Carol Peterson Petersen is a special assistant
in academic development. Â
On Sept. 11, I was teaching in the Transfer Summer Program. My
students came to class that morning, and we focused on their
research projects ““ after 45 minutes’ sober discussion
of what was happening in New York and Washington.` Even in those
early hours of chaos and shock, students in that class saw
connections between the morning’s events and the political,
economic and social forces they were studying in their adjunct
class, Latino Immigration and Identity, and the research they were
doing to understand the patterns and significant details in their
own families’ immigration histories. “Again, it’s
about the haves and the have nots,” I remember John Dobard
saying early in our discussion. Telling new details had just been
added to this country’s history and to our own experience of
it. Some nine months later, with students graduating and summer
opening before us, this seems a time to reflect on those shared
historical events and their impact on us. We’re each involved
in making meaning of what happened, just as we’re engaged in
making meaning of our lives. To encourage that reflection,
I’d like to share some observations made by students taking
my Honors Collegium seminar–Silence, Slogans, and Flags–during
fall and winter. The seminar focused on the limits and uses of
words, images, symbols, and symbolic acts as means of dealing with
Sept. 11. It was part of a series, Perspectives on Sept. 11,
developed by the university to encourage academic dialogue on these
critical events. Daniel Chang described the experience as a
nightmare, a shared one: “It seemed as if the entire nation
was just waking up: waking up to the same nightmare that embraced
me.” How to endure the nightmare or begin making sense of it?
Tyson Evans wrote that “within seconds of hearing the news it
was clear everyone had different views.” In his workplace, he
said, “Some spoke up, some stayed quiet. Some hoped
we’d nuke someone, anyone, that moment; some just
stared.” Daniel Chang spoke in class about the meaning the
flag has for him as the son of Taiwanese immigrants, and he wrote,
“We chant USA because it keeps our hopes alive: the hope that
there might still be people alive under the rubble of the Twin
Towers.” He also wrote as follows: “People criticize
the excessive use of the American flag … But for me, the only
thing I feel is pride … We will not bow down to terrorism, but
stay united and calm as justice unfolds itself.” Eric Lopez,
on the other hand, wrote, “I pray for the victims of Sept.
11, but I refuse to associate them with the American flag ““
for one of the reasons that many people died on Sept. 11 … was
because of U.S. foreign policy.” Genevieve Espinosa,
articulating yet another view, asked, “Since when did I have
to think about how a small object such as the American flag would
affect me?” “Sometimes it is easy to think that if
something is not happening to you it is not real,” wrote
Sarah Zannella. “This event opened my eyes especially in
making known the terrorism that has already existed in our country
and that it is not really anything new. The magnitude of the event
may be different but the idea and the concept remain the
same,” she continued. Kristin Wehner offered these
reflections: “If there is one thing the events of Sept. 11
have challenged me to examine more than anything else, it is
perspective. I, like many other Americans, am often subconsciously
rooted in egocentrism; I define the world solely in terms of my own
experiences. … It’s what I know, but it’s
limiting.” “Up until last month I considered myself to
be part of a generation of happy-go-lucky, fearless American
youths,” Shana Valla observed. “My mother, a Berkeley
alum of ’73, always said that my generation has nothing for
which to fight. Now we do. The most critical change facing
Generation Y is the decision to get involved and fight for our
beliefs.” “Now the wild and bewildered emotions have
taken shape and form,” Elizabeth Morgan wrote during winter
quarter. “The most dramatic realization that I reached is
that our nation is more fragile than we had previously believed …
In one sense, the event was a wake up call, alerting the nation of
dangers, acts of terrorism, and catastrophes that are hardly
conceivable, but fully possible.” Tyson Evans wrote that
historical distance could help us read the words and images flying
by, then questioned even this certainty: “Earlier I said
historical distance would add significance. I hope that’s
true. I’m also deadly afraid that it won’t, just like
the special effects from last year’s blockbuster aren’t
as impressive this year. I don’t want that to happen.”
Daniel Chang reflected on our work during fall term: “I
walked into this class not knowing what to expect. I didn’t
even know how to describe my own reactions, let alone attempt to
analyze someone else’s … When I spoke, everyone listened.
And when others spoke, I listened as well. Now as I leave this
classroom, everywhere I look, building(s) are being restored …
lives are honored and cherished … and tears are remembered as we
move on with our lives.” As the days and months after Sept.
11 become years, our students ““ this generation of college
and university students ““ will carry memories of that date
and will help determine its meaning. I encourage them to continue
engaging in dialogue and study like that initiated here this year
and to continue addressing the issues of international relations
and personal responsibilities set out so forcefully on Sept. 11.
Their discoveries, their insights, their actions will help to shape
the global community in which we will all be living.