Remembering September 11: Where Were You?

There are some days you remember.

And then there are days you can still feel.

September 11, 2001, is one of those days for me.

Every year when September 11 comes around, I think of Alan Jackson’s song “Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning).” And every year, the answer comes back immediately.

Twenty-five years later, I still remember exactly where I was.

I was in a classroom teaching.

I was a young student teacher in Lawrence, Kansas, sitting in a middle school science classroom when the world changed. I remember standing in front of those students, trying to understand something that seemed impossible to understand. I remember the confusion, the uncertainty, and the realization that we were witnessing a moment that would forever be part of our nation's history.

I think about those students often. I think about how much changed that morning, not just for them, but for all of us.

As an educator, you are supposed to be the adult in the room. You're supposed to reassure your students. You're supposed to have answers.

That morning, I didn't have any.

I felt completely helpless.

We watched the events unfold on television, and there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop what was happening. I couldn't make sense of it for myself, much less explain it to a room full of children.

Shock.

Disbelief.

Sadness.

Fear.

Anger.

Heartbreak.

Those are the feelings I remember most from those first hours.

Over the years, I have had the opportunity to visit the 9/11 Memorial twice. Both times, I thought I was prepared for what I would feel there. I wasn't.  

As I walked through the memorial and looked at the faces and stories of the nearly 3,000 people who lost their lives that day, every emotion came rushing back. I felt overwhelmed. I felt heartbroken. I felt angry. I felt deeply saddened by the tremendous loss and the pain carried by so many families.

And I cried quietly.

Standing there made September 11 feel less like a historical event and more like thousands of individual stories. Mothers and fathers. Sons and daughters. Husbands and wives. Friends, coworkers, neighbors, and loved ones whose lives ended far too soon.

I wish September 11 had never happened. I wish thousands of families had never experienced the loss they did. I wish those students sitting in that middle school classroom had never needed to learn that the world could change so dramatically in a matter of minutes.

But I also wish we remembered a little more of what happened in the days that followed.

The kindness.

The compassion.

The patriotism.

The willingness to help a stranger.

The feeling that, despite our differences, we belonged to one another.

In the midst of unimaginable tragedy, we watched first responders move toward danger with extraordinary courage and an unwavering commitment to serving others. We heard stories of strangers helping strangers. People opened their homes, donated blood, searched for loved ones, prayed together, and supported people they had never met.

Maybe remembering September 11 isn't only about remembering where we were when the world stopped turning.

Maybe it's also about remembering who we became afterward.

Today, I still think about that young student teacher in Kansas trying to make sense of the unimaginable. I think about the lives that were lost, the families forever changed, the survivors who continue to carry the memories of that day, and the heroes who answered the call when others needed them most.

And I think about an America that, in one of its darkest moments, somehow found a way to come together.

September 11, 2001.

I remember where I was.

I remember how I felt.

And I will never forget.

Today, we remember those we lost, honor those whose lives were forever changed, and reflect on the strength, courage, and compassion that emerged from the tragedy.

Where were you that day?

— Amber Lea
Real Estate + Real Life (and Me)