Ten years ago today, I was startled awake when my roommate's mother called to warn us that we were being bombed. I had a view of the Chicago skyline from my room, so I looked out the window and saw nothing out of the ordinary. So, I did what any normal collegiate would do at that hour: I went back to sleep.
I remember sitting around the television with the girls on my floor in complete disbelief as we watched the reports come in. I can still hear our collective gasps as we watched the second tower get it, the reports came in from the Pentagon and Flight 93, and as the towers, one by one, collapsed before our eyes. I wanted it to be a bad dream, a movie gone wrong like War of the Worlds.
Ten years later, I still remember the events and emotions of this day like it happened yesterday. I struggle each year with trying to relay the magnitude of this day to my students who have little or no concept of the day's events much less it's significance. It's mind-boggling to me when they dismiss it and ask why they have to learn about it again when I can't tear myself away from the documentaries, year after year.
My thoughts are with the thousands of people to were affected that day. And my thanks are with the first responders who show their bravery and selflessness in the face of danger.
I will never forget.