My 9/11 Memories
Sep. 12th, 2015 01:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
grimrose_eilwynnYesterday was the anniversary of the 9/11 attacks, so today I'm going to talk about my memories of that time.
I was barely old enough to remember the 9/11 attacks -- just a little third grader, an eight year old girl. I went to a little alternative learning elementary school: three grades to a classroom, the classes focused on small sized lessons and kinesthetic and auditory learning, with a little garden outside. We could sit anywhere, around tables or on the floor or outside, and just as long as we finished our individual packets of work by the end of the week we were left alone.
Well, we had a janitor everyone called Mr Dan, a friendly man who listened to a portable radio attached to his hip as he worked. He heard what was going on that morning through the radio. He hurried into our classroom, pale. "Turn on the radio," he said to our teacher -- one of my favorites I've ever had, the woman who taught me how to love reading by walking me through books side by side with me.
Our teacher turned on the radio and started crying. Everyone looked at each other, silent. Not a single one of us knew what was going on.
We were sent home early that day, and for the next few days all anyone did was sit around the TV screen and watch what was happening in shock. My mother cried. My father called everybody he knew just to sit in silence with them over the phone and say over and over again, "Are you watching this? I can't believe this."
I remember certain images from the TV broadcasts. I remember the huge buildings falling in hails of fire. I remember a woman and her baby, freshly saved from the buildings by first responders. They were both covered in blood. The woman was clutching her baby, screaming. My mother saw my face and quickly turned the TV off, scolding my grandfather for letting the image run while I was sitting there. But maybe he thought I deserved to see it. I've certainly never forgotten it.
And I remember it just making me think: "How can people be so cruel to each other? There is no excuse for anyone doing this to anyone else -- none at all."
I was barely old enough to remember the 9/11 attacks -- just a little third grader, an eight year old girl. I went to a little alternative learning elementary school: three grades to a classroom, the classes focused on small sized lessons and kinesthetic and auditory learning, with a little garden outside. We could sit anywhere, around tables or on the floor or outside, and just as long as we finished our individual packets of work by the end of the week we were left alone.
Well, we had a janitor everyone called Mr Dan, a friendly man who listened to a portable radio attached to his hip as he worked. He heard what was going on that morning through the radio. He hurried into our classroom, pale. "Turn on the radio," he said to our teacher -- one of my favorites I've ever had, the woman who taught me how to love reading by walking me through books side by side with me.
Our teacher turned on the radio and started crying. Everyone looked at each other, silent. Not a single one of us knew what was going on.
We were sent home early that day, and for the next few days all anyone did was sit around the TV screen and watch what was happening in shock. My mother cried. My father called everybody he knew just to sit in silence with them over the phone and say over and over again, "Are you watching this? I can't believe this."
I remember certain images from the TV broadcasts. I remember the huge buildings falling in hails of fire. I remember a woman and her baby, freshly saved from the buildings by first responders. They were both covered in blood. The woman was clutching her baby, screaming. My mother saw my face and quickly turned the TV off, scolding my grandfather for letting the image run while I was sitting there. But maybe he thought I deserved to see it. I've certainly never forgotten it.
And I remember it just making me think: "How can people be so cruel to each other? There is no excuse for anyone doing this to anyone else -- none at all."
