September 11, 2001

It's already September 12, 2006, but I wanted to write down what I remember about September 11, five years ago.

I was in my first month of my first year of teaching. I always woke up and took a shower and hopped back in bed to put my make-up on and watch the Today Show. I was 24. It's hard to believe I was that old. Now it seems like I was such a baby.

Katie Couric broke the news that something was wrong with the World Trade Center. No one seemed to know exactly what was going on until the second plane hit. It made my guts twist. They showed a replay of it over and over again until...I don't even know when they stopped.

I moved like a zombie to finish getting ready. Everyone around me did the same thing. I think we didn't know what else we were supposed to do. We were all waiting on orders. From who?

I stopped at the Maverick on my way to school, because I did it every day. I got a drink and a sweet roll that I had no appetite for. Looking back though, my reaction was so juvenille. It was robotic and unbelieving and I had a strange sense of invincibility.

When I got to my room I turned on the television. I walked to the office to make copies and passed the princible in the sick room watching the tv with all sorts of children crowded behind him to see what was happening. I heard him exclaim, "It's going down. It's crashing down." I still had no sense of what was happening. It didn't even strike me that thousands of people were being dropped and buried. Huh?

I heard my name over the intercom, "Mrs. Dial, you have a phone call on line 1." I went to the work room and picked up the call. It was the father of the only student I had with a disability. He wanted to know what in the world I was thinking not giving spelling tests to the kids each week. It took me completely off guard. I honestly expected him to ask me how I planned to tell the kids what was happening. Especially since his son has Asberger's Syndrome. I stuttered a lame reply. Lame because I know exactly why and I know it was good teaching. He tore me a new one and I just let him. Huh?

So, I walked back into my classroom, where the students were watching the television I'd foolishly left on. I herded them to their seats and turned it off. I was a total wreck.

I stood in front of them and just looked. They wanted answers and they could tell I was a disaster. So, I lost it. Right in front of their meek little faces. I remember telling them that I wasn't scared because of the planes or the buildings, I was upset because of the reprimand (I didn't go into any detail). I think I honestly believed that at the time. Looking back, I think I was upset because in all this tragedy, all this chaos, all this uncertainty, we all just did what we do. Even I did. I don't know if that's wrong, but it's very strange. Waiting for orders. From who?