A lot will be said about America today. About what America
should do in Syria. About how America fits into the bigger picture of the
world. About how America coped with the largest terrorist attack it has ever
seen just twelve short years ago.
I cannot tell you the tale of all of America in the
aftermath of 9/11. I can only tell you one story. Mine.
I was a first year teacher at a small parochial school in
northwest Indiana. I taught a dual grade classroom, 27 fifth and sixth graders.
27 ten and eleven-year-olds. All neatly in their seats. All turned to lesson 17
of their math books. All listening intently on that day’s lesson while I
explained it to them, giving examples on the chalkboard.
About 8:50 in the morning on a sunny Tuesday, the school
secretary came in to tell me that there had been a terrible accident involving
a passenger jet and a skyscraper in New York City. I told her that we would
pray for all involved. And we did. Right then. Right there. We stopped Math
class and prayed for the victims and their families.
The lesson went on for about fifteen more minutes, at which
time the secretary asked to see me in the hallway. She informed me that a
second airliner had just hit another tower in New York City. That this was no
longer viewed as an accident, but an attack.
Once again the class prayed with me. This time not only for
victims and their families, but also for safety for our Nation.
I chose to take my class outside for recess. It seemed that
we all needed a break from the cold reality that was setting in.
Upon arrival back to our room, we knew that The Pentagon had
been hit, then that another plane had gone down in a field in Pennsylvania.
As I tried to absorb and process this information, I glanced
around the room. What I saw still gives me shivers to this day.
My sweet, innocent students had a certain haunting look in
their eyes. While unable to grasp the full impact of what was happening, they
knew that people were dying and that their country was under attack by an
unknown assailant.
Gone were the looks of glee. The merriment in their eyes.
Gone was the laughter and chatter. In its place was solemnity and confusion.
What was I to do with these 27 children? I had been
entrusted by their parents and our school to take care of them the best way I knew
how. How in the world was I supposed to protect them? These thoughts raced
through my mind throughout the rest of the day.
We carried out the rest of the day, going through the
motions of class, talking through our fears, trying to wrap our heads around
why someone would bomb innocent people. My students had questions that I could
not answer.
I knew that my students would take their cues from me. If I was
calm, they would remain calm. I continued on through the day as if nothing new
had happened, and as if it was an everyday occurrence that our country has
terrorists’ attacks. Inside, I was screaming. I was raging. I was bawling. Only,
on the outside, I wasn’t. I was smiling. I was reassuring children. I was the
epitome of calm.
One little guy was just sure that they would bomb our town
because we had two water towers. While I assured him that we had nothing that
was worth bombing, I thought to all of those people in places that did. To what
they were doing. To how they were dealing with the day’s events.
Finally, dismissal arrived. I hugged each of the students as
they left. Hoping to reassure them. Many parents picked up their children from
school that day, feeling the need to be with their families.
We held a short staff meeting after school, and then went
out separate ways. I had needed to stop at the gasoline store to fill up my
car, but the line was a quarter mile long, so I bypassed that stop and just
went home.
I fought the urge to turn on the television set. To this day
I thank God that I did. I did not need those horrific images seared into my
head from multiple views. The photos and radio reports were quite enough to
crumple me to the floor in a heap of tears.
JP and I went to bed that night in silence, for what was
there to say?
The next morning, I returned to school. My sweet students
had an aged look about them. Gone forever was the childhood innocence. All was
taken from them the day before. Most had watched what I had not. Most had seen
people fall to their deaths. People burned alive. People running through the
streets and collapsing. Most had seen the worst of human nature.
However, that fateful day, they had seen something else.
Something far greater than the evil of man. They had seen the resilience of
America.
America had fallen under attack, but it was not down for
long. The American Spirit was revived. No longer were we Democrats,
Republicans, Jews, Greeks, and Dutch. No longer were we Caucasians, Hispanic,
Asian, and African American. No longer were we old, young, rich and poor. We
were Americans.
Americans that held each other. Helped each other. Carried
each other. We watched as ordinary people did extraordinary acts of bravery. We
discussed how we could help, then put our plans into action.
Yes, my students and I lost the feeling of safety in our
country on September 11, 2001. However, we found ourselves united with others
across our great land in a large wave of patriotism.
Never had I seen so many American flags. Never had I seen so
many people stand for our National Anthem. Never had I seen so many people
participate in the Pledge of Allegiance.
Even to this day, twelve years later, the term “9/11” is
stated, and instant chills run through my body. I stand a little straighter. I
take a moment to remember those that lost their lives. I thank God that the
final victim count was not higher.
So today, I will remember. I will weep. I will pray. I will
watch. I will listen. I will reminisce. However, I will also ponder on this
question: Why did it take such a huge atrocity in our own country for our
country to swell with national pride and patriotism?
May we never forget that fateful, sunny, Tuesday morning.
May we never forget where we were. For me, it was standing in front of a
classroom full of children that trusted me. May we always remember that, no
matter our political party, our religion, our race, we are all
Americans.
God bless you all, and God bless our wonderful and beautiful
United States of America.
No comments:
Post a Comment