Minutes Forever Burned Into My Memory

Every generation seems to have at least one major event that has been burned into our minds exactly where we were and what we were doing when we heard the unbelievable news.

Older generations may remember what they were doing when they heard Pearl Harbor was attacked. Or where they were when they first learned JFK had been shot. For the current generation, it's how we discovered the impossible had happened on 9/11.

It was the beginning of my junior year. I was excited to be taking AM swim, which meant I was at school a full hour and half before anyone else. Wet from washing all the chlorine out of my hair, I rushed from our school pool up to the main building. It was always chilly this early in the morning and having damp hair only made it worse. Relief washed over me as I entered the warm building on the top of the hill. Though there were still minimal crowds and the start of classes was still a good 20 minutes away, I hurried to my first period, back out into the brisk morning on the other side of the main building and into one of the newer portables. I had U.S. History with one of my favorite teachers, Mr. S. He made history come to life, he made it real and entertaining. He made us feel like we were a part of it.
That morning, history would be made, in fact, little did I know it already had. Sitting at the table where I was assigned, I did my usual ritual to prepare for class. I pulled out the necessary binder and book. I even brought out some other homework to finish up before class began. The lights weren't even on yet, though Mr. S had just stepped out and another girl who sat with me, Rachel, had come in. She also got to school bright and early to secure a parking spot along the street. Only seniors and some juniors got stickers to park in the parking lots around campus. (I happened to be one, having won the parking spot lottery in which about 10 of 100+ juniors hoping for a spot were picked!) Rachel had been sitting in her car for probably about an hour or more before school started (I did this most of my sophomore year), and she had been listening to the radio when they announced that at 5:52 am (PST) the first plane had hit, and a mere 9 minutes later the second plane had crashed into the other twin tower. Rachel told me what had happened, but at the time I was only barely aware of what the twin towers were. And I couldn't believe or grasp what she was telling me. It seemed unreal and in fact I didn't really believe her when she shared it. I kept thinking it must me some hoax the radio show she was listening to had been doing. But sure enough only minute later Mr. S came back into the room and flipped the TV on and reality hit me, though I still couldn't believe what I was seeing. Time warped and though all this happened in only a few minutes, in my mind it feels like it was hours.
Impossible. How could something like that happen here? Though in history we read about times or war and conflicts, that is all it is, history. It just can't be happening here and now, in my time, in my country. My safe and secure country.
As clear as those early morning minutes still are in my mind, the rest of the day is a blur. TV screens on in every classroom, replaying the horrific images that should only be found in our nightmares. Students crying and in shock. Though we lived across the country from this terror, it hit us all as though it happened in our very own backyard. No, it happened in our front yard, a city, we thought about as glamorous and untouchable, with its tall, important buildings, and streets filled with yellow cabs. Now was buried under dust and rubble. Death was heavy in this city once teeming with life. And it was felt everywhere, from the piles of twisted metal and stone that once stood tall, to the hearts of those watching from the sunny beaches in Hawaii. A cloud had spread over the entire country now united in mourning.

That is what I remember from that tragic day 9 years ago. Do you remember where you were when the unimaginable news first broke the stillness?

Don't forget to take a moment to remember and pray today. Pray for the families who lost loved ones. Pray for the troops who are still out fighting the war that began 9 years ago. Pray for our nation as it still heals from its deep wounds.

An Awkward Return and An Awful Teacher

I think of sixth grade as the beginning of my descent into the 'unpopular crowd'. Really this is one of the first years I noticed there was a distinct line between unpopular and popular. I had gotten a taste in my 4th & 5th grade classes but I thought that was just at the different schools I attended, not universal. Actually as I got older it upset me less and less to be apart of that group. Sure it would've been nice to have more boys think I was pretty, and by high school I would've loved to be on homecoming court, but as an adult I don't feel I missed out on anything important.
This was the year I returned to the school I spent 1st-4th grade (half of 4th grade) attending. It was very awkward for me. I knew some of the kids in my class already from my earlier years, but we had not kept in touch in my absence. Instead of welcoming me back, which is what I expected particularly from one girl who had been a very close friend from 1st grade on, I was accused of 'staring' at her and told to knock it off- or else. I didn't remember staring at her, I had noticed her in my class, but I had been searching the faces of everyone, looking to see who I should remember. Apparently I had lost the good graces of all the kids I had once called friends, though I did eventually make new ones.
In addition to my threat from an old friend, my first day of 6th grade was only made worse by our first assignment. We broke up into partners and interviewed each other. Then we were to write a couple paragraphs about that person and our teacher took our pictures to add to our little introduction article. Then in the coming days we would spent a little time introducing our partner to the class. Unfortunately for me, our class had an odd number of students, and like the rotten cherry on top of sugar free, freezer burned ice cream sundae, I was partnered with Mr. W, my first ever male teacher.

(This was the photo attached with the interview, I apparently couldn't wait to throw away most of it, but I have never been one to toss pictures...even BAD ones it seems!!)

I don't have any lasting memories of the interview I did with him, but I have plenty of the year that followed. I may have decided ahead of time I would not like him, considering that traumatic first day, but he quickly proved me correct in my decision. I can't pinpoint exact reasons, but I know on more then one occasion I felt extremely uncomfortable around him. I do remember one time in particular, I was upset with some of my friends after a big fight, so upset that I felt physically ill. I went to the nurse and with little evidence other then how I said I felt- no fever- I convinced them I needed to go home. I don't remember how much of it I exaggerated, I am sure a little bit just because I couldn't stand to be in the class after such a big fight, I remember crying about it. My grandma was called and I went home with her, without having to face those particular friends for the rest of that day.
I was not so lucky the next day, my mom made me go back to school despite my protests. But my fears were pointless, whatever the issue had been, by the following day all was forgiven and forgotten, at least by most. However Mr. W was not happy with my quick recovery from my 'illness' the day before. At our first recess he held me in and asked if I had been lying the previous day about being sick. I denied it adamantly, and in truth, I hadn't felt 'well'. I remember crying tears of anger that he would question this as he hit his point, that I went home because I was upset about a fight with friends. While he was essentially correct, I didn't feel it was any of his business. It was between me and my mom, and maybe the nurse who had made the decision to allow me to go. How dare he accuse me and take away my recess when I had done nothing wrong! (And I would like to note as a parent now, I would still disagree if a teacher did this to my own child. There have been plenty of days my kids didn't feel good and the next they were back to normal, bouncing off the walls!). As far as I was concerned this teacher was the worst teacher I had ever had or would ever have! I was overjoyed by the end of the year to be leaving behind not only elementary school life, but most importantly Mr. W!

One other little memory I will never forget is from the end of the year. As I had tried to get everyone in my class to sign my yearbook, even people I didn't like, I shyly asked a boy in my class named James. And his reply was "You wish." And all the boys he had been in the group with who had already signed my yearbook just laughed and snickered as I held back tears from those 2 little words. I had never much cared for him to begin with, but I genuinely hoped to have everyone sign and not only was he refusing, but he embarrassed me, like it was wrong I should even speak to him. Yes, I was relieved when this school year was over. Just more proof that the division between the popular and unpopular was beginning!

This is the 8th post of 15 in a series I am doing to record my youth with other woman at