The End of Innocence

Somewhere back there in the dust, that same small town in each of us. I need to remember this. So, baby give me just one kiss. And let me take a long last look, before we say goodbye. Just lay your head back on the ground. And let your hair fall all around me. Offer up your best defense. This is end of the innocence. ~ Don Henley and Bruce Hornsby "The End of Innocence


September 11, 2001 began as a beautiful day. The sun was shining. The leaves on our large Maple tree were just beginning to turn. We could see the brilliant yellows and reds outside our kitchen window. I was still homeschooling my children, who were 9 and not quite 7 years old respectively. We were curled up on the couch in our family room, reading "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe". Josh and Caroline begged me to postpone their math lessons to just allow for one more chapter. "Aslan is on the move, Mom! We can't stop now!", they said. I realize that those two sets of beautiful brown eyes were both serious in their earnest request for more reading. I also knew it was partly a ploy to postpone multiplication tables. I was okay with that.




The phone rang just after 9:00 am. It was my friend, and fellow homeschool mother, Jennifer asking if I had the television on. Jen wasn't any more likely to be watching TV on a school day than I was. We took our jobs as homeschool teachers seriously. But, I heard the tone in her voice, and still couldn't comprehend what she was telling me. How in the world could a plane have crashed into one of the Twin Towers? It was with horror that the children and I watched the events unfold. What we thought must surely have been a terrible accident initially, clearly took on much larger meaning for the entire world.


It was the end of innocence for our nation, I've heard it said. No longer were terrorist attacks limited to unfathomable bombs going off in Israel or India. Our oceans to the west and east couldn't protect us with their natural barrier. We were no longer the citizens of a country who had to travel to foreign lands to protect ourselves. We needed protection here at home. Europe bears the scars of war from within the last 60 years. So does most of Asia. We had now joined the unwanted society of countries at war.


Because I'm not a politician, or journalist, or in the military, I can't speak for a world perspective. I didn't see the carnage first hand. I didn't lose a loved one or a colleague on September 11th. But, as a mother, I know what our family lost: its innocence. Until that time, my family flew several times a year with ease. My biggest concern was having enough items in my carry on bag to entertain Josh and Caroline for our trips. My only fear was that we'd run out of things to do and someone would melt down in public. After September 11th, our trips changed in tone. My children saw me pulled out of line and searched almost every time we flew. I explained that it was for all of our safety that folks were searched randomly. "Is it so that we don't hit a big building, too?", my daughter asked the first time this happened, "Don't they know you're a Mommy?". I tried to think about how to illustrate the concepts of fairness, equity and impartiality. It was hard to do when my children just wanted to go visit their Nana, and were afraid to fly.


As it turns out September 11, 2001 was an end of innocence for our family in other ways...in aspects that had nothing to do with the terrible events of that day. This was, ultimately, the last year I would homeschool the children. They both went on to doing extremely well in school. They loved their peers and were successful in their classes. They gained independence by leaps and bounds every year. I am exceptionally proud of both of them for their diligence and leadership, both in the classroom and outside of it. But, I still missed the sweet quality our days together had once had. It was the last year before I was diagnosed with cancer the first time. My life was never the same after my first cancer digagnosis. I would find myself revisiting this chapter time and again. I would come to the understanding that no matter how well I take of my body, it can betray me with illness. My husband was working in a job he loved, with people he admired, during this time. Although his career would take another decade to end, I look back on 2001 as the time in which my husband was working in a capacity he most enjoyed. 


Obviously, things haven't been all bad since that September 11th. We've continued to travel, to grow, to learn, to laugh, to cry and to explore. We have had outstanding years and utterly dreadful ones. We have known profound joy. We have experienced deep sorrow. Ten years is a long time, but it's also the blink of an eye. I am thankful for every day I've had since the terrible tragedy occurred. If nothing else, the terrorist attacks taught me to appreciate life all the more, to hold my children a little closer, to hug my husband every day before he leaves for work, to call my mom and tell her how much I love her.


Back on the homeschool couch, on September 11th, I used the remote to turn the TV off. I pulled a blanket over Josh, Caroline and me, and we read another chapter from the Chronicles of Narnia. Then, we read the chapter after that. And on, and on, until we finished the book. We may have skipped math that day, but I believe that time spent reading was vital. After all, Aslan was on the move.

New Beginnings

You can teach a student a lesson for a day; but if you can teach him to learn by creating curiosity, he will continue the learning process as long as he lives. ~Clay P. Bedford


There is something about the first day of school that feels like a holiday! The new backpacks, new lunchboxes, new notebooks, new back to school outfit, and new teachers in a new grade are all cause for anticipation and celebration. The excitement of being a year older, a year wiser and a year more prepared, mix in with the feelings of the sense of freshness to the school year ahead. There is an essence of anything being possible, when you start a new school year. I remember coming back to school, after summers away, and seeing how my classmates had reinvented their styles over the summer, or had grown a foot in height or had become far more (or less) serious about their schoolwork. I also recall being the new kid at school, far too many times, and having butterlies in my stomach the size of pterodactyls, wondering if I'd be accepted by the 'ruling establishment'. With that sense of excited expectation also comes that sense of dreaded horrors that just might lie in wait; a bitter teacher, a vicious clique or a principal hell bent on 'sending a message'. There is the wonder of a new school year, but there is also the fear of the unknown dangers, both academic and social, that lie ahead.


I have been both fortunate, and deeply unfortunate, in my teachers over the years. I have had those teachers who inspired me to be the woman I was destined to become. These men and women encouraged me in my strengths, and helped me to shore up my weaknesses. Unfortunately, I also had those who ruled their classrooms like Himler ruled the SS. These teachers accused students of being unprepared, insisted on catching us off guard and wanted to entrap us with adding material on tests not included in class or regular readings. They did, however, inform their "favorite" students of these surprise elements. These teachers inspired a lack of trust amongst the children in the classroom, as well as damaging a great deal of my self-esteem that took years to overcome. The fascinating point to me, now, is how dramatically the despicable teachers affected me, and seemed to have longer lasting effects than the good teachers did. Even during my yoga teacher training, I had a bizarre mixture of beautifully giving, methodical, intentional instructors and nasty, self-absorbed ones. It amazed me that anyone teaching yoga would be not only hurtfully critical, but downright mean. Why is that? Why do we still bear the scars of poor teaching more than we appreciate the inspiration of good teaching?



Having been on both sides of this issue, as a classroom teacher, a Director of Education, and now a yoga instructor, I can fully understand the demands placed on teachers, as well as the uncertainties faced by students. One of the wonderful aspects to working in yoga is the concept of being a lifelong learner. The classes I teach each week are not my only classes. I also take class, as a student, at least once a week, from a master teacher. I see my job as a teacher as that of individual facilitator. I do have lessons to teach that I have prepared for the entire class. But, I also see that I need to learn from my students; I need to learn what their needs are, how I can best assist them and how I can become a better teacher for their understanding. As a student myself, I appreciate that I do not "know it all". No matter how long I have been studying, there are always new ideas, new steps, and even new beginnings. My job, as a student, is to listen, to ask questions, to try and to keep coming back for more instruction. Teaching and learning are not as different as many people believe. The best teachers are those who continue to strive for inspiration in their own lives, and that the best students are those who are willing to ask questions to help their own learning process.

As my own children begin their senior and sophomore years in high school, it's my goal to be their advocate in the learning process. They are now old enough to be empowered in their educational experience, and yet, there are times they may both need a cheerleader, an interceder or an impartial view on a subject. I hope to instill in them a desire to learn...and a method of achieving that, even from teachers with whom they may not connect. I want to teach them the balance between school work and real life educations. I also want to show them that, even at my vast age, I never stop engaging in the learning process. The first day of school can be a tremendous boost to overcoming bad habits or to help begin positive traits. As for our family, it's my hope that each one of us can keep that first day excitement alive until June.

I just wish they would let me dress them in matching outfits to take their picture. Some life experiences are just outgrown.