Patriot Day

That morning 8 years ago I was getting ready for work when Bill called me and told me to turn on the TV. I turned it on just in time to see the first tower fall. The kids were too young to understand what was happening, they were just upset because mommy was crying and they didn't know why.

The attacks did not effect me personally. I was thousands of miles away. Everyone I knew was safe. But none of us felt safe that day.

I went to work in a fog. All the teachers and older students were traumatized, but the little kids knew little of what had transpired and we kept it that way. What do you say to a 6 year old that they could understand without traumatizing them needlessly? The TV in the media center ran news all day, but the classrooms were shockingly normal.

I remember how quiet the skies were. You don't realize how much background noise is created by airplane traffic until there is none.

What can be said about that horrible day? I like to dwell on the hero stories that emerged. The firefighters who went up. The ordinary people who fought back. The many big and small stories of sacrifice and service. The unity of a nation. I miss that. How sad that it takes tragedy to unite us.

For several years after we held assemblies on this day to remember the lives lost and the bravery shown that day. The assemblies slowly transformed to honoring our firefighters, policemen, and military personnel.

Now? There is no assembly. There is no mention. I teach 1st through 3 grade students this term. Most of them were born post 9/11. The rest were infants then. They know there is something significant about this day, but there is no deep scar associated with it. Do we dredge it up? To we try to instill our scars, our burning memory on a new generation? It did unite us, but will second hand memories ever unite them? No. This is something that belongs to us, just as Pearl Harbor belonged to our grandparents.