Nine years ago today I was a freshman in high school. I had a math test in first period. When the bell was a minute or two off, the test was finished and my teacher started to walk over to my desk. She did not look happy, and was probably going to fuss at me for not turning in my homework. I remember being relieved when another teacher ran into the classroom and started talking quickly and quietly with my teacher. I slipped out without a tongue lashing.
Next up was science, maybe marine biology, I remember the teacher much better than the class. He was Mr. Warren, a tall, soft-spoken black man that worked part-time at a local diner that my friends and I (and everyone else in town!) absolutely loved. He was, and probably still is, a fantastic teacher.
He was sitting at the front of the classroom, in a chair he had pulled up in front of the tiny TV that we sometimes watched documentaries for class on. I stopped just inside the door and looked up at the TV, because it was unusual for it for be on. I remember being confused at the recordings of the burning buildings. I've been to New York, but it was after 9/11, and I honestly didn't recognize the buildings on sight.
When the bell rang, Mr. Warren got up and told us what had happened (though many students apparently got the news in first period). He let classwork go that day, and most of us just watched the news feed. All the teachers let classwork go that day, except my band director. He felt that we needed to be distracted by work, and he was probably right.
Think about where you were when you found out that terrorists had flown into the Twin Towers. Think about how you felt. Now hold that in your mind, and think about it on the anniversary of 9/11. None of us will forget but sometimes we don't really remember.