story20856.xml

story20856.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2006-09-12

I was 11 years old, and in the 6th grade at West Springfield Elementary school. I was sitting in class when I swore I heard a very faint crashing noise. I had turned to ask if anybody had heard the boom, but nobody had. I knew that I had sensitive ears, so I dismissed the noise, and still do not know if I really heard anything of significance. They had drawn the blinds, and I noticed a very slight sense of uneasiness in the teachers. Then, there was an announcement over the intercom. They announced that they were mowing the lawns and working outside, this meaning we were not allowed outside for today and there would be no recess. At time of this announcement, I had arrived at numerous realizations of how odd and unecessary this was. Frankly, it just didn't make much sense. They later came to tell us that something had happened, but were not in position to say exactly what. So many parents and family members of the students had worked at the pentagon.

When school let out, I headed to S.A.C.C (school-aged child care) as I usually do. Many parents were picking up their children early and taking them straight home. A friend of mine from the after school program offered to bring me home and let me stay with them. I just had to ask my dad, so I called him. He told me what happened and I was in total shock. I couldnt believe it. Though, he honestly didnt think so much would come from it at the time. He gave me permission to leave, and I joined my good friend. Her mom picked up her cusins, and we headed home while listening to the news on the radio. It was a reality in which nothing seemed real. We went home and watched the news in sorrow and confusion. It had changed my entire view of our country, of the world, of life. I mean not to say that my views of these aspects were torn, but my young eyes held a strong awakening.

Later that day I headed home. My mom had stayed home that day. Doing housework at the time, having the nice day's breeze come through the open door, she had heard the tremendous boom of the plane crashing into the pentagon from our own home. Maybe that is what I had heard in class that morning.

As the trauma continued, we recieved a call. A father of one of my classmates had been claimed missing. I remember my friends and I were searching through the paper, the Washington Post having listed the names of the missing by the hundreds. There we sat, each name was a person lost, a friend, family, co-worker, a human being. I cannot describe the magnitude of loss and struggle throughout so many families and individuals throughout the world at this time. The father of my friend had died. My classmate, the sweetest and most ingenius child, had lost his father so suddenly and traumatically, he was only 11 years old. In the honor of his father, the school held a ceremony. A tree was planted infront of the main entrance, a beautiful tree. In honor of him and all those who suffered the same fate, for all who became heros (many students presented the awards presented to their parents on 9-11 and the stories behind their hero,) and to all who still carry their heads high and live with these memories.