"A plane crashed into a building in New York City."
A seventh grader said those words to me. He had heard that from another teacher. It was all we knew early that morning.
But the news became grim.
I made a decision to continue on with as normal routine as possible until we knew for sure what was happening. We turned on the TV the last ten minutes of class to watch the news of the event. I didn't think any of us, but especially twelve-year-olds, needed to watch the horrific news all day. To this day, I'm not sure it was the right decision.
I went home and sat glued to the TV. Tears fell often. The image seared in my mind is of a reporter giving her report when a piece of the Towers went down and then she was covered in ash.
I remember the deaths of JFK and his brother, Robert. Martin Luther King, Jr and John Lennon. I can tell you where I was when I heard the news. But this was different. I could see it happening. My kids and my students could see it happening. And this wasn't famous people killed by a crazy one.
This attacked us all.
Other reflections on 9/11