Twenty-two years ago, there were things I hadn’t experienced yet. At 45, I hadn’t yet celebrated the first birthday of my 1 month old grandchild. I hadn’t harvested the 12th crop of raisins from our Thompson Seedless vineyard. I hadn’t finished my 5th year of teaching 3rd Grade in Room 20. I hadn’t experienced an all-out attack on the country I love so much. I was just a young teacher driving across the countryside to work another day.
I’d just become an empty nester with two sons serving in the United States Air Force. One would just be leaving the gates of an East Coast base for reassignment to a west coast base. The other son was translating information from bad guys while eavesdropping high above the clouds over England. My sons were grown men on their own. My full attention focused on 20 high-energy 8-year-old’s who loved their teacher, Mrs. Hurt.
Although I was a seasoned traveler, I’d never traveled to New York. It never appealed to someone like me. A concrete jungle is too confining. This country girl needed wide open spaces, often feeling claustrophobic by the miles and miles of perfectly groomed vineyards. New York might as well have been the wilds of Tanzania or Zimbabwe. To this very day, I’ve never visited and have no desire to change that.
The morning of 9/11/2001, I was “Any American Teacher”. Papers in – Papers out. Corrected assignments in the roller cart in the trunk of my car. Black line master’s for the new assignments ready to copy. Just one last thing to do. Kiss VST goodbye for the day and head out to get my XL Diet Coke at the 76 station. Same routine every day. Rain or shine. Bloom or harvest. Just another normal day.
I loved my morning soda stop. The owner of the store happened to be of Middle-Eastern descent. Never gave it much thought. Thought about it a lot in the days to follow.
“Hey, Meez Hurt! Ready to teach today?” He’d always have a nice greeting for me. I’d just grab the soda, run.
On this morning, he was watching his TV screen.
“What’s up? Hot news?”
I saw the initial smoke from the sky-scrapers. Didn’t look too exciting. Something in New York. But, wasn’t there ALWAYS something in New York? The news said a small plane had hit the World Trade Center. Ahh, how sad for the families involved. I wished him well and went on my way.
Along the way, the radio filled me in on how the world had just changed in an instant. Arriving at school, I wasn’t the same Mrs. Hurt that’d just left the safety of the ranch. In an instant, I was the mom of two Airmen. I was the daughter of parents that had just flown across the Atlantic while returning from a golden anniversary trip to Europe. I was the grandmother of a little baby that would live his entire life in a world changed in horrific ways.
20 kids would enter Room 20 at 7:45 am. 20 kids would need answers and 7.5 hours of love and care from one traumatized teacher that just needed a minute to scream, “WHY????”
9/11/2001.
The teachers all wore dark glasses to hide our shock and tears that day. We took turns cramming around the secretary’s desk to watch the coverage, while making sure the kids outside had yard duty teachers to watch over them. We tried to carry on as we would on any regular school day. That’s what you do when you’re in charge of littles. No matter what, count heads and keep going.
Children figure things out. One child knew. Then another. Then another. Finally, with little eyes focused on one very scared teacher, we sat on the carpet in a big circle and talked about what had just happened. They asked questions. I told them I really didn’t know, because teachers certainly don’t know everything on a day like that. They cried a little bit. So did I. And then, we brainstormed.
One child had a brilliant idea. Could they write letters and draw pictures for the nurses and doctors in New York? What about the firemen? And policeman? Could they watercolor?
“Mrs. Hurt, we don’t know how to write a letter! Can you help us? “
“How do you spell doctor?”
“Where is New York City?”
“Are the bad people coming here?”
So many lessons were covered that day. The geography of the United States of America. Art. Kindness. Love. Support. Penmanship. Spelling. Grammar. As a family 3rd Graders, we were a class on a mission. Together, we clawed our way through the first day of a new way of life. The blue-sky, happy-go-luckiness of before was gone forever more.
Years, later, in 2014, I went to my last 9/11 remembrance at PELCO in Clovis, California. PELCO was one of the companies supplying surveillance cameras in the World Trade Center. Throughout the horrific order, the employees had maintained a special relationship with their friends in New York and held a yearly service that was something to experience. A block of land in the California parking lot had been deeded to New York. A piece of beam from the World Trade Center rests in a small museum there. Family born of blood.
After the ceremony, I was getting ready to leave when someone tapped me on the shoulder. As I turned, two young adults stood before me. I couldn’t place them at first.
“Mrs. Hurt. It’s you!”
“Hi there! I am so sorry. It’s been a morning and a few years have passed. You’re going to need to help me out.”
As quick as anything, the young woman shared a memory and code that only a member of Room 20 would know. And then, she smiled. It’s always in the smile. Just like that, my heart remembered her. My little student from long ago. My Allegra.
“Thank you, Mrs. Hurt. You were there for us. You kept us safe that day.” 13 years later, it was she that comforted her teacher. We both cried as we held each other tight. Just like that, we tumbled back in time to the horrible day we tried to make things better with crayons, paint, and a lesson in letter writing.
So much lost and so much found on September 11.
Whatever you do today, REMEMBER. Sit for a moment. THINK. Find one thing you could make better today and ACT. Each 9/11, I give one gift to a place it will do the most good. Say Hello to someone that looks down. Help a neighbor that needs it. Call a lonely friend. Do something really good, on a day that, long ago, was really bad. Please, just REMEMBER. Never, ever, ever forget. But then, how could anyone forget what we lost that day?
A quick note. If you have not heard of Gander, Newfoundland and the miracle that occurred there on 9/11 learn about it. TODAY. There is a wonderful play online. Come From Away. Read the back story about the 30+ jumbo jets that had to land in on an airstrip, emptying all their passengers into a town of 6,000+. Learn about it and the love shared by strangers. It will change you in a good way.
More tomorrow.