story5448.xml

story5448.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2002-09-11

I was preparing for my first class of the day when one of the other staff members came running into the teacher's room saying that an airplane accident had occurred at the world trade center. She turned on the television, and we watched in horror as we saw the first airplane hit one of the buildings. Immediately I told the others in the teachers' room that it wasn't an accident and walked upstairs to teach. I felt as if someone had punched me in the stomach. My thoughts jumbled through my head as I struggled to teach. The students quickly saw my distress but I couldn't bring myself to tell them. I vaguely told them that my mind was on lots of things.

Approximately 15 minutes later, the principal began to announce the names of students over the loudspeaker and told them to go to the office with their bookbags because they were going home. I, as well as other support teachers, went downstairs and began taking names from parents in the cafeteria because they no longer fit in the office and brought students down. The rest of the time was spent going up and down to get the students. Some parents worked in the WTC or near that area. They were covered in soot and visibly shaken. The younger students couldn't understand what was going on and a few wanted to remain in school.

I called my mom who takes care of my 2 young sons and spoke to her. However, I was unable to reach my mother-in-law who used to frequent Century 21 located near the WTC and panic set in. People began calling on their cell phones and were unable to communicate because the system was deluged with phone calls. It wasn't until after 6 p.m. that I was able to breathe easier--my relatives were safe and sound.

In school, I went back to my room and talked to one of the other teachers. From that side of the building we had always been able to see the WTC, so we saw the huge black clouds of smoke. Suddenly, my husband, who had been volunteering at the school until he found a job, came in and told us that the building had collapsed. (Once he found a job, he continued to volunteer on his day off.) We looked up in total dismay to see just the cloud of smoke billowing.

My cousin was going to work near the WTC collapsed. He related his harrowing experiences and my skin developed goose bumps as I began to cry. Apparently, an older man told him, "Don't go that way....return the way you came." The old man told him "move you need to keep moving. As they both began to move, the old man was now where my cousin was standing. The debris fell on him, and killed him. My cousin described him as his guardian angel because this man, not only told him to move but had said to him "God Bless you my son, you've got to move!" My cousin ended up walking to the Bronx covered in soot and blood. He said that he was so upset that by the time he got to one of the bridges that crosses over from Manhattan to the Bronx he had bought a bottle of liquor. A policeman saw him and didn't say anything because he realized where my cousin had come from.


For a long time after September 11th, I spent sleepless nights and cried. At school, I had to remain composed and maintain normalcy for my students. At home, however, watching the coverage became too difficult. Gradually, the sadness has lessened and the fears diminished but it hasn't completely disappeared.