9/11

My entire eighth grade class, crowded into a single classroom, was growing restless. The noise level in the classroom managed to escalate from quite murmurs to a roar as we wondered we had been called into Mrs. Lucas’ classroom. Mrs. Lucas, the homeroom teacher and stern motherly figured we all loved, entered and quieted wish a simple “hush.” My class sat in complete silence as she calmly explained the Pentagon and Twin Towers in New York had been attacked. She said the middle school grades would be gathering in the gym so the principle could explain in further detail. Switching to a stern motherly voice, she warned us the elementary children would be told there had just been a fire and if any of us told them there had been attack we would have to answer to her. I didn’t even know what the Pentagon and Twin Towers were, but felt too stupid to ask anyone because everyone else seemed to know exactly what Mrs. Lucas was talking about. I quietly asked my best friend Jessica what the Twin Towers and Pentagon were. She stared at me like I had just asked her who Leonardo Decaprio was. She sighed after her attempted explanation, of how there was some movie she once saw where some guy tried to break into the Pentagon, failed and then she proceeded to complain about how she wouldn’t be able to watch her favorite show. When I got home, I attempted to do my homework as if it was a normal day without success, but learned I actually knew what buildings had been attacked and I just didn’t know their names.