The Stories of 11 September 2001

In the posts below I, really we, suggest ways in which you can get your students thinking and writing about September 11th, and history, in ways which help them understand how their world is constructed.

History Remembered, History Forgotten     Knowing History    Iconic Absence   
Teaching 9/11: Why? How?

9/11 in photographs, a Guardian multimedia piece

There are so many stories, and so many sources. Two newspapers stand out in collections your students can use. The Guardian's 9/11 Decade Archive is remarkable in its global and emotional breadth. The New York Times Learning Network has assembled many fabulous resources and ideas. Of particular interest for older students is the Guardian's short fiction project.

The Man Who Walked Between The Towers

I believe in storytelling. I believe in helping students to become storytellers and story hearers. I believe in helping students understand why people tell stories, and how people tell stories. Because I believe that there are two things which truly make us human, our use of tools, and our ability to tell, understand, and appreciate stories.

So, with that in mind, here are links to the stories I have written about 9/11 and the World Trade Center. They are stories which struggle to say what I want say - and that struggle to find your words through multiple attempts is something I would hope you will let your students experience with their writing, their storytelling.

Morning Arrivals (a World Trade Center very new and still quite empty, with artists lofts filling some of the space)
The Beach (in adolescence we experience spaces differently, and that is a good thing)
A River Runs Through It (trying to map lost places)
March Seventeenth (terrorism comes to New York, but life is a personal thing)
September 11, 2001: In Moments (trying to capture chaos in words)
Finding Ends (11/19/2001) (what is left after everything has happened)

But there is one more story. I had a friend. When we met I was a New York City cop and he was a busboy at Windows on the World on the 107th floor of One World Trade Center. He was a quiet guy who loved New York in every way. We were just about the same age, and yet, our histories were so incredibly different. And sometimes, late, late at night, we'd climb the stairs from that restaurant's kitchen up to the roof. Two World Trade Center had the observation deck, but this was just a roof anchoring a massive broadcast antenna which still made this the World's Tallest Building. And we'd lie there on the roof, suspended between the city and the stars, and we'd tell stories.

Later, I moved away but he stayed. Became a waiter. And was at work that morning.

- Ira Socol

Fictional Interlude: Who sat next to me in eighth grade

my rarely updatedfiction blog is here...

 

Stevie Sodoni in homeroom, adjoining names, assigned seats. Fell asleep within two minutes every morning and drooled on the desk. I'd say "here" for me and him and then try to get thrown out before the class could go any further. 

Robert diNodo probably went through the whole year with a black and blue right arm. We shared this black-topped lab table in Science and Robert was an A student and all the tests were multiple choice which meant all I had to do was copy his answers but he was one of those kids who hunched over the page and wrapped his arms around it so you couldn't see so I would just punch him in the shoulder until he'd give up and move his arm and by that time I'd only have time to copy about half but still, it was one of my best classes. 

In dumb English usually Danny Nally who laughed at everything, all the time, and who was always throwing things at me, especially books and I'd take it for awhile then, inevitably, retaliate, then I'd get in trouble but trouble was just getting sent to the Resource Room most of the time which was better than sitting in English. 

Nobody in the Resource Room. There was this wide windowsill and I'd sit at the far end and just stare out the window and everybody would leave me alone because I had a reputation for hitting, and I really liked it there if it was raining. 

Nobody in Gym or shop either. In shop they let me weld but they wouldn't let me have a torch I could walk around with: that would have been crazy. So they let me arc weld instead which made me feel like the god of hell fire and let them be sure I was tethered to the electrical apparatus. 

At lunch me and Bill and Anthony and Jason were the first guys to cross from the boys side of the cafeteria to the girls side. The boys had benches at long tables and the girls had round tables and chairs and we started going over and sitting with Kelly and Jane and Mary Margaret and Wendy and they tried to stop us for a few weeks and other guys made fun of us but then they gave up and the other guys were just jealous. 

Bobby Castore and I sat in the back of Mr. Hudson's Social Studies class by the window. Me, right by the window which was an issue but I held the seat the whole year. I skated by listening for almost five minutes every day, giving one answer, and seeming like I was trying. Bobby got by cause he somehow passed the quizzes. If it got boring we'd get thrown out together, skip out of the building if the weather was ok, and go drink beers we had stashed in the morning up on the hill behind the tennis courts. From the right spot we could see the water. 

I only went to math once a week or so. If I was drunk from the last period I'd stay outside. If I wasn't I usually just went to the Resource Room, which was expected. If I went to class there was a desk way in the back corner where I sat by myself and drew pictures of stories I didn't know how to write down. 

Eventually the bell would ring and I'd go to a team practice, or just down to where the tidal pools let me watch life on earth be renewed. That was better.

© Ira David Socol 2006-2011