We Said “Never Forget.” Have We?

September 11, 2001, began like just any other day. I was an assistant principal at Sunrise Middle School in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida. My coworkers and I arrived on campus at around 7:30 AM, supervised the student arrival process, and ushered the children into classes for an 8:30 AM start.

As I entered the main office of the school, just after 9:00 AM, I was greeted by my colleague, Suzy, who said, “Desmond, a plane just hit one of the twin towers in New York.” I remember a crushing feeling of disbelief. As I turned my attention to the news coverage on television, I saw the unfathomable: another plane crashed into the second tower. Over the next two hours, we would learn of a third plane hitting the Pentagon, a fourth plane crashing into a field in Pennsylvania, and the total collapse of both towers. Thousands of innocent people were killed.

Our country was under attack in ways many of us had only read about in the history books. All of us, staff and students alike, were shaken to our core. Agonizing parents frantically rushed to the school to take their children home. A day that started out as routine ended in a hellacious manner, to say the least. At the end of what became an extremely long day, I finally headed home. While driving home, a typically uneventful 20-minute commute would become more than 60 minutes of hysteria-filled congestion.

Shortly into my drive, as I listened to the reports on the radio, I interacted with a fellow driver in a way that I have never forgotten. As I approached a red light, an elderly Caucasian woman in a car with a Star of David emblem, representing the Jewish faith, slowed to a stop in the lane next to me. She glanced at me, a 27-year-old Black guy wearing a crucifix around my neck, representing my Christian values, and I looked back at her. We focused solely on each other. There were no words. She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head in dismay; I did the same. Still facing me, she then clasped her hands together in a prayerful motion towards me; I responded likewise. Right there, two very different people – total strangers – bonded. We were united in both our fear and our reliance on faith. While no words were exchanged, we communicated our bond with one another as Americans.

That small gesture between us symbolized the prevailing feeling I would have over the coming days, months, and years. I remember feeling a deep sense of unity. In the wake of tragedy, the people of this nation united in support of those who lost loved ones or were otherwise impacted by the attacks. Our common humanity took precedence over dissonance. We were all simply Americans – extremely frightened, confused, and eager to see the perpetrators of the atrocity meet with justice. The popular slogan that many of us adopted was, “Never Forget.”

Our unity as a nation during one of our most harrowing moments was a silver lining. Unfortunately, the unity that I remember is not reflected in so much of what we hear about today. Media headlines are rife with stories of polarization in our communities. We said we would “Never Forget,” but I’m afraid we have done just that.?

Being that I have proudly served in positions as a classroom teacher, school principal, and superintendent, I have intimate knowledge of how hard it is to teach a child coming of age amidst societal turmoil. I empathize deeply with educators whose job it is to help our nation’s young people make sense of tough histories and present-day crises.?

Today, as we remember the horrible acts of terrorism that took place more than two decades ago, I encourage educators to take advantage of the resources we’ve curated at Facing History to help students make sense of the legacy of this painful anniversary, and I challenge all of us to approach every one of our interactions – whether they be with family, friends, colleagues, or strangers – with empathy and kindness so that we “never forget” our common humanity.

About the Author. Desmond K. Blackburn, Ph.D, is President & Chief Executive Officer at Facing History and Ourselves (FHAO), a national non-profit organization that works with school systems to use lessons of history to challenge teachers and their students to stand up to bigotry and hate. He has spent nearly thirty years as a career educator (teacher, principal, superintendent, adjunct professor, author). To find out how Dr. Blackburn and the FHAO team can support you, contact him at [email protected] .