Isn't it crazy that it has been 8 years since that awful day. I can remember exactly where I was and how I found out. I was a sophomore in high school, and like any other morning I was out in the parking lot doing high kicks, or shaking some poms around and being yelled at by the wonderful Mrs. K. Then when we headed to second period I passed the band hall and some of my old band friends told me what happened. The rest of the day we didn't do anything but watch the news in classes and talk about what was going on. I can remember one of my teachers had a sister that was a flight attendant and she was worried about her. I also remember our principal telling the teachers they should carry on with their lessons, and no one listened. Even though we sat there and watched it all day, I don't think I really understood what it meant... the lives that would be lost, the way it would change our country.
And now, it's 8 years later. I am grown up (at least I like to think I am), married to a wonderful man, have a sweet puppy, and a wonderful job. And our country is still feeling the effects of the actions those men decided to take. It didn't hit me today until I had to talk to my kids about it.
We had a pep rally today, and before the yelling and cheering started our super led us in a tribute to the men and women who died that day, and to the first responders that helped so many. I mentioned it to my kids before we left, so that they would be respectful and quiet during the tribute. I didn't expect anything other than that... last year my kids didn't ask anything about it. But this year's group is different.... as soon as we got back to our room they started asking questions about that building that was falling, and the people and the fires. So I had to explain. I got pretty choked up (and I am now too). I think we have gotten used to words like "lost their lives" and "terrorist" and "disaster." When you talk to 5 year olds, you can't use pharses like that. You have to break it down to the simplest version of what happened. I was able to tell them that before they were even in their mommy's bellies, some bad, mean men that didn't like our country flew planes into a big building. That lots of people died who didn't deserve to die that day. I was also able to tell them that lots of men and women ran into the building to help, that firefighters and police men and military people were there to help, that because of them many people lived. When I was done explaining I had lots of hands up... some talking about their grandparents dying, some talking about how their Daddy is in the army, some just talking about how sad it was. I'm sure that some people are thinking that I should have avoided the questions, that I should have told them as little as possible and moved on to counting and colors (which is what we are doing this week). But I think people also forget that they are little people, with big feelings. That's what I love about my job! To see the innocence, the true emotion... the emotions that us adults have learned to hide, and suppress over years of being hurt. I loved seeing a class that is normally loud and excited, become quiet, serious and concerned. I just love their little hearts!
Watching my class today, as they learned about 9-11 made me think back, and say that I don't want to forget it. (I know I know, I won't break into Allen Jackson's song) I know that my family wasn't immediately affected, but there are so many that were! And our country was... and that is worth remembering. If nothing else, I want it to remind us to value life, and our loved ones. The Lord has blessed me, personally, with so many things, and I am so undeserving! I just want to refocus my life... back to the one who truly matters.
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