The Weightlessness of History

We Americans are extraordinarily gifted at throwing off the weight of history. If it didn't happen to us, it didn't happen. As we move through the years, events start to shift and fade from our collective memory.

Sometimes its surprises, even alarms us, as we watch the major events of our own lives circle the memory hole for the generations that follow us.

I think about this phenomenon every September 11 as teachers across the country try to somehow convey to students the importance and impact of that day. In 2022, almost 25% of the population was under the age of 20, meaning 9/11 is some distant noise, a thing that adults like to talk about and it seems to bother them, but it's about as real as D-Day and the Tet Offensive. Yet somehow teachers are supposed to get it all across to students, even as today's media landscape is occupied mostly by the Presidential debate and Taylor Swift's political endorsement (make your bets now on which will have a greater effect on the election). 

What are teachers supposed to convey? What are the lessons of 9/11? Why do we want young people to remember it?

I think some of it is really basic-- this happened and it was awful and we want to make sure that everybody gets it. There is something in trauma that seeks confirmation, an acknowledgement that the awful thing really did happen.

In fact, I think part of the appeal of 9/11--well, I hesitate to call it nostalgia, but there are always a few people who express that they miss the moment when Americans all came together. Often that's expressed as a moment of patriotism, and that was certainly part of it, but I think the root of that moment was that, for just a day or two, we shared an actual consensus reality. We all agreed on what had happened and how we felt about it. 

Now, what we wanted to do about it was another matter. Everyone bought an American flag and stopped badmouthing the President. But also, right up the road from me, a man waited in a high school parking lot to accost a student after school because she was vaguely Arab-looking. 

And very shortly, the consensus reality broke down, and we've felt a little sad about that ever since.

9/11 anniversaries are a reminder that one of the rarely discussed functions of schools is to build that consensus reality, to give a generation common narratives. It's a task that is increasingly challenging. We've got politicians now who don't just promote a spin on events, but insist on narratives that aren't even based in reality. We've got a whole movement promoting the idea that we should let folks send their children to schools differentiated by the different narratives that they teach and promote, consensus reality be damned.

It's not a simple balance to strike. Some of the consensus reality if 9/11 was not true, and insisting that everyone agree to one unchallenged, unexamined consensus version of reality is central to authoritarianism. 

It's our challenge as humans. We are limited, limited in time and space and experience and perception, and feeling the reality of events outside our direct experience is hard. Sometimes, the result is trivial (if you weren't in a theater seeing Star Wars for the first time in the summer of 1977, you don't really get it). Sometimes it's larger (if you haven't been through divorce, you don't really get it). And sometimes it is fundamental to our identity and understanding of the past (what is the story of our nation's founding, really). 

It's part of our fundamental struggle as humans-- how do we bridge the gap between what we feel and know in our own bones with the feelings and knowledge of other humans. How do we convey the narratives of the past in any meaningful way? Can we give the world and its history some real weight, enough to tether ourselves to it? Can we do it before that past becomes so weightless that it simply floats away, lost to generations yet to come?

Language is our tool. That's why we make young humans learn it--because it is the main tool to bridge the gap between themselves and everything and everyone else (not because it helps get high scores on a Big Standardized Test). It is how they grapple with the question of how to be their best selves, to become fully human in the world. That's education. Some of us may feel all of that a bit more sharply today, but it's the mission every day.