In Memoriam
[Editor's note] On September 11, 2001, I was learning about the superior vena cava in Health class when the world changed.
That morning, Coach Brock was teaching us an ingenious song he developed to help us remember the parts of the heart. Being musically inclined even then, I was midway through the second verse when a neighboring teacher stormed into our classroom. Panic-stricken, she was screaming for us to put on the news because one of the Twin Towers had been hit by a plane. As Coach Brock turned on our TV, we watched in horror as a second plane hit the South Tower of the World Trade Center.
From what I remember, the rest of that school day was spent glued to the news coverage. Live and unrelenting images of the Pentagon attack, of the doomed jumpers from the Towers, of the plane in Pennsylvania, and of those mighty Towers collapsing one after the other. Images that seared.
My usual lunch spot resembled the floor of the Stock Exchange that day. Kids and teachers alike scrambling to listen, to talk, and to call their relatives. Teachers were standing by their open doors-- doing their best to stay brave and keep order. Parents were standing in line around the block to pick up their children. By last period, the name of Osama bin Laden was already being said.
I was 15 years old and that night, I prayed for the first time.
However, it wasn't until a few days later-- in a makeshift classroom in our library-- that my friends and I huddled together and felt the full impact of that day. We talked through tears, through sobs, through the hugs. We rallied for each other in a way that only friends can. Feelings that seared.
But somehow, we made it through. A lot has changed since that dark day to this. For one, Coach Michael Brock died in 2003 of a heart attack. The husband, dad, teacher and coach extraordinaire passed away on the field while coaching his girl's soccer team. I graduated from high school in 2004 and have pursued quite an extensive career as a student ever since. On a larger scale, our country went to war in two countries in the name of national security--in the process adding billions to the national debt. And sadly, nine years later Ground Zero remains a construction site.
But then again, one very important thing remains the same. The friends I cried with during those days when our nation was being torn apart are still my best friends. I think we all learned to trust each other that day. We learned that the only way to face the fear and the despair is to face together. We've gotten each other through tougher personal times since then and remain ever the closer.
As the somber anniversary of 9/11 approaches, I'm reminded of the interrupted lesson Coach Brock was teaching that day: Everything in the heart is connected to make you function. And everyone's heart is connected in exactly the same way. So if everyone's heart is same, what do the other differences matter?
That morning, Coach Brock was teaching us an ingenious song he developed to help us remember the parts of the heart. Being musically inclined even then, I was midway through the second verse when a neighboring teacher stormed into our classroom. Panic-stricken, she was screaming for us to put on the news because one of the Twin Towers had been hit by a plane. As Coach Brock turned on our TV, we watched in horror as a second plane hit the South Tower of the World Trade Center. From what I remember, the rest of that school day was spent glued to the news coverage. Live and unrelenting images of the Pentagon attack, of the doomed jumpers from the Towers, of the plane in Pennsylvania, and of those mighty Towers collapsing one after the other. Images that seared.
My usual lunch spot resembled the floor of the Stock Exchange that day. Kids and teachers alike scrambling to listen, to talk, and to call their relatives. Teachers were standing by their open doors-- doing their best to stay brave and keep order. Parents were standing in line around the block to pick up their children. By last period, the name of Osama bin Laden was already being said.
I was 15 years old and that night, I prayed for the first time.
However, it wasn't until a few days later-- in a makeshift classroom in our library-- that my friends and I huddled together and felt the full impact of that day. We talked through tears, through sobs, through the hugs. We rallied for each other in a way that only friends can. Feelings that seared.
But somehow, we made it through. A lot has changed since that dark day to this. For one, Coach Michael Brock died in 2003 of a heart attack. The husband, dad, teacher and coach extraordinaire passed away on the field while coaching his girl's soccer team. I graduated from high school in 2004 and have pursued quite an extensive career as a student ever since. On a larger scale, our country went to war in two countries in the name of national security--in the process adding billions to the national debt. And sadly, nine years later Ground Zero remains a construction site.
But then again, one very important thing remains the same. The friends I cried with during those days when our nation was being torn apart are still my best friends. I think we all learned to trust each other that day. We learned that the only way to face the fear and the despair is to face together. We've gotten each other through tougher personal times since then and remain ever the closer.
As the somber anniversary of 9/11 approaches, I'm reminded of the interrupted lesson Coach Brock was teaching that day: Everything in the heart is connected to make you function. And everyone's heart is connected in exactly the same way. So if everyone's heart is same, what do the other differences matter?
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