<p>JFK - In Middle School, a principal’s loudspeaker announcement closed the school, which was predominantly African-American. Hallways filled with students, dissolved in tears. I wasn’t used to seeing the boys cry. All of us fairly staggered home. I arrived expecting an empty house, by my parents had closed their office to be home instead. My mom was crying on the bed, watching TV and I curled up with her.</p>
<p>MLK, later that evennig - As a h.s. senior in Baltimore, I had volunteered to work lighting for a theater production at Johns Hopkins U.'s uptown campus. Since nobody called to cancel the show, I went in and began to work the lighting panel. Ten minutes into the show, a Baltimore City policeman walked onto the stage, closing the show without explanation, and sending all home. (I knew he wasn’t in the show.) I turned up the house lights until the audience had all evacuated, then drove home alone. The car radio informed that there were riots and fires breaking out downtown, including on the street of my grandfather’s store. When I got home, I burst into tears to see him safe in our living room.</p>
<p>9/11 - teaching First Grade, reading a library book to children exactly in the same position as President Bush (!). A representative from the school office tapped me on the shoulder to read a clipboard text from the Superintendent, describing “an emergency and plane crash” in NYC and Washington. Strict instructions not to speak of this all day in hallways, lest children overhear. On my break at 11:00 a.m., I left the building to use my cellphone and call my husband for a real explanation. We teachers did not engage in any adult conversation, just kept teaching, which was stressful to repress any thoughts.</p>
<p>I recall boarding these innocent students on buses at 4 p.m., looking up at that blue blue sky (we were 90 miles from NYC) and thinking, “These children’s world will never be the same.” At 4 p.m. I was free to go home and comfort my own children. One had spent the day with classmates, holding onto his shaking classmate whose Dad worked at the WTC, unheard from. By grace of God, the man was one who walked out of the building with only a broken foot, but the wife an son didn’t know that for many hours. The next day, my son refused to eat toaster waffles because the pattern reminded him of the windows on the WTC, and was scared to go to school by bus, so I drove him in on my way to my school.</p>
<p>(I thought I’d write briefly, but this was cathartic. Thanks for the thread.)</p>