Katrina Voices: Jackson Troutt
Jackson Troutt
Photo by Jeffry Pike
When Katrina hit I was beginning graduate studies in Asian history at the University of New Orleans. The university had hired me as a teaching assistant, and I was excited about the prospect of being an educator. When I dismissed my classes that Friday before the storm, no one brought up the possibility that the storm might be headed our way. Katrina seemed to turn toward us abruptly and unexpectedly. Even on Saturday, I barely entertained the possibility that Katrina might hit us. In my six years in New Orleans, I was never evacuated for a storm.
When I woke on Sunday morning, Mayor Nagin was saying that a category five was headed directly for the city. I collected a few belongings and headed north to Memphis, Tennessee to stay with my parents. The mass exodus was like something out of a movie. The drive to Memphis usually takes about five hours. This time it took between 15 and 20. On the road I saw the people of New Orleans at their best, showing infinite patience and stopping to help one another. After the levees broke, I stayed glued to the television for a week straight. My home in New Orleans was spared the worst of the flooding. However, the roof did not hold, thus water got in anyway.
Searching for classmates and faculty members on the computer message boards, I noticed a posting regarding opportunities for Katrina students at Harvard Extension School. I applied because I realized that the only thing I could do was persevere and continue my studies.
I have been continuing my history studies this fall and have been very impressed with the faculty and the students. The Extension School family went out of its way to ease our transition to Harvard, notably Dr. Queen, dean of students, and the folks at Harvard Real Estate, who provided us with outstanding accommodations. I have decided to finish my master’s degree here at Extension. Of course, there are many things I miss about New Orleans—a place rooted in three cultures, more food for less money, the Saints losing every Sunday, and most of all, a city that laughs at its own misery and knows how to take it easy.