Justin Nystrom
Blacksburg
They Reminded Us of Who We Are.
My anger over this tragedy peaked Wednesday night when I discovered that NBC had made the noodle-brained decision to air and then distribute the self-pitying diatribe of our campus’s mass murderer. I was not alone in my displeasure. Many Virginia Tech students felt a sense of outrage, not only at the bizarre justifications spewed in the killer’s venomous message, but also that this was what millions of viewers might associate with our university. Indeed, many whom I have talked with in the last twenty-four hours are ready for the media to go home. “It is hard to pay your respects at the memorial,” one student observed, “when you’re being hounded.” Despite such intrusions, what has emerged from all of this is a sense of our students’ sense of common decency. This was just the latest reminder of many truths about this university that last Monday’s tragedy has brought into focus.
Taking an inventory of both what the killer stole from us and the community he has left behind has only served to illustrate the special place that is Virginia Tech. Spend any time reading the biographies of those who died, and a clear picture emerges of the passion and excellence that they brought to the world in which they lived. Looking at how our university has pulled together in the wake of such tragedy, particularly its students, and one quickly sees that the qualities that we admire in those we have lost are present everywhere in those who remain.
Perhaps the first thing that hit many of us was what a remarkable cross section of Virginia Tech the victims represented. Among them were senior members of our faculty, renowned in their fields of study and grooming a new generation of scholars. They died beside their graduate students, who themselves sought out the rigors of an advanced academic program so they might achieve great things in life. Others were junior faculty just beginning their teaching careers after many years of study. They were actively engaging the minds of their students, some of them just completing their first year of college, when the gunman foreclosed on all their dreams. Norris Hall may have been home to engineering offices, but as a classroom building it hosted an array of activities ranging from liberal arts to technical fields. The students lost that day reflected this fact. They were our future scientists and diplomats, poets and artists, historians and engineers.
They came to us from equally diverse backgrounds. Their ethnic roots left few corners of the globe untouched. They volunteered at camps for kids, drew, painted, played music, and danced. Sons and daughters, husbands and wives, friends and companions, they worked hard and understood the nature of life and how to live it.
In short, had Virginia Tech decided to create a brochure or website designed to promote itself to the outside world, it could not have arrived at a more representative mix of individuals, even had it spent months hand-picking an assortment of shining and rising stars. But university officials would not have had to resort to anything so contrived. Those stars were there that tragic day, assembled randomly in a series of classrooms and a residence hall.
Inspiration also comes from those who are left behind. I have spoken with many of my students over the course of the last few days. It has been difficult for everyone, a rude jolt in a season that normally carries so much hopeful anticipation. Yet one theme emerges in many of these conversations – a sense of purpose, of decency, of compassion. Sure, there is anger, real anger. But the feeling of concern here for each other is far greater. I have no doubt these promising young people, touched by tragedy, will grow from this experience. Overcoming such adversity may even help them successfully carry their dreams into what can sometimes be an unforgiving world.
It is sad that even as I write this, countless media outlets will continue to repeat the pointless ramblings of the killer. Instead, we must remember the lives of those who were lost. Moreover, in honoring the dead, we should also remember that an entire constellation of stars remain on campus. Those 32 we have lost, and those many thousands who remain, represent the real Virginia Tech. As the university’s slogan suggests, we gather here to “invent the future.”
Justin Nystrom teaches United States and Southern History at Virginia Tech.