Disoriented
Sally Wolf, MBA1
Issue date: 10/1/01 Section: Perspectives
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On September 10th, tomorrow seemed like just another day in the life of a first year GSB student. My biggest concerns about that Tuesday were standard orientation fare: Will I have a good hair day for that dreaded facebook picture? Who's going to help me configure my computer to the Schwab network? How on earth am I going to wake up for the way-too-early Excel review without an alarm clock?
The last fear proved unwarranted, for at 6:30am the following morning I received a wake-up call that I will never forget. "Sal," I heard my sister say, as I still lay half asleep. "There was a tragedy in New York this morning. A plane hit the World Trade Center." I imagined she meant a small plane. A Cessna or something. Must've had an accident. Maybe the pilot lost control, or the engine failed. Drawing on the security and safety I have known my entire life, I could not imagine anything worse in my own backyard.
Having grown up with a television and radio in almost every room of my house, I was amazed to find myself without either in my barely unpacked room. So I went online. Or tried to, at least. I must've tried to enter CNN, MSNBC, and other news sites more than a dozen times, but it was of no use. They were already jammed. The phone lines weren't much better. So I turned to Instant Messenger and began a string of heart wrenching IMs that would be my most reliable lifeline to NY for the next few days.
Those were undoubtedly the longest days I have ever known. Here I was, at the school I thought would best foster personal growth because it would take me away from the east coast for the first time. But that was how I rationally thought about school when the world was an orderly, logical place. My desire to have business school be about something new was suddenly overshadowed by my need to be somewhere familiar. I spent most of the week wondering about my new role not as a GSB citizen but as an American.
I emotionally withdrew from orientation activities and from the classmates I had looked forward to meeting for so long. Though surrounded by 365 friendly new faces, I felt more alone than I ever have in my life. Instead of checking out the scene at Q's or the Goose, I found myself glued to the headlines, constantly pressing the "refresh" button on my web browser, still expecting a miracle. Without being in NY and seeing the changed skyline, or smelling the smoke, or hearing the sirens, I had somehow convinced myself that this was all some terrible nightmare from which I would soon awake.
The last fear proved unwarranted, for at 6:30am the following morning I received a wake-up call that I will never forget. "Sal," I heard my sister say, as I still lay half asleep. "There was a tragedy in New York this morning. A plane hit the World Trade Center." I imagined she meant a small plane. A Cessna or something. Must've had an accident. Maybe the pilot lost control, or the engine failed. Drawing on the security and safety I have known my entire life, I could not imagine anything worse in my own backyard.
Having grown up with a television and radio in almost every room of my house, I was amazed to find myself without either in my barely unpacked room. So I went online. Or tried to, at least. I must've tried to enter CNN, MSNBC, and other news sites more than a dozen times, but it was of no use. They were already jammed. The phone lines weren't much better. So I turned to Instant Messenger and began a string of heart wrenching IMs that would be my most reliable lifeline to NY for the next few days.
Those were undoubtedly the longest days I have ever known. Here I was, at the school I thought would best foster personal growth because it would take me away from the east coast for the first time. But that was how I rationally thought about school when the world was an orderly, logical place. My desire to have business school be about something new was suddenly overshadowed by my need to be somewhere familiar. I spent most of the week wondering about my new role not as a GSB citizen but as an American.
I emotionally withdrew from orientation activities and from the classmates I had looked forward to meeting for so long. Though surrounded by 365 friendly new faces, I felt more alone than I ever have in my life. Instead of checking out the scene at Q's or the Goose, I found myself glued to the headlines, constantly pressing the "refresh" button on my web browser, still expecting a miracle. Without being in NY and seeing the changed skyline, or smelling the smoke, or hearing the sirens, I had somehow convinced myself that this was all some terrible nightmare from which I would soon awake.