Kate B's story
September 11, 2001 was a Tuesday, a Tuesday with a funny schedule. There was an early morning assembly, so all classes were an hour later and ten minutes shorter. The assembly was a presentation made by a professional bodyguard and crisis counselor. I forget his name, but he told us stories about all the stars he'd protected, like Chris Farley and Harrison Ford. After the assembly ended, I went to my trigonometry class and from there to my study hall. I was doing my trig homework when Nitin, a guy from my writing class, asked me to edit his paper. I did, and he left me with my math. I soon finished the assignment and started doing a crossword puzzle, when Nitin came back. I thought he couldn't read the comments I'd written on his paper, but instead he said, "The World Trade Center was bombed." "Again?" I replied, mildly irritated at being interrupted, and yet amazed that 8 years after failing to cause much damage the fools were at it again. "Do you want to come watch?" Nitin asked. "No," I said. "I'll watch it later." I had no idea then how right I was. Following my study hall, I went to choir, but didn't stay there long. All of us singers were herded into the much larger band room and joined the band in huddling in the dark around a TV with fuzzy reception, but not before I put my foot in my mouth. "Happy Terrorism Day!" I greeted my fellow singers. I got one response in kind, and about 6 or 7 dirty looks. I couldn't help it. The mood was too somber and I had to break it up. Unfortunately, no one else felt the same way. After chorus, I had my writing class. But again, we were all herded to a TV to watch the news and rumors circulate endlessly. I felt no deep sadness, nothing but surprise at such magnitude of attack and frustration with everyone for freezing in place. Then I thought of my dad. My dad was appointed to a government watchdog board, to make sure that all safety measures were being considered in the construction of a storage site for nuclear waste. He traveled a lot for this board, bouncing back and forth between Las Vegas, the largest city nearest to the storage site, and Washington DC, where he would meet and argue with government officials. He was in Las Vegas today...wasn't he? I couldn't remember, but I still didn't worry. Dad never went to the Pentagon...did he? Finally, the bell rang, and I went to lunch. I sat in the courtyard and looked up at the clear blue sky. It looked so calm and lovely. I couldn't imagine that same sky filled with thick black smoke and choking dust. The closest I could come in my imagination was the pink-gray-green color of the sky just before a tornado or huge storm. But the weathermen can see those coming. There are warning sirens for those. There is no warning for planes falling from the sky. After lunch came chemistry. "Please," I said to my teacher, "please teach us something. My brain is melting from all the TV I've seen today." Bless him, he did go over balancing chemical equations, though he did turn on the TV for the last 10 minutes of class. I don't remember anything until swim practice, after school. I changed into my suit and was ready to hit the water. Some of my teammates were not, however. "Why do we have to practice?" one girl complained. "There are people dying out there." "People die every day," I snapped back. "Yeah, but not innocent ones," she retorted. I seethed, but said nothing. She didn't know anyone in New York. She just wanted to get the day off. I swam hard, trying to forget that the world had gone insane. When I finally got home, my mom confirmed that my dad was in Las Vegas, but that he wouldn't be home for a few days, until they reopened the airports. I tried to find distraction in the TV, but found that most channels had switched to disaster coverage, or had suspended programming entirely. I counted how many stations were devoted to the attacks and complained to my mom, who was not sympathetic. I couldn't understand why. We live in Iowa for God's sake! No one would ever attack here, there's nothing to hit but corn and soybean fields. I was a bitch that day, and I'm not proud of that. Let me just say that I was trying to preserve what I could of my regular life. That doesn't excuse my behavior, but it may explain it a little. I took literally the command that we continue with our lives, and I looked down on those who did not or could not. I'm sorry.
September 11, 2001 was a Tuesday, a Tuesday with a funny schedule. There was an early morning assembly, so all classes were an hour later and ten minutes shorter. The assembly was a presentation made by a professional bodyguard and crisis counselor. I forget his name, but he told us stories about all the stars he'd protected, like Chris Farley and Harrison Ford. After the assembly ended, I went to my trigonometry class and from there to my study hall. I was doing my trig homework when Nitin, a guy from my writing class, asked me to edit his paper. I did, and he left me with my math. I soon finished the assignment and started doing a crossword puzzle, when Nitin came back. I thought he couldn't read the comments I'd written on his paper, but instead he said, "The World Trade Center was bombed." "Again?" I replied, mildly irritated at being interrupted, and yet amazed that 8 years after failing to cause much damage the fools were at it again. "Do you want to come watch?" Nitin asked. "No," I said. "I'll watch it later." I had no idea then how right I was. Following my study hall, I went to choir, but didn't stay there long. All of us singers were herded into the much larger band room and joined the band in huddling in the dark around a TV with fuzzy reception, but not before I put my foot in my mouth. "Happy Terrorism Day!" I greeted my fellow singers. I got one response in kind, and about 6 or 7 dirty looks. I couldn't help it. The mood was too somber and I had to break it up. Unfortunately, no one else felt the same way. After chorus, I had my writing class. But again, we were all herded to a TV to watch the news and rumors circulate endlessly. I felt no deep sadness, nothing but surprise at such magnitude of attack and frustration with everyone for freezing in place. Then I thought of my dad. My dad was appointed to a government watchdog board, to make sure that all safety measures were being considered in the construction of a storage site for nuclear waste. He traveled a lot for this board, bouncing back and forth between Las Vegas, the largest city nearest to the storage site, and Washington DC, where he would meet and argue with government officials. He was in Las Vegas today...wasn't he? I couldn't remember, but I still didn't worry. Dad never went to the Pentagon...did he? Finally, the bell rang, and I went to lunch. I sat in the courtyard and looked up at the clear blue sky. It looked so calm and lovely. I couldn't imagine that same sky filled with thick black smoke and choking dust. The closest I could come in my imagination was the pink-gray-green color of the sky just before a tornado or huge storm. But the weathermen can see those coming. There are warning sirens for those. There is no warning for planes falling from the sky. After lunch came chemistry. "Please," I said to my teacher, "please teach us something. My brain is melting from all the TV I've seen today." Bless him, he did go over balancing chemical equations, though he did turn on the TV for the last 10 minutes of class. I don't remember anything until swim practice, after school. I changed into my suit and was ready to hit the water. Some of my teammates were not, however. "Why do we have to practice?" one girl complained. "There are people dying out there." "People die every day," I snapped back. "Yeah, but not innocent ones," she retorted. I seethed, but said nothing. She didn't know anyone in New York. She just wanted to get the day off. I swam hard, trying to forget that the world had gone insane. When I finally got home, my mom confirmed that my dad was in Las Vegas, but that he wouldn't be home for a few days, until they reopened the airports. I tried to find distraction in the TV, but found that most channels had switched to disaster coverage, or had suspended programming entirely. I counted how many stations were devoted to the attacks and complained to my mom, who was not sympathetic. I couldn't understand why. We live in Iowa for God's sake! No one would ever attack here, there's nothing to hit but corn and soybean fields. I was a bitch that day, and I'm not proud of that. Let me just say that I was trying to preserve what I could of my regular life. That doesn't excuse my behavior, but it may explain it a little. I took literally the command that we continue with our lives, and I looked down on those who did not or could not. I'm sorry.