Nine years ago I was a first year teacher. I was pregnant. I had just found out that I was pregnant with twins. My world had pretty much just been rocked.
And then September 11th happened, and my life, and my stresses, and my worries seemed minuscule in comparison.
I was driving to Gordon Street Center from the middle school I was working at when they interrupted the radio programming to broadcast what was happening in NYC. I drove in a daze. And then the Pentagon. I sat in the parking lot continuing to listen. But then I had to go inside to this training class (for Edison Schools - does anyone remember that???) and we were all a buzz, but the trainer meant business and we had work to do. But no one could focus. No one could concentrate.
That night, I went out to run some errands in Athens and there was no one out. The town was so quiet.
For days I watched the coverage. We wore our USA pins proudly to school. We prayed. We cried. We grieved for those that lost their lives and for those who were left behind...having lost so much.
And every year since, I have remembered. I read books like, Fireboat and The Man Who Walked Between the Towers to my children and to the children in my media center in hopes of helping them appreciate the freedom that we have and the strength of our great nation.