Remembering 9/11

When tragedy strikes, whether it is on a personal or national level, time stands still, and you remember the tiniest of details that seem so insignificant. That moment freezes, suspending itself in air like a seagull caught in a gust of wind. The day started beautifully, and my students worked outside on a project since my room backed up against the courtyard. I could lift the massive windows and manage those who wanted to work in or outside. Another teacher walked by and told me to turn on the TV so I did, realizing by the look on her face that I should prepare myself for what I would see. 

I know that after 20 years I'm bound to forget some details because, well, I'm getting older. What I know for sure is the confusion I felt when I saw the screen. It had not been so long ago that we took a lot of kiddos on a field trip to NYC and taken pictures with the towers all in them. It seemed impossible, and yet I saw it with my own eyes. 

Students stopped to watch, and I realized that one of my babies had a dad who was at the Pentagon. Fear overcame us both, and the rest of my students did not understand or know how to feel or react. It dawned on me that I was the adult in the room, and my students looked at me to know what to do or how to react. That's a pretty sobering fact, especially since all I really wanted to do was leave and go hold my own little girl. I did the only thing I knew how to do at that moment, and that was to be honest with my kids and to pray. I told them that I, too, was afraid and confused and didn't know what was happening. All I knew was that it was not a surprise to God so it seemed best to pray and ask Him to protect people. 

Over the following days and weeks, life changed for America. I tried to keep my student in tune with that by continuing to talk about it and what was happening with the recovery. We talked about how amazingly well Americans worked together to help New York and how we came together to encourage and pray for our President and military as they went after the enemy. Politics didn't matter, and neither did age nor gender nor home state nor income nor race. We said we would never forget. We said we would always remember. We said that America worked better when she was unified. 

When I stand in my classroom these days, it is a very different place. In some ways, it's better. In other ways, it's not. America no longer remembers September 12th, not as a whole. There are some of us who do, who are still fighting for freedom, for each other, and for those who cannot fight for themselves. Some Americans are going after those left behind in Afghanistan, even though our government left them. Some Americans are contributing to causes that promote who we are as Americans and what we have always stood for. Some of us refuse to go over the cliff with the rest of our country in the madness in which we find ourselves. 

My prayer is that our nation will wake up and put politics aside to heal the wounds that have been created to divide us. My prayer is that we will realize that we must wake up and fight the good fight so that our kids can live in a free society where God is first and we love our neighbors as we love ourselves. 

This photo is one from our trip before the fall of the twin towers. You can barely see them in the background, but I remember them clearly. I remember America and who she was on September 12th. 

May we all do better and honor the memory of those who died on that fateful day 20 years ago.