Guest contribution by Shirien D.

I was a freshman in high school—in first period art class—when it happened. Half way through, Alan, a kid in my class, received a text and told everyone that the Japanese had attacked us. We didn’t take him seriously, particularly because Alan had a reputation for being the class clown. I brushed it off.

In second period, I was in honors biology class. Our teacher, Ms. O’Donnell, explained to us what happened. “They attacked New York,” she said, in a voice that was calm on the surface but had worrying undertones. She proceeded to roll out a TV and turn on the news. As we watched, one of the twin towers collapsed. All of us were completely in shock, sitting wide-eyed in silence. Finally, a student raised her hand and broke the silence.

“Who did this? I heard it was the Japanese. Are they trying to get back at us for bombing them all these years later?”

Yup, that was the rumor at my school.

“Hun, I don’t know who did this. I wish I knew,” Ms. O’Donnell replied. Ms. O’Donnell was the teacher who we always looked to for all the answers, but this time she didn’t have any. No one did. We were all afraid and although she tried her best to hide her emotions, so was she.

During third period English, we would hear the intercom go off every five minutes or so, calling down students whose parents were waiting for them at the principal’s office, ready to take them home.

By fourth period lunch, the school was half empty. The cafeteria was eerily quiet.

By fifth period physical education class, everyone was so consumed with fear that we weren’t allowed to go outside for our usual soccer activities. My P.E. teacher warned, “Chicago might be next. We have to play it safe, guys.” And somehow, that meant our small, southwest suburban school about forty minutes from Chicago might get attacked along with the Sears Tower. [Read more...]