Etched in My Mind - Remembering September 11th

This year, more than any other year, the events of September 11th popped up in my life in so many different ways toward the end of August/early September. One of the assigned books for an Ed.D. class on Monday is Forever After: New York City Teachers on 9/11. I had started reading it, and then a couple of weekends ago my sister and I rented a movie to watch at my parents. She had already seen it and when we were deciding whether or not to get it, she said that it was good but that the ending caught her completely off guard. I won't mention the title because I can see what she meant about an unexpected ending that linked into the events of September 11th. We were both surprised that all the previews and talk about the movie had not let that link slip out. As if that was not enough, a copy of Megan McCafferty's Second Helpings that I had requested on interlibrary loan over a year ago magically arrived at the library. I started reading it without realizing that Jessica Darling would be grappling with the events of 9/11 during her senior year in high school.

I don't know that I had ever written in depth to reflect on my experiences of the September 11th attacks, but the day is etched in my mind. For my class there were different options to respond to Forever After, and one of them was a narrative of where I was that day, how it compared to the teachers in the book, and the implications of my experience and theirs on my teaching. I knew right when I read the assignment sheet that I would choose the narrative option. I started my narrative before beginning the book. Tomorrow I will go back and revise and add in the ideas related to the teachers in the book, as well as teaching implications.

I have often thought about proximity and how my view of September 11th was deeply impacted by being on exchange at the University of Rhode Island. I always sensed that had I experienced it from back in eastern Oregon that I never would have fully gotten it. Reading Forever After makes me realize that compared to the teachers in New York City sharing their stories, I still cannot fully fathom the impact. While writing my narrative, I realized that in some ways it is so clear in my mind, yet I know some of the details that I would like to include in my narrative are fuzzy. I wish I would have been journaling while on exchange, but like most of my college career, I didn't document my daily life.

Here is my narrative that is still a work in progress that still ends a bit abruptly:

            I sat in the computer lab checking my email in anticipation of any messages from home. It was still early on in my semester on exchange to the University of Rhode Island, and though I could hardly contain my excitement for the experience, it was also my first time living farther than a 15 mile radius from my parents – my whole family on the opposite side of the United States. It was too early for any instant messaging, they would all still be in bed, so my only hope was email. As I switched between homework assignments and Internet distractions while waiting for class to start, there was instantly an automatic buzz in the computer lab.

            I could tell that something major had happened, but I could not tell what, and I barely knew anybody at the whole university, let alone at that early of an hour in the lab. I picked up on bits and piece, “A plane hit one of the twin towers,” “Oh my gosh, now another plane hit the other tower!” My mind was trying to piece together the eerie feeling that had overcome the laboratory and to figure out what all this meant. Hitting one of the towers must have been a horrible, terrible accident, but how did two accidents of that scope just happen to occur that close together, I wondered.

            As I left for class, the same sense of panic and frenzy was overtaking the campus. When I got to class I still felt like an outsider, not getting what happened, but luckily, I finally felt comfortable asking someone. Not long after our professor came in. The level of concern in the whole room was high. People were wondering about family members and friends who worked in or near the trade center. It was not long before our professor asked us whether we wanted to stay or go, including that she could not imagine conducting a class with this big of an event on everybody’s minds. Nobody protested leaving class, and the university president’s directive to continue on with classes as normal had not yet been announced.

            I made my way back to my dorm, emotions rising to the surface. By then I knew that it was not an accident, that it was a terrorist attack – something that was unfathomable to me. I always felt so secure growing up in rural Oregon. I instantly called my dad at work. As he said hello I could feel tears coming to my eyes and my voice cracked as I said, “Dad, have you seen the news?” In his brief response of a yes, I could also hear his voice crack. The vision of my dad cracking down raised my level of emotions even more. Next I called my mom, who was still sleeping and had not heard anything. She was not fully awake and even more confused than I had been in the lab, first thinking I was saying that there were terrorists at my school.

            The next call was to one of my college friends who was also on the east coast, continuing on for a Master’s program. The only thing I remember about our conversation was me saying, “I wanted to make sure that you were okay since you are in New York,” and she replied, “Mandy, you’re closer to it then I am.” Even though I knew I was close, in the frenzy of the day I had not thought about just how close I was. Thoughts started flashing through my mind, wondering if I should just go back home. After all, my university would not even start fall trimester until the end of the month. I could go back home and slide back into my old life, back to the familiar. However, as if my sense of insecurity were not high enough, my friend’s comment drove home just how vulnerable I was at that moment. My first time trying to go out into the big world, and all of a sudden realizing that even if I wanted to go home I could not because all public transportations were quickly shutting down – a scenario I had never considered when I flew away from everything that was comfortable to me.

            It took much longer for the impact of the events to sink in with me than it appeared to with my New England counterparts. Later that semester when I went on a day trip to New York City with my college for the first time I was in awe by all the skyscrapers. Images of the New York skyline with the Twin Towers were all over in various shops and stores, towering way over every other building. I could not fathom how that was even possible since even the “ordinary” buildings were breathtaking.

            Throughout that semester at Rhode Island I could not help but think that I would have had a completely different understanding of the events had I experienced it back in Oregon. Seeing pictures of New York City and images of the Twin Towers never really registered just what the scale was like, and being in Oregon would have distanced me from the panic that I sensed from the reaction of those concerned about family members.