Once more we see the videos and hear the names read. Once more we remember where we were on that fateful day twenty-two years ago. I remember thinking I was glad my parents never saw it. Now, I am happy our grandchildren never did.
I was teaching a class at Kennedy High School in Cedar Rapids. I was “firing up” the computers in the media center. My class was about to enter the room for a lesson I had prepared for my seniors. They were about to begin research for their “term paper” requirement, learning how to cite sources. I turned on the computer, heard the Trade Center had been attacked. My first thought was that when we lived in New Jersey, we could see those towers, a mere thirty-five miles away.
I remember quickly looking up World Trade Center and discovered some 30-40,000 people worked or visited those buildings each day. I immediately prayed that it was so early, surely they couldn’t all be there this early.
An announcement came to teachers that we could, if we wished, suspend our lessons for the day to watch the news being broadcasted from New York.
When the students entered, they had no idea what had occurred. I told them there was an attack on the Trade Center tower in New York City, and that, if they wished, they could pay attention to that rather than the lesson I had prepared. There were tears. There was anxiety. There was a sense that the world would never be the same. Many thought it was an accidental hit on the first tower until they saw the second attack.
One student had a relative who worked there. She asked if she could call home. It was, of course, before each student had a cell phone. I allowed her to ask the media specialist if she could call home. Of course, she was allowed. She discovered that her relative had not yet arrived at work. He was on a train headed for his job and had not yet reached his destination.
Before the class left the room, at the end of the class, the second tower was hit and we knew it was an attack on the country, not just on New York City.
The next class already had some knowledge of what was happening. They asked if they could watch the news story. Of course, we did. I realized history was being made at that very moment.
Several of my student that day made career choices. I wish I knew just how many became soldiers, firefighters, emergency responders, etc., but I am sure the response was to serve. I saw every emotion that day: tears, disbelief, anger, worry, and loss of innocence. I was teaching English language arts to freshmen and seniors at one of the best high schools in Iowa. My students wrote about that day, researched topics related to that day for their term papers (architecture, biographical accounts, journalistic formats recounting the day’s events, and engineering topics such as structural engineering, the Muslim question of who could have possibly conceived this idea, and material about improving security of airports.
It’s difficult to say that good things com from bad occurrences, but we have learned much since that day. We are certainly as a nation more security conscious. We understand why it’s necessary to be screened before entering public buildings or boarding airports. We have become more vigilant. We know our responsibility: If you see something, say something. We recognize how naïve we were as a nation, how innocent. We saw an outburst of nationalism. We gave thanks for those who lost their lives, for those who gave their lives for others, and for the intrepid reporting of the then-honest media. We prayed, oh, how we prayed.
Since that day, we have fought horrid wars, sending our precious young men and women to retaliate. We have learned that not all Muslims want us dead. We have, however, less trust in our government officials and the news media. Some have decided not to engage in politics, not to watch news broadcasts, and to “just live their lives.” It is to their peril.
Some textbooks refuse to mention who was responsible for the attacks and have reduced the story of twenty-two years ago to mere paragraphs if they mention it at all. Some parents will not let their children or their grandchildren see the horrors of the films today. That’s their choice. But I and those of the “senior” class of citizens will recall where we were that day, glued to our TV’s, eager to learn the background, and praying for our country and those who lost their lives. I for one wrote a series of books about a family whose lives were turned upside down that day. I urge my readers to read my Whispering Woods series.
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