I was 10 years old in 5th grade at the time.
Date Submitted: 9/11/2016
I was a 5th grader at Leonardo da Vinci K-8 School in Sacramento, CA at the time of the September 11 attacks. Because of the time zone difference, the attacks occured when my parents and I were sleeping. That morning my parents woke up around 6:00 am to get ready, then around 7:00 is when they woke my older brother and I up. My brother had a TV in his room, and he would usually watch "The Magic School Bus" while he got ready for school (we both went to the same one). When he turned it on, instead of getting that show, it was news coverage of the attacks. So he called all of us in to tell us what was going on, then my parents turned on our family room television and had it on while we got ready for school. At this time, only the North World Trade Center was standing. It fell at 7:28 am our time.
When I arrived at school, for the most part it was actually a normal day throughout. The only difference was in the beginning of my class. One Tuesdays and Thursdays, our teacher always started off the day with a "Morning Prompt" question on the overhead, with varying subjects, and he would call on a few people to share out loud. For this particular Tuesday, he wrote "Why do you think other countries do such things to our country?" I don't remember what I wrote, but my classmates that shared their answers had some good ones, such as countries hate us for what we have. My parents were actually home early because both of their offices that they worked at sent their employees home during the day.
I was too young in my opinion to really take in just how much of an impact that day had on many. If I was a teen or adult, I'm sure it would've hit me harder. Now I share my particular experience exactly 15 years to the day.
Those who die innocent deaths never really die. They are everywhere; we just don't see them in quite the same way. And the culmination of what they were and what their death meant is as prevalent and tangible as the warmth in your soul and the sorrow in your heart.
Imran (story excerpt)