9/11: 20 Years Later
Downtown teacher recalls the lessons of 9/11
BY LAURA DEINNOCENTIIS
It’s hard to believe the attacks on
the World Trade Center happened
20 years ago. Having witnessed the
devastation of 9/11, memories resurface
as if they occurred yesterday. The sound
of a low fl ying plane, a particular smell,
or a specifi c location can still trigger a
trauma response. Yet, the tragic events
of that day changed the trajectory of my
life for the better. This was the beginning
of my interest in post-traumatic
growth, the phenomenon of positive
change experienced as a result of a lifealtering
crisis.
It was the fi rst day of school for many
children — a beautiful morning, not a
cloud in the blue sky. My co-teacher, Robert,
and I had just fi nished adding fresh
paint to the easel and waited excitedly for
our students to arrive. Suddenly, we heard
the deafening roar of a plane overhead,
approaching with such force and speed
that the vibration knocked heavy gallon
jugs of glue from the table and sent books
tumbling off the shelves. Then, there was
a thunderous crash — shattering glass,
screeching metal — followed by an eerie
silence.
We ran outside to investigate and were
shocked to see a huge fi ery hole in the
North Tower of the World Trade Center.
Everything on the typically busy streets of
lower Manhattan stopped except for the
police cars and fi re trucks speeding toward
it. People stood, stunned. We returned
to work with heavy hearts, prepared to
comfort the 3- and 4-year-olds when they
entered the classroom.
The children greeted us with smiles.
Some spoke of the loud “boom,” but no one
dwelled on it. They wanted to get busy with
puzzles, blocks and paint. Parents were
shaken; they had loved ones who worked
in the Towers. Our job was to engage the
children and keep things as calm as possible.
By 9 a.m., only 3 of our students had
arrived. While Robert read them a book, I
walked one of the mothers to the door. She
was worried about her older son who had
started kindergarten at a school only a few
blocks away. Outside, people gathered on
Church Street to get a view of the North
Tower.
As we watched the black smoke billow
through the sky and reams of offi ce paper
fl y from the windows, the second plane
struck the South Tower. People panicked
and suddenly we were caught in a stampede.
I rushed back inside the school to
inform everyone of the second crash and
we began the evacuation process. Parents
nervously swooped up their children and
headed away from the burning buildings.
Robert and I had one student without a parent–
the mom who left to check on her son.
We tried calling her but the phone lines
were busy, so we left a note on the door
and headed north to the family’s apartment.
Luckily, she met us on the street halfway
between school and home.
Our school remained closed until it was
deemed safe to return to the neighborhood.
Only those who lived or worked below
Canal Street were allowed to enter with
written permission. Armed guards roamed
the streets and policed the subway stations,
but downtown Manhattan still didn’t feel
safe. Fires continued to burn. Debris littered
the ground. Dust coated cars and
buildings. People were dazed. A strange
smell lingered in the air — an indescribable,
sickening odor that will forever conjure
memories of planes crashing, people
jumping, and buildings imploding. Walking
south on Church Street, I couldn’t take my
eyes off of the gaping hole in the skyline.
The Twin Towers were gone!
When the children returned to school,
they craved order and consistency. They
needed a safe place to play and express their
feelings about what had happened. Some
experienced the tragedy fi rst-hand. Others
were fortunate to leave the city after the
second plane hit. Whether they witnessed
the attacks directly or indirectly, everyone
was vulnerable. Parents could not shield
their children from the horror of 9/11,
especially those who lived in the area surrounding
Ground Zero. Their world had
been turned upside down. Many families
were forced to leave their homes and live
in hotels. Children weren’t allowed to play
outside in the local parks. Some never had a
chance to say goodbye to their friends who
escaped the city that morning and never
returned.
Miraculously, no one from our school
perished in the Sept. 11 attacks.
For weeks after the tragedy, the children
spoke of bad guys, fi reballs, crashing
planes, and explosions. They knew something
terrible had happened and needed
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our help to process it. They had many
questions: “Why did the bad guys want to
hurt everybody?” “How did the buildings
disappear?” “Will the planes come back?”
We answered their questions simply and
honestly. We acknowledged the event and
reassured them that it was over. The streets
were fi lled with police offi cers, fi refi ghters
and EMS workers, and we explained that
they were doing everything possible to
protect them.
Families turned to me for support and
guidance. They wanted the comfort of
knowing that their children, who quite
possibly could have perished weeks earlier,
were protected at school and asked how
they could offer the same at home. It was
important for parents to understand that
while protection and reassurance could not
be guaranteed, anxiety around life’s uncertainties
could be diminished by establishing
a mentality that included acceptance,
mindfulness, and hope.
Victor Frankl, philosopher, Holocaust
survivor, and the author of Man’s Search
for Meaning said, “When we are no longer
able to change a situation, we are challenged
to change ourselves.” The series of
events that unfolded in the aftermath of
9/11 fueled my desire to understand more
about resilience in the face of adversity. I
recognized that witnessing the terrorist
attacks led me to examine myself, connect
with others, and appreciate life in ways I
never had before. Not only did my capacity
for growth help me to adapt to the
situation, it led to wonderful, unforeseen
possibilities in the future.
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