The day started out like any other. Talk to a few friends in the hallways and the off to class for the usual business. Today was the day to have an essay done for our history class. I had completed mine and gave it in a timely manner.
A few minutes later, there was a telephone call to the classroom. Mr. Clough (the teacher) seemed to appear a bit uneased after being on the telephone. I didn't know what until he had turned on the television.
A fiery hole lie in the World Trade Center's second building. Within moments of the television's light invading the room, a second plane struck the towers. Absolute horror filled the room, with one exception, an either idiotic or truly hateful student thought the explosion was "sweet." I never found out who it was, and quite frankly, I'm glad I didn't, because I would have personally liked to teach him a history lesson he wouldn't soon forget.
Being the political junkie that I am (and was at the time two years ago) Mr. Clough had asked the class on who they thought had done this. I was the only person in the room to respond that didn't say "Saddam Hussein" simply because that was the first Arab terrorist/sponsor that had come to their minds.
The name I gave was "Osama bin Laden." Most of the class had been unfamiliar with that name, but they'd come to know it eventually. By the time this was done, reports were in about another plane that struck the Pentagon.
Class ended and I left the room with a great swiftness, hoping to get to the next class to immediately pick up where the news had left off. The history class I was in was watching FOX News, the one I had entered (a keyboarding class, which I only took for the credits toward graduation) had been watching CBS.
The rest of the class, interestingly, continued on their work with seemingly little care about what was going on. I and the other teachers in the upstairs area gathered around the television set to watch the next 90 minutes unfold. The towers collapsed.
90 minutes passed and I was dismissed to my third class, Cisco Networking. The television was back on FOX News and pretty much all of the class (there was about 10 of us) kept an eye on the news and tried to get news from the Internet. 90 minutes passed again and I was off to lunch.
My mother works at the high school, and I was able to fill her in with all of the details that she didn't get (as the lunch office has no television.) Three crashes, as I understand, had only been heard of so far. After quickly scarfing down a hamburger, it was off to my fourth and final class - English.
The English teacher, who was generally nice, said she couldn't get the cable to work in the room. I suggested that I could hook it up, and did...but, perhaps what she intended to say was to politely decline keeping up on the events of that day. 90 minutes of intellectual hell soon followed, as one could not help but wonder, what in God's name was going on?
2:50 struck and I was free to get on board the bus for home. Within 20 minutes I was back at home, news on, and watched the news for about 24 straight hours from then on.
And, in short, that was my September 11th, 2001.