Hrm....

Saw this in deadboydex's journal... Thought it was mildly thought-provoking...

He apparently got it from another list he's on....
--
From: "Chris Tremlett"
Subject: The View From Here
Date: Wed, 12 Sep 2001 22:01:58 +0400

(I'm mailing this to anyone and everyone I have contact with. Feel free to pass it on if you think someone needs to read it, so long as you keep my name with it)

The View From Here
5:00 pm, Wednesday, September 12th, 2001.

I walked into my classroom this morning, and found a room full of
scared, worried young women. Classes have only barely started for
this semester, so my students didn't know me that well yet. As soon
as I came in, they asked, "Are you from America?" When I said yes,
they asked if I had friends or family in Washington or New York. I
told them I had friends in Washington, but they were alright. I said I'd been awake until three am, to make sure everyone was safe.

And then we just sat and talked. Forget the lesson plans, and
getting into the meat of the semester. Today wasn't a day for
teaching. The quiz, the editing and the research guidelines just
didn't matter today.

Being a teacher, part of my job is to help my students make sense of the world. Since my students are University age, at that stage where one minute they are mature young adults and the next minute children, I'm here to help guide them as they sort out their worlds for themselves - along with teaching the subject matter in my class description, of course.

How can I help them make sense of this when I can't make sense of it myself? I'm in just as much shock as they are. I want someone to
say it's alright, just like they do. Nothing in this is
straightforward. All the emotions are complex. Relief that my own
family and friends are safe combined with worry for those whose
aren't, or remain unknown.

The most striking emotional cocktail of this for me is the
reassurance and heartbreak at how desperately my students want this
not to have been done by Arabs.

You see, I teach in the Middle East. All those young women who are
my students are Arabs. Muslims. I've seen and heard of people in
the US saying "Damn Arabs" or "Damn Muslims" or "Damn Middle
Easterners". That, and worse.

To some of you, Arabs may be nameless and faceless, counted as
suspicious or dangerous. Easy to blame. To me, Arabs are my
students and their families. Arabs are as diverse a group as any
other. Hating them all would be like hating all Europeans for the
atrocities in Kosovo or Serbia. Let me make them less faceless for
you.

My students are young women. Like University students anywhere,
they're worried about grades and exams, about course requirements and majors, and, of course, about juggling their classwork with their social lives. They have dreams and plans, about their careers, about marriage and family, about places they'd like to travel to. They may dress differently than a group of women the same age in the US, but underneath the shayla and abaya, they're not very different at all.

Today, they're in shock. They're worried about war. They're
concerned about their relatives who are in the States. They remember the Gulf War, and they're afraid this will be so much worse. Our University is near an airport. Normally, they just ignore the planes as they take off and land. Either they pause until the sound has died down, or try to talk over it. Today, they flinched. I've never seen the planes make them nervous before.

They're horrified by the attacks on the United States. While they
are angry that the US appears to support Israel, they cannot accept
what has happened. My students do not celebrate this, nor do they
take it lightly. They say it is harram - forbidden by religion. The
deaths of so many innocents can never be acceptable. Not for any
reason.

My students are still learning English. They had to struggle,
sometimes, to express themselves. They know how to talk about
classes and majors. They know the vocabulary for the lives of
University students. They don't have the words for the deaths of
innocents. I find it tragic that they had to learn the word
"innocent" under such appalling circumstances.

I can no more make sense of this for you, or for myself, than I could for my students. All I can do is pray for the victims, and pray for Peace.

Chris Tremlett
English Language Center
College of Arts and Sciences
Zayed University
Dubai, UAE

Thoughts are swirling....

All through my head, I feel overloaded, in a way.

I guess I'll try itemising. Or day by day. Or...

When I got to school yesterday morning, I was five minutes late for my first class. I decided to cut it. Instead of listening to my prof talk about templates and flowcharts, I sat in the car and read the new Barbara Metzger book I'd picked up from the new Borders by Clayton.

Hopped out to head to the second class--plus I needed some Fritos and Coke, since I hadn't had breakfast yet.

Got the munchies and perched on the comfy chair down the hall from my classroom. Inside the room, some guy I didn't know was watching the CNN feed, but I wasn't paying much attention. The people in the offices across the hall from me were, too, but I still didn't pay much attention--read more of the book.

Three classmates showed up, and spotted a sign on our door I'd missed. The class was cancelled. I felt rather silly for having missed it, but resigned to having wasted the morning when I could've been sleeping.

But I needed to see if my zip disk was in the newsroom, plus make a monthly appearance and say hi to Trudy.

Walked in, "Have you heard?"

Me, "What?"

Trudy, "The World Trade Center is gone."

Keep in mind, this was about 11:15am, CST.

Me, "....Windows on the World is gone."

My first thought. Aren't I trivial? But I couldn't take it all in. Not really. I'd BEEN in that building. I'd stood on an upper floor and gazed out the windows at Manhatten! We'd been overcharged for somewhat crappy food...

Hell, I've even set a fic in there, iirc.

And it's all gone.

Trudy told me about it all. Anetra was there. Both accounts were slightly garbled, and I was trying NOT to hit Anetra. She was sitting at the computer with mIRC on it. I NEEDED to get on it. I needed to know if anyone I'd known was gone or hurt. If they'd had people lost.

I needed to know.

The bitch left fairly soon after that, and I glomped that computer. Was online in 30 seconds--coins was full.

I don't remember much--I mean, I look at the log I sent Kielle, and... I don't know how much of that I remember and how much I just feel surprise at.

We banded together.

A shocker, really. Because, even now, I can't put aside some of those petty jealousies and hatreds. Those little irritations...

I had to go to work, sadly, so I did.

I avoided the 45 channels all showing the same thing over and over, and tried to watch the 3 that were showing something that wasn't the Attack on America.

I did so because I knew I wouldn't be able to handle it if I did.

I was right, too. I got home, hit the computer... and lost it.

But you noticed that last night, I'm sure.

So. Today. Didn't go to the newspaper meeting--big shocker.

On my way to work, decided I finally needed a new CD player. Mine's been broken for something like 2 years. Yay! No more borrowing my sisters'!

I was stuck between the purple one and the grey one, but my nipcheese spendthrift heart won out. I have the grey one, and it's smaller, but cute.

Took it to work, since I couldn't go home. Luckily, I'd crammed cds in for Tuesday in the newsroom (which I never got to listen to, incidently). So, listened to music with the tv OFF all night at work.

Danced for about the entire Supreme Beings of Leisure cd... Way cool stuff.

Was stiff later, though... More stretching, I think. And more dancing.

Played cards, read... Couldn't write anything.. danced. Full evening of boredom at work.

At least five people asked me about the newest news. "I haven't been watching." "Oh *look that says I must be crazy* Well, thanks anyway." "*in my head* You're not fucking welcome."

Am now home.

And just realised something. I'm getting a car for my birthday. It's a used car. But. I'm getting a car for my birthday

For the last three weeks, I've know. But it hasn't sunk in. I think I'm in shock, now. The numbness has gone byebye.

Chee. I'm getting a car of my very own!!

And on that note... I should go read email and stuff.

OH!!! And I'm going to Chicago this weekend. I'm going. Because I said I am. Not sure which mode of transport yet, though. More later. :)

Hubris, thy name is Lyssie

*chuckle* At school. I'm such a scamp.

Can't get on MY computer, so no mIRC. sigh.

The title up there is because, in my first class, I was feeling all smug. I'd done the problem on the board, it was perfect. *I* was perfect...

And I suddenly realised it wasn't perfect.

Pride goeth before a fall...

Yesterday, the River's Vic Porcelli (sp?) read an editorial from a Canadian (Toronto, iirc) newspaper. It was... Not bad. I'd had the wild thought it might've been Dex's...

But it wasn't. It was some dude named Gordon I think.

Anyway, in it, the editorial mentioned the San Francisco earthquake. When Vic finished the reading, he remarked--in a puzzled tone--that the editorial was written in 78, which was before the SF earthquake.

...

OK. My memory isn't THAT strong on dates... But wasn't there an earthquake in SF, in 1908?

And people wonder why Americans are considered stupid. *mutter*

Want to go to Chicago. DreaCon. Must get away from St. Louis... Must call mom tonight from work and beg.

I don't want to ride the bus up. I will, if I have to. But I LOATHE the idea.

I can do it, normally, but...

I'm making a carrot cake. Partially in honour of Indigo's birthday, and partially because I thought I should.

There is no way to take that in a BUS. Not for 7 hours.

Ick.