In commemoration of all the lives lost on 9/11/01
The Feelings Flag by Linda O'Connell
published in Chicken Soup for the Soul The Spirit of
America, 2016
I stood in my living room and cringed at the sight of
the first plane hitting the first of the Twin Towers. I thought, what an
horrific accident. I felt terrible for the people on that plane, and for those in
the World Trade Center building. I did not realize that the horror had only
just begun.
I turned on my car radio on my way to work and
listened intently to the reports. Then, I heard that another plane had made
impact.
I arrived at school a few minutes later. No one was
quite sure what was going on. Teachers were asking one another, "Did you
hear about the plane crashes in NY?"
The gravity of the situation -America was under attack-
was like a punch in the gut. We all felt winded, worried, and wounded.
My preschool classroom
was in the lower level of an inner city middle school. What I remember most is
the panicked young man in the hall who shouted at me, "America is at
war!"
"Calm down," I said. "Don't jump to
conclusions. Nobody knows for sure what's going on. This does not mean
WAR."
They insisted they saw it on TV and that military jets
were intercepting other planes.
I walked into my classroom, and watched as my students
went about their school day, unaware of the attacks, I knew they were okay. My
aide was capable, so I left her in charge.
I felt compelled to do something patriotic to relieve
the mounting tension and confusion the middle school students were feeling,
although I was not in charge of any of them. I cut
twelve- inch by two-inch strips of red, white and blue construction paper into
strips, the kinds kids use to create
paper chains. I did not consult the principal or counselor. I acted on impulse.
I visited each classroom and intruded on each classroom teacher. I asked each
if might have a moment, then I said, "Nobody knows exactly what is going
on. We've all heard rumors and news reports. It's a frightening time for all of
us."
I passed out
strips of paper to the students and asked them to write what they were feeling at
the moment. Any fears, any words— anything would be acceptable. Some asked about
spelling, and some asked if they should sign it.
"If you want to," I said.
I collected more than 200 strips and rolled them
into loops, then I stapled them to the
bulletin board in the cafeteria. I read an outpouring of emotional comments.
"I am afraid." "I want to kick their behinds." "Bomb
them." "Why did this happen?" "What now?" "I want
to go home."
I posted one after another, row after row, until an
American flag took shape. Some of the comments were laced with misspelled words
and profanity; some were smeared with tears. I did not censor. I stapled every
single one. I stood back and admired that "feelings flag".
At lunch I stood against the wall and observed teens
and preteens, who were usually destructive with bulletin board displays, as
they searched for their piece of that flag. I listened to them read their words
aloud, owning their emotions, giving voice to their fears and frustrations,
initiating conversations.
On that horrible day, when America came under attack,
I didn't know if my actions would do any good. It just felt good to do
something. My friend Tammy said,
'With that spontaneous action, you gave children a
voice when no one knew what to say."
The bulletin board flag stayed up for more than a week. Then the strips began disappearing as
individuals claimed their sections... and their feelings.
