Remembering 9/11

On one hand, it is hard to believe that Sunday marked 15 years since 9/11 -- September 11, 2001; time really does fly. On the other hand, it seems like a lifetime ago; so many things have changed in our culture since.

It is important that we share this American history with the younger generation. When we do, we just might be surprised at what they share with us in response. School in New York doesn't start until after Labor Day, so as a teacher on Sept. 11, 2012, just a few days into the school year, I was strongly moved by a student's comments as our class discussed 9/11. His words revealed both his character and his heart. Later that day, I wrote the following:

"Of all the years since 2001 that I've discussed 9/11 in my classes, today's comment by a student may have struck me the strongest. He contemplatively told the class, 'I feel like I can't breathe. The people who knew they were about to die ... the regrets as their lives flashed before them ... they had to have regrets. Then the people who made it out, like the man who went downstairs for coffee ... and they just had to say, "Thank God."' It was something to watch him as he put his thoughts together into words. Out of the mouths of seventh graders."

Every year, the nation reflects on that day, and many of us relive our own experiences -- how we found out, where we were when we found out, our reaction when we found out. I, too, remember those details. Fifteen years later, and I still remember. I will never forget.

My recollection below was first published at Breitbart.com:

September 11, 2001, is cemented in my memory in the way that defining moments inhabit our lives and remain. I had just finished teaching one of my seventh grade English Language Arts classes in Hudson, New York, and was walking down the hallway in between classes. A colleague approached and told me a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center.

As with all tragedies, I felt a sense of "how sad," but I didn't get it -- not at all. It was only when news came that a second plane had hit the other Tower that I knew this was no ordinary accident. As information unfolded, the horror descended, and I joined co-workers in the computer lab, where live -- unspeakable -- footage played out.

Hudson is about two hours from New York City, but all my family lives in the City. So close to the chaos, I was, yet so far -- so far from my family, with only the hope of hearing a voice to let me know they were well. Concern gripped me, as the phone lines were jacked up and calls could not get through.

We, as teachers, were neither sure how much students could understand nor how much we should share; we just got through the day. Later, when I turned on the television at home, the nonstop coverage held me captive. The footage of the buildings' collapse was like something out of a sci-fi film. This couldn't be happening to us.

Because my brain is wired to digest specifics, to envision what goes on behind the scenes, images engulfed my mind and ripped at my heart -- the people in the buildings, the pain. For the first time in my life, the sound of a plane overhead was not just the sound of a plane. To this day, it is not. To this day, that sound stirs up a certain feeling. I wouldn't call it outright fear, but it certainly is caution.

I'm a New Yorker. I was born in New York City and spent my life there and in Long Island until I moved Upstate after college. I am, of course, also an American. I had never before considered that that combination made me a target. It was eye-opening, but it also evoked pride. Like many New Yorkers, I purchased flags -- the kind that attach to car windows -- and I flew those flags proudly, watching them wave in concert with other flags on other cars. A piece of my heart died on 9/11, but, as strange as it is, something inside also came alive.

May we never forget 9/11, and may we never allow it again.

Please share your memories of that day in the comments section.

Adrienne Ross is an author, speaker, columnist, editor, educator and Southeast Missourian editorial board member. Reach her at aross@semissourian.com.