I remember

I think it was in one of Natalie Goldberg's books that I learned the power of writing, "I remember" quickwrites.  I've been using it as a writing strategy for years, and I thought I'd try it here on my blog because today is the anniversary of September 11, 2001.

I remember waking up that Tuesday morning and reaching for the remote control under my pillow to turn on the news (like I always do).

I remember feeling strongly that I should  NOT turn on the TV, but that instead I should pray as I got dressed. 

I remember thinking how much I'd rather watch the news but deciding to obey what my "gut" was instructing me to do.

I remember placing the remote back on the bed and going about my morning routine praying out loud.

I don't remember what I prayed.  I wish I did.

I remember grabbing all my school bags:  computer, lunch, purse and trying to get out the door while my home phone was ringing.

I remember ignoring its ring because I was running late.

I remember that from my car I dialed my home phone from my cell to check if a message was left.

I remember hearing my sister's trembling voice as if she were sitting right next to me in the passenger seat.

"Oh God, Shelia, did you hear that a plane just flew into the World Trade Center!  It's happening right now.  I'm watching it right now.  Are you on your way to school already?  Call me."

I remember the tears coming up and out of me as I tuned in to public radio during my 20 minute drive to the high school. 

I remember the choking sounds I was making by the time I pulled into my parking space.

I remember the racing thoughts in my mind and the terror in my heart as it all unfolded.

I remember wiping my eyes and pulling myself together before emerging from my car and walking across the campus and into the building and into my classroom where I headed straight for the TV.

I remember watching in horror as the news replayed the images of each plane striking the towers.

I remember my students' eyes, their emerging fear as they tried to grasp what was happening.

I remember their questions:  What does this all mean, Ms. S?

I remember setting a timer for 5 minutes and letting them watch the news in class and when the timer sounded, turning off the TV.

I remember how we each made a chart with three columns:  What did they just SAY?  What does it MEAN?  and Why does it MATTER (to us? to our nation? to the world?)

I remember interpreting the news with them, and I remember how we were so very present in the moment, allowing feelings and fears to emerge, and I remember  the intensity of our discussion as we experienced the onset of a new reality in our country.

I remember when the assistant principal walked into my room and motioned for me to meet him in the hallway, and I remember his admonishing words to me:

"What are you doing in there?  We don't want to upset the children.  I don't think you should be talking about this with them."

And I remember my response:

"This is HAPPENING RIGHT NOW as we speak!  What better place to educate HIGH SCHOOL students (and help them process their reactions to a historic event) than a school?  Excuse me, I have a class to teach."  (Said with much emotion and a hint of sarcasm.  Okay, more than a hint.)

I remember how said principal "punished" me for years for my subversive behavior until he finally left my school for another position a few years later (but that's beside the point).

I remember the exhaustion I felt at the end of the day and how I drove to my therapy appointment with immense dread and anxiety.

I remember the sobbing during that session and the fear and the panic I shared with my therapist.  I remember talking about my grandmother that day and her end of the world prophecies and how she scared the crap out of me as a kid. 

And I remember going home that night and being glued to my TV.

I remember the faces of those who survived, the horror that was reflected in their eyes as they escaped down the streets of Manhattan.

And I remember all the papers, documents of people's lives, and how nothing seemed to matter anymore.  Things that were of utmost importance moments earlier no longer seemed to have purpose.

On Sept 13th, two days later, I remember that I checked myself into the Double Tree Hotel just around the corner from my apartment. 

I don't remember why I did, exactly.  (I think I had this need to disappear or to be taken care of or something.  I know I was stuck in feelings of hopeless despair, and I know I felt so alone living 1500 miles away from my family.)

I remember that I didn't take any clothes with me other than the ones I was wearing.  I remember calling in sick that Friday from said hotel room and subsequently spending the day in bed weeping and wailing for lives lost and families that would never be the same again.

I remember the hotel fire alarm sounding at 5am the next morning and the utter chaos that ensued as the  management evacuated the rooms. Hundreds of guests ushered outside into the damp, cool hours of the morning.

I remember thinking that the world was ending right then and there as the alarms shook me from my slumber.

I remember believing, "This is it!  It's all over!"  as I was pushed and pulled with the crowd out of the hotel front doors and into the street.

I remember when the all clear was sounded, and we shuffled our ways back to our rooms that I went back to sleep for the rest of the day, thinking that nothing really mattered anymore.

I remember wondering what I was doing there alone in a room not three blocks from my apartment, questioning my own feelings of hopelessness (after all, I was relatively safe).

I remember worrying that my ability to cope with life was gone for good.

And I remember wondering if other people had similarly lost their coping abilities, or if there was something really wrong with me.

I don't remember when the despair finally lifted enough for me to get up off my ass and check myself out of that hotel and return to my home, but it did, lift a bit, and I went back to my life.

And I remember each anniversary of this day, and how my students and I mark it together discussing where they were, how old they were, and what they thought and felt about it at the time, and how it impacts them now as young adults.

Today is no different.  We are watching a 20 minute timeline of the events, listening to Alan Jackson's song, and talking about the day, not so long ago, when our country changed forever.

Download 07_where_were_you_when_the_world_stopped_turning.m4p

"Where Were You When the World Stopped Turning"  a song by Alan Jackson

*photos borrowed from http://todayspictures.slate.com/20070911/