I was 17 and a high school junior. That morning in Human Geography I was supposed to be delivering a report, ironically enough, on the Middle East’s political situation. On my way to school I had heard reports about an accident at the World Trade Center but it must have just happened because no further details were given.
A few minutes into my report our principal came into our room and asked to speak to our teacher, who had instructed me to continue with my report for the TA. I finished and sat back down, and we all sat in silence wondering what was going on. A few minutes after that my teacher returned with our math teacher (whose classroom was next door) carrying a big TV to hook up.
Just as we started watching NBC’s coverage of the World Trade Center we saw the second plane hit the South Tower. At that moment it hit us that this was not an accident and the implications of what that meant were far beyond any of our comprehension, but we were scared, dumbfounded, amazed, and glued to the television.
The rest of the day was surreal; like a weird dream. Our principal asked everyone to congregate in the gym for a public announcement and discussion about what was happening (as it was happening) and soon after we all spent the rest of the day glued to the TV as we watched everything unfold. Some students went home to be with family but the majority of us stayed in school, myself included. Everything academic was postponed for the next two days as we all tried to make sense of what had happened and what this meant for our country’s future. My high school was small and we all knew each other well, but for some reason we felt much closer to each other the rest of the year. Old grudges didn’t really matter for those few days. These events matured me a lot.
I, thankfully, didn’t know anyone who perished on 9/11 but that doesn’t mean my life hadn’t changed, and my heart goes out to everyone who was forever changed by this moment in time. I still remember when it was fun to fly, and days when you could accompany a friend to the terminal as they waited for their flight, and (as a kid) when you could talk to the pilot midair and receive a wing pin for meeting him or her. It pains me to know those days are long gone, but I’m grateful I got to live them.