9/11 Reflections: Kathleen Schongar, Albany

Walking into work I noticed the bright, clear blue sky, and the sun reflecting off the airliner that flew overhead. It was a perfect, crisp September morning. An hour later, the receptionist reported that a plane just hit the Trade Center . A sad accident, I thought, on my way to a meeting. A colleague joined us who had seen another plane hit the second tower intentionally. It was almost too much to comprehend.

Only when I returned to school, did I realize the life-altering magnitude of the events unfolding before us. This unprecedented attack on American soil disrupted our belief systems on so many levels. Innocence was forever lost. The Pentagon was in flames. The towers crumbled as we watched in stunned silence. When Flight 93 fell, a Pennsylvania field became holy ground.

Still, we had special-needs students to tend to. Classes were held. Families were notified. We kept our youngsters busy and calm, maintaining our professional composure until the last child was safely home.

Then the phone calls began. My brother, a state worker, was not in New York City . My cousin and her husband were in Manhattan . Twenty-four hours later I confirmed that they and their young daughter were safe. After finding one another amid the chaos, they had walked to their home in New Jersey. My friend’s son was not in his burning Pentagon office that morning. We were the lucky ones. Our loved ones were safe.

It seemed almost wrong to be relieved; so many families were destroyed that day. So many innocent lives lost, just doing their jobs. No one was untouched by 9/11. Everyone knew someone who was there, or who had by a twist of fate, missed a train or a subway. So many unsung heroes emerged rushing to help. It was simply too sad for words. As the flag rose above ground zero, the nation wept in unison.

Raising my flag, I thought of another iconic date: December 7, 1941. That was our parents’ moment. This was ours. How would we respond?

Our students sent pictures and letters to students in New York City they did not know. It was a labor of love, a lesson in kindness and healing. A decade later, on crisp autumn mornings, when a plane soars overhead, I remember the heroes of 9/11 and their families. I pray for peace.
— Submitted by Kathleen Schongar, Albany

Categories: 9/11 Reflections
Michael Huber

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