9/11/2001: A Teachable Moment
By: Victor Dorff
Tags: Teaching, Career Change, Teaching And Learning, Journalism, 9 11 01

Every generation seems to have a day like today — one on which those of a certain age remember exactly where they were and what they were doing when, for the first time in their lives, everything changed. For my father, it was Pearl Harbor. Some twenty years later, my generation experienced the assassinations of JFK, MLK, and RFK. A generation later, the Challenger disaster marked “that day.” And now, we are remembering the day, twenty years ago, when the World Trade Towers collapsed, along with the sense of security our nation had enjoyed.

One Image; Many Stories

My story on that day is similar to many, in that I was shocked, heartbroken, frightened for loved ones who worked at Ground Zero and for my parents who lived not far from there. That morning, I also had to make a decision that set the direction of my life for the next two decades… all in the moment it took for a traffic light to change from red to green.

I had recently moved to California with my wife to be closer to her family. In New York, I was a television news producer with ABC News. Jobs like the one I had at ABC existed only in New York, Washington, and Atlanta. I had been freelancing in local newsrooms in Los Angeles, but it wasn’t the same.

In June 2001, I decided I would become a high school math teacher. There was a shortage, and I had an undergraduate degree in the subject, as well as a sense that I would be introducing teenagers to critical thinking. It seemed like a good fit.

By the end of August, I had an emergency teaching credential (reflecting the dearth of qualified math teachers in California); I had enrolled in a two-year program at Cal State Northridge to get a full credential; and I was standing in front of a roomful of seniors who were sizing me up as the “fresh meat” who was going to try to teach them how to deal with fractions… again. Terrifying? Yes, but also exhilarating.

September 11, 2001 was during my second week as a teacher. I was still moonlighting at the all-news radio station, KFWB, on the weekends. So it was, with one foot in the world of secondary education and the other in journalism, that I got in the car that morning to hear a familiar anchor’s voice, more agitated than usual, announce that the second tower was gone. “It’s just not there.”

I told my wife, “We’re under attack. Go inside and turn on the TV.” Then, I hit the road.

For the first ten minutes of my drive, I heard a recap of the horrors of that morning: One plane, then another, followed by two separate collapses and the pulverization of thousands of people.

By then, I had arrived at a red light, the freeway, and a decision to make.

Turn right, and I could be at the radio station in thirty minutes, where I could begin doing what I had been trained to do — communicate to an audience what was known about an utterly incomprehensible situation. I also knew that, within four days (tops), I could be in New York among former colleagues who would welcome me back to share the task of telling the story on a global platform.

Turn left, and I would be among a few dozen very frightened teenagers who would be facing their first horrific moment. They would need someone to explain what was known, to deflect fears of the unknown, and to do what was possible to create a sense of calm and reason in an unreasonable world. For the first time, I felt as if those kids needed me, and I was going to be there for them.

I turned left and, within minutes, found myself with a group of kids who were convinced that the terrorists’ list of targets was (1) The World Trade Center; (2) The Pentagon; and (3) Newbury Park High School. Several teachers had already collapsed in tears, while many more were trying to keep a brave face on a very scary day.

In my room, we watched television all morning. On the screen were all my former colleagues, doing what they knew best how to do. Meanwhile, I was explaining to “my students” how to listen critically. “Notice that everyone is already spinning today’s tragedy to explain why they have been right all along — about national defense, about immigration… about anything at all.”

By the afternoon, the story on cable news had become repetitive, changing only incrementally every hour, so I said it was time to turn off the television and go back to work. It was my best lesson of the day.

Last spring, I retired from teaching secondary mathematics. Today’s anniversary is, for me, about remembering the events of that horrible day, remembering what I consider to be the first real day of twenty years’ of teaching — which turned out to be a fulfilling chapter of my professional life — and remembering that life goes on for those of us who survive to see another day.