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

In the end, the university decided to cancel all classes for the week and resume the following Monday. They also implemented a plan that gave students a variety of options for how they could choose to finish out the semester. These choices included everything from going home and taking your grade as of the 16th of April (the day of the shootings) to finishing out the remainder of the semester. While they were not going to make everyone happy, I believe the university made the right decision. Not only did they give students the right to choose how they would finish the semester, but it also gave them a choice on how they would start the healing process for themselves.

This decision by the university did not force any students to come back to school who were not ready. At the same time, it gave those students who wanted the chance to come back to class the choice to do so and to recover some sense of normalcy. It also allowed those students who were graduating in May to have some form of closure at the end of their careers at Virginia Tech. In sum, it has allowed everyone to begin to heal in their own way.

The decision by the school administrators mirrors the choices we and our clients face in therapy. Often, there is no one right way to help our clients overcome the problems they face, no one right therapy, no one right way to heal. Our clients know themselves better than we know them. As we learn this, we begin to see how they also need to be given opportunities to choose their own paths toward healing and recovery.

IS "HOKIE PRIDE" COERCIVE?

Christian Jordal

Less than a month has passed since the tragedy. Final exams, the semester, and graduation day have come and gone, along with the media. Yet, as I drive past the growing memorial on the drill field, it is clear that the tragedy is still very present.

I am stunned, shocked, and need to sit with my grief for a while. It sometimes seems like that is not okay. No sooner had Noms Hall been quarantined than little maroon and orange ribbons began showing up on people's lapels. In subtle and not-so-subtle ways, grief is being expedited in the name of recovery. A sign, "We are strong, We are Virginia Tech" appears over the local Nextel store. Other signs reflect similar sentiments. "We are in this together." "We will prevail." "We remember," yet these signs come so soon. We have just lost our innocence, our sense of living in a safe world (NSW Institute of Psychiatry and Centre for Mental Health, 2000). I need time for this to sink in. I need to sit with my grief before I can unite with anyone.

In the days and weeks that followed the events of April 16th, the campus became awash with maroon and orange. The walls and ceilings of our student center are stuffed with posters, banners, and cards, from every corner of the world. They serve as testimony to the human capacity for compassion, and the desire to reach out. Yet, walking through the student center, I feel overwhelmed. I chafe at the lack of individual space for our community grief. Hokie pride seems to trump individual pain. Consider the memorial service for the victims, held 1 day after the shootings. Nikki Giovanni, Virginia Tech faculty member and poet-in-residence, emphatically stated in her speech, "We will prevail. We are Virginia Tech," and the crowd spontaneously chanted, "Go, Hokies, Go!" While this football cheer may have comforted some, I felt coerced into being resilient. I'm not ready. I've only been at Tech for 9 months. I didn't even know what "We are Virginia Tech" means.