Remembering 9/11

I shared with my English class my memory of the day:

I heard about it on the radio while I was getting ready to get my license renewed. I told my Dad over breakfast, he didn’t believe it; he said it was a hoax.  I wasn’t the only one at the DMV to renew my license but no one minded the wait, we were all glued to the TV in the corner. My brother was still in Italy, due to fly home any day. I spent the night at my friend’s house since her husband was out of town; we were up all night watching the news and listening to everyone race to the gas station and grocery stores.  It got scary as we heard that some stores were being cleaned out and looted; the 7-11 ran out of gas.  My brother ended up getting stuck in Europe for a few extra days and when they finally flew him home, they re-routed his plane and made him take a bus home.  I started my sophomore year of college the following week and I remember wondering how many wouldn’t be there on time, or at all…

Since I require my students to journal at least three times a week, on Thursday, I asked them to respond to the prompt, “What does 9/11 mean to you?”  I knew that most of them were barely born or very young when it happened, so I was curious what they associated with the tragic event:

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