I remember 9/11

This morning when I sat down to write, I felt the sting of writing this date in my notebook. These are the words that came out next. I have been wanting to write about my experience as a brand new teacher on 9/11 in the Bronx. This is a start.

I rememebr…

I remember running into a college classmate 

at the 59th street subway platform.

A quick hello before catching the 4 train

bound for my fifth grade classroom in the Bronx.

I remember the security guard repeatedly coming to our classroom door

announcing that yet another student’s family member was here 

to take them home.  

And just when I was about to open my door and ask what was happening,

the school principal walked in and pulled me aside. 

“Two planes hit the Twin Towers,” she said. 

“The towers are gone,” she said. 

“Don’t tell the kids.”

I remember my mind swirling in disbelief 

as I turned back to my students and continued with the lesson or 

some form of it.  

I remember spotting my friend Joanna outside my room. 

Our eyes met and I felt a pang of desperation for answers and connection. 

I remember the fear in my students’ eyes when they learned the truth. 

I can’t remember if there was an announcement or if I broke the news

but I do remember sitting beside them on the rug 

not quite believing my own words, “We are safe here.”

I rebember watching the news footage on the TV  

in the library across the hallway.

Staring in disbelief at the horrors 

on the screen.

I remember Ann Marie and Kristin, two fellow fifth grade teachers.

Though the three of us had just met, we became fast friends.

Kristin and I were both stranded due to public transit’s shutdown

so Ann Maire offered to take us to her home in Yonkers.

I remember the warmth and comfort of walking into Ann Marie’s home- 

greeted by the sound of a heartfelt “hello” in her parents' Irish brogue. 

I remember the smoke covering lower Manhattan

visible from the subway car window on my ride home the next morning. 

The smell of burning in the air

that would linger for months.

I remember the calm that hung over the streets of the Upper West side 

as if life was normal.

The truth was in the restaurant signs advertising mac and cheese and mashed potatoes-  

comfort food for our weary souls. 

I remember the vigils in Washington Square Park. 

The walls and fences covered with missing person signs 

posted by loved ones desperately clinging to hope. 

I remember the all- staff meeting two days later. 

Counselors advising us on how to talk to our students about the unthinkable. 

I remember my colleague Mark sitting with me and my class. 

He was there when my 24 year old self could not find the words. 

I remember how quickly we bonded- teacher and students and colleagues. 

All a community. 

We had one another. 

We faced the uncertainty and fear of what could come next

together.