Proud to be an American

I remember September 11, 2001 better than most days of my childhood.

I was in 8th grade back then (only a grade or two older than some of my own students now).  I also had the guest room as my own room.  Those days, I liked to wake up at 5 and take my time getting ready, maybe watching some TV, listening to the radio.  No one else was ever awake yet and it was like the downstairs became my own little house.  On that morning, I was listening to 93.3 on the radio.  People were calling in, talking about airplanes being flown into the Twin Towers.  It was the only thing they were talking about and I could sense the anxiety in their voices.  When I ran to wake mom up and tell her what I was hearing, she told me that the radio didn't always tell the truth and that it was nothing.  Not long after I had left her room, she came running down the stairs to turn on the TV.  I remember she was crying and told me we were at war.

School was long and silent that day.  Teachers had puffy eyes and kept slipping into their offices.  I don't remember watching the news at school, but I do remember stealing peaks at their office TV's.  I can still see the planes crashing, the billowing smoke, and the towers collapsing.  Those are images I will never forget.  Teachers kept telling us that we were living history.  It took me a few years to really understand what that meant...

Here I am, 11 years later, teaching my own students about that day.  About the devastation, pain, and heartbreak, but also about the unity and pride it brought out in all Americans.  What a blessed nation we are.