A VIRGINIA TECH MFT ETHICS CLASS REFLECTS ON THE SHOOTINGS AT VIRGINIA TECH

Journal of Marital and Family Therapy, Apr 2008 by Piercy, Fred, Banker, Jamie, Traylor, Ryan, Krug, Sarah, Castanos, Carolina, Cole, Elise, Ciafardini, Anthony J, Jordal, Christian, Rodgers, Brandon, Stewart, Shelley, Goodwin, Annabelle

As the stories aired and the presence of the media slowly dwindled, we began questioning ourselves. Were some of the stories true? Was our university going to be defined by strangers with cameras at the worst moment in its history? Was this really our defining moment? Is this who we are? Like a commonly heard question on many of our campus tours, we too were beginning to question, "What is a Hokie?"

When we experience tragic events our optimism helps us search for the lessons learned (Walsh, 2006). The events of April 16 provided us the opportunity to reflect on our own character, ethical obligations to self and others, and basic identity-how we situate ourselves in our own personal narrative (White & Epston, 1990).

Reporters and journalists cast their spell on the lives they cover by how they categorize, pigeonhole, or otherwise "spin" them. However, they do not have to define us. Neither does Cho. I see a more life-giving narrative evolving through our stories, art, and music, and support of one another.

This year Time Magazine named our generation "person of the year" because of our ability to invent our future (which, by the way, is Virginia Tech's official slogan). For us at Virginia Tech, this means writing our own stories of life and then living them. We are indeed finding our strength and integrity in our own stories. It is our ethical obligation to define ourselves, our school, and our community, and not leave this job to others.

This also relates to therapy. Though our clients may come to us with thick files and textbook symptoms, I hope I can remember not to be too quick to see their diagnoses, and not them. I hope I can give my clients and the therapy process time to foster healthy definitions and narratives. As the Virginia Tech shootings have taught me, first impressions and other people's truths can be dangerous.

Annabelle Goodwin

I remember seeing a young woman at a coffee shop when she learned that one of her friends was killed in the shootings. She began to cry inconsolably. Her friends hugged her. Between sobs, she talked about her last memories of being with her friend. The group she was with escorted her to a bench outside the coffee shop where she continued to cry. I looked around the coffee shop and saw tears in the eyes of the patrons. I cried too with these strangers. The effects of the shooting rippled through us all.

I have appreciated people's expressions of sympathy and admiration. Another sentiment that I did not appreciate was the suggestion from some that we should keep this tragedy in perspective. I was reminded that there is a war going on in the Middle East; genocide, famine, and disease continue to take the lives of countless individuals on the African continent; the IsraeliPalestinian conflict seemingly has no peaceful resolution in sight. All this, of course, is true. Lives are being taken at an alarmingly high rate and these atrocities exist with less attention than they deserve. More should be done. But global suffering should not be used to diminish the horror we experienced. Nothing should. One person's grief is no less real than another's. Loss and bereavement are authentic feelings (Rothaupt & Becker, 2007) and not to be measured against the suffering of others. My sister's 29-year-old husband died violently a month before the VT shootings. Should her loss rank as less tragic because his death was not reported on CNN? Similarly, one would never suggest to a mother who lost a son in Norris Hall that her loss should not be felt as strongly because her son was one of only 33 killed, compared with the thousands killed in Iraq. The loss of any life is a tragedy.