I was teaching on 9/11. No lesson plan could’ve prepared me.
The morning of Sept. 11, 2001, began like so many others before it. I was teaching fourth grade at Warren T. Jackson Elementary in northwest Atlanta. A small K-5 elementary school nestled in the woods on Mt. Paran Road near Chastain Park.
My students had gone to what we called “specials,” classes like art, music or PE. I don’t remember which class they were in, but I do remember the teacher from across the hall suddenly appearing in my doorway. It took me a second to understand why she was there.
Did I know we were at war, she asked. We? A real war? A metaphorical war? “At war” as in “fighting with” someone?
A plane hit the World Trade Center in New York, she said. It still didn’t make sense. We went to the media center to find a TV (streaming wasn’t a thing yet) and watched the network news. Footage of the planes hitting the twin towers ran on a loop, but not much else was known.
My principal came around to each classroom. We needed to tell our students what happened, she said. There were still so many unanswered questions. Who did this? Why? How many people were killed? Why?
I’m sure my response to the events of that day would’ve been different had I been with family or friends or by myself. There probably would’ve been some cursing, expressed anger and disbelief. But when you’re in charge of a classroom of kids, you’re not really processing your own emotions. You’re trying to figure out how to keep things on track, how to provide guidance and comfort without dissolving into a puddle, all while not knowing the full scope of the tragedy.
When my students returned to class, I sat them down on a rug at the back of my classroom. I sat in a chair in front of them, a posture I usually took when I was giving them directions or discussing a project. Somehow, I told them what happened. I don’t remember how I began or the details of what I told them. I definitely hadn’t included “Explain why the U.S. was attacked by terrorists” in my lesson plans for that day.
I think I began with an overview of what was known and let my students ask questions. I don’t recall what they asked, just that the mood had shifted. Bustling with energy when they arrived at school in the morning, these 9- and 10-year-olds were now quiet and somber. They were old enough to understand that something in the world had changed.
Looking back, I’m not sure how we carried on with the regular school day, but we did. Some parents came to pick up their kids. Several had family in New York. The chaos in the aftermath of the attack made it hard to track people down. Smartphones didn’t exist, and cell service was limited. It was a different time.
That was especially true when it came to school security. It had been just two years since the shooting at Columbine High School in Colorado, and while that sent shock waves through schools across the country, security measures hadn’t caught up yet. There were no districtwide safety systems or cameras. No active shooter drills. Our school doors weren’t locked during the day. Visitors could come through the main entrance without needing to identify themselves. They were supposed to stop by the front office and sign in, but some didn’t. There were no security badges. No teacher IDs. Parents volunteered at the school during the day and came in and out of classrooms without nametags. It was a different time.
Now, when I visit schools as an education reporter, I have to request access to the building when I arrive, even though the school is almost always expecting me. I usually have to scan my ID, which is checked against a database. Most high schools have weapons detection systems. Teachers wear badges with crisis alert buttons they can press for help in case of an emergency or dangerous situation. School districts spend millions of dollars a year on safety measures, including armed officers, metal detectors and camera systems. It’s a different time.
Of course, the world was bound to change in 25 years. A quarter of a century is a long time.
As I look back and try to remember the details of that day, many of them are fuzzy. But one thing that does stand out is that we all gave each other grace. Teachers, students, parents, administrators. In a world that had just been stripped of its safety, we were bonded by our humanity. That silver lining around the darkest of clouds gave us a little bit of hope and enough courage to help us move forward.