It was early in the school day when our 5th grade class overheard one teacher in the hallway ask another: "Did you hear what happened to the Pentagon?"
I was a new immigrant to the USA from England and I only knew the pentagon as the familiar five-sided shape from math class. In an attempt to be funny I sarcastically answered back “No, we haven’t heard anything since yesterday’s lesson…what now, have they changed it to six sides?” Our teacher didn’t hear or perhaps she ignored me, either way, I am grateful she didn’t acknowledge the silly statement I could soon come to regret.
We entered into the classroom and were immediately confronted by live images of the wounded World Trade Center towers. I froze at the door in shock. Weren’t those the towers I had visited last year? Hadn’t I been at the very top!? I was soon pushed aside as the large class rushed in to see what the excitement was about. The ‘excitement’ did not last long.
The towers stood burning and my stomach knotted up. Our teacher pointed out to us a most horrible sight…people were falling, or perhaps jumping from the towers. At the time we assumed that the jumpers were being rescued, perhaps by trampolines or even fire fighters with open arms. It was probably best that we imagined that for the time being, because the alternative was too real.
The class was abuzz with speculation, we had heard the news reporters say that this must be a terrorist attack and from the back of the class a voice called “Its Cuba!” and for a while a mini-debate took place as to who could conceive this terrible plot and carry it through. We also spoke about the rescue efforts that must be taking place. We imagined scores of people being carried out of the buildings by brave fire fighters.
In the early minuets we thought we knew everything would be fine. Indeed lives had been lost, and we were sad at heart, but we just looked to what we thought the future would bring…justice to those who caused this evil and honor to those who were fighting for so many lives. One of my friends observed the calendar on the wall and exclaimed “Whoa…no way…today is 9-1-1!” ‘Strange coincidence!’, we all thought, and an eerie shudder went up my spine. I was
embarrassedto recall the smart remark I had made earlier regarding the Pentagon.
The discussion ended abruptly with a collective gasp from my classmates and an indescribable cry escaped my lips. I clutched onto the arm of the boy sitting next to me in class, although I hardly knew him. We all realized we had just witnessed the death of hundreds of people. I shook visibly from head to toe, my mind racing with possibilities. Was this it or were more attacks planned on other cities? Were we even safe in school? We were only minutes away from Cleveland…would we be next?
Countless images were being shown on the news and it was becoming difficult to fully comprehend all that we were seeing. Footage was being replayed over and over and over again and each time the fear and panic rose inside me until I simply did not know what to do or think, and several times I noticed that I had been holding my breath.
With the second tower collapse I caved, my face sank into my hands and I sobbed. How did this happen? What had I just seen? Is there more to come?
I believe our teacher had almost forgotten herself too, for all at once she turned the T.V. off as if she had suddenly remembered that she was in a room of 10 and11 year olds. She somehow managed to keep classes going for the remainder of the day. How she managed it was beyond me. I’m sure I simply sat and stared because I remember nothing about the rest of the school day.
There were so many things to think about at the same time. All at once it wasn’t only the friends and family in New York City I was concerned for. My heart ached with worry for the entire world. I felt he insecurity of every next minute so keenly. What was going to become of all this?
One by one, students were being called home by panicked parents. My mother, having been at a doctor’s office watching events unfold, was sure that the school had kept us blissfully ignorant of the day’s horror. She planned to break the news to me gently, knowing that we had so many friends living in the area of the attack that I would worry over. By the end of the day only several students in my class remained, and most of the school had been called home by their family.
By evening time things had begun to sink in. The initial shock was wearing off, and although I was nowhere close to New York, at is as though my own body went into survival mode. I was determined to learn the facts so that I could keep things straight in my mind. This day was a part of me. It was me. My mom allowed me to watch the news for the evening and sat with me, and we held each other and cried both silently and openly. Time kept on passing, but life seemed to stand still.
I had not without a share of tragedy in my life before, but the events of this day tore away so much innocence and naïveté that my entire outlook on life and the world was drastically changed. I think about September 11, 2001 every single day. I would hate to forget it, it would seem cruel to forget so much pain and fear. Not once in my entire school career had I been faced with such a challenge, and I really never was again. There I was in school at my desk, 11 years old and thinking harder that I had ever thought before, and with more thoughts racing through my head then ever since, and it had nothing to do with any of our assigned lessons.
I have never learned so much at once.