9.11.01

I stumbled into my first period English class with wet hair. It was picture day, and like a typical 11th grade girl, I was ticked that I had overslept and hadn't had enough time to primp. I took my seat, and the teacher was nowhere to be found. Nothing too out of the ordinary; he was a pretty crappy teacher. Then, I noticed a radio news program playing quietly from the back of the room. The reporters seemed frantic. They were describing a devastating act of "terrorism" on American soil. The bell had rung minutes ago, and my teachers still hadn't begun class, so I figured that the radio program he was playing must have been part of the lesson. I listened-in more intently. They kept mentioning this word, "terrorism." At 16, I knew little of terrorism. Pearl Harbor was the only real attack I could think of, so I concluded that my teacher had found some archival news program from that attack and was playing it to prep us for a unit on World War II or something. But the program kept playing, and the teacher kept ignoring us. Finally, I leaned over to another student and asked what was going on. He informed me that he saw it on TV before he left for school. Another student said he had heard about it on the radio on his way to school. I felt so out of the loop. My morning had been so hectic, I hadn't heard a word. Until now. Planes. Crashing into the World Trade Center. What's the World Trade Center? Oh, those two identical sky-scrapers in New York City. The Twin Towers. Yeah, I've heard of those. It was incredibly difficult to wrap my teenage mind around the event. Until my teacher found a TV, so I could see for myself. The TV was rolled into our classroom just in time to see the second plane hit the second tower. And finally, it was real. Suddenly, picture day was the last thing on my mind.

Rumors flew around the high school as I went from class to class. Rumors about who was responsible and why they wanted to harm us. Rumors about the Winter Olympics, which were to be held in my city in less than six months, being their next target. Rumors of the budding war. In every class, the teacher either played the radio or showed TV footage. It was a day free from lessons and books, but we were all more captivated than ever. We learned more on that day than any other single day of school.

I was so young, but I was old enough to understand. I was old enough for the attacks to have an impact on my life. For the weeks and months that ensued, I witnessed my country come together as one to mourn and to celebrate our freedom. For the first time, I truly understood what it meant to be a patriot.