In 2001, I was in the seventh grade at a small Catholic school in the Bronx called St. Anthony School. Every morning, the entire school would meet in the gymnasium/auditorium for the Pledge of Allegiance, morning prayers, and announcements. Then, each grade would go to their classrooms, take attendance, and begin the day with Reading class.
I remember that the day began much like every other. We had morning assembly, took attendance in our homerooms and then went to Reading class. It was still early in the school year, so the students and teachers were getting used to being back in school, and just beginning the first assignments of the year. In my Reading class, my teacher, Mrs. Mazzola, was starting the book Animal Farm with us and telling us a bit about the author, George Orwell. Mrs. Mazzola had proven during the first days of school that she had a tendency to go off on long tangents when discussing things, and so my class prepared for another long narrative when our principal interrupted her, coming over the loudspeaker to tell the school that a plane had crashed into one of the World Trade Center buildings and that she would keep us updated on any information. I remember laughing along with the rest of my class at that news… Who could be so blind as to crash into a building as tall as the World Trade Center buildings??? How could they not see it!? I also remember finding it odd that our principal would come over the PA system to announce that to us. She didn’t announce every accident to us, so what made this one any different? However, I soon forgot that thought and continued laughing with my classmates over the “idiot” who had flown a plane into a building.
After the initial announcement, things in my Reading class had become a bit unsettled and so Mrs. Mazzola had to spend several minutes trying to get us to return our attention to George Orwell and Animal Farm. However, it seemed that as soon as we got started again, our principal came back over the loudspeaker and announced that a second plane had flown into the second tower of the World Trade Center. This time, no one laughed. My classmates and I exchanged worried glances as we talked about relatives and friends that we knew that worked in the area or in the towers themselves, and our principal announced that it had not been just “planes” as we originally thought, but commercial jets. Our worry turned to outright fear when she announced that the crashes were thought to be part of an attack on the United States, and so every teacher was to line their classes up and proceed to the gym for further instructions. As we gathered into the gym, one of the teachers set up the only television our school had and turned to the news. I remember sitting on the gym floor watching and rewatching the footage of the planes crashing into the towers in stunned silence. The whole thing was so surreal. Even though we were sitting and watching it happen, it seemed like something out of a movie. No one could believe that this was actually happening. There was a kind of confusion mixed with horror on everyone’s faces as we watched and tried to figure out what was going on. It was even more confusing because not even the newscasters seemed to know what was going on. It seemed like they were as clueless as we were about the situation. I remember actually feeling deeply scared that something might happen to us, because if they could get the Towers, then our small school was hopeless. I also felt a bit guilty for having laughed at what had turned out to be a tragedy earlier in the morning. A while later, we watched as the South, then the North tower collapsed in a pile of smoke and ash. A few people started crying and no one really spoke. Some of the teachers and the principal looked like they were praying, but too scared to do anything else. At that point, the word had spread that the United States had been attacked, and so parents came rushing to the school to pick their children up and bring them home. My younger brother Jeremy and I had to stay, watching all our friends leave and not really knowing what was going to happen to us, because no one could pick us up. Instead, we stayed in school, watching the news and waiting for the updates as they came to us.
Photo of the Towers burning prior to collapse
Image courtesy of the National Park Service
I don’t really remember much else about the day after that point except getting home from school around noon, and watching the footage on the news in my grandmother’s room as they replayed it over and over again. I remember rewatching the people with the signs in the windows and the people jumping from the buildings, and not really understanding at the time that I was watching the end of people’s lives, but feeling a deep sadness nonetheless. For some reason, I found myself crying even though I didn’t know those people. It was only after I had been home for a while that we started seeing footage and images of building #7 collapsing, the aftermath at the Pentagon, and the field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania. There seemed to be so much going on, it was overwhelming, and at that time, no one was really sure what had happened still. The images from that day, almost nine years ago now, are still burned into my memory as if it had just happened yesterday. That was truly the first time that such a large-scale national tragedy had been brought to the forefront of my mind so quickly and vividly, and I sensed that day that somehow things had changed, though I wasn’t sure what exactly. In the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks, I really learned that the things we read about in history books aren’t as removed as they seem and that it could most definitely happen in our time. Even now, though, I don’t really understand the hatred that motivated those 19 men to take so many innocent lives, and time has not removed surreality of the footage and images from that day even though I fully understand the reality and tragedy of it now.
I like your post. It seems like we had somewhat of a similar reaction to it. I definitely went through the realization that the events that happen in history books aren't as removed as they seem.
ReplyDeleteWhen 9/11 happened I still lived in my home country Moldova. I saw it on TV of course, it was huge, but I didn't have the same reaction as you and all Americans, especially New Yorkers. For me it seemed so far away, almost like in a different world, or a movie. At the same time I was starting to realize that things I thought I would only hear in history class are happening in my lifetime. For you, however, it was a much bigger shock and a different experience. I can't even imagine my reaction if something like that occurred in my home city.
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