I remember watching the towers fall from my school. I was 10 years old in 5th grade. I saw (what I think) was the first plane minutes before it hit the first tower. I finished my assigned work and started daydreaming by looking through the class windows; it was tall enough to get a good view of the sky (we were on the 5th floor as 5th graders); I was astonished at how close the airplane was, but I paid it no mind. Moments later, our class hears a loud bang at the door in the hallway, and my social studies teacher comes into my class crying to my teacher. She said that a plane hit the twin towers. My teacher started to freak out because her brother worked there. As a class we went to the hallway, to a corner window with a good view of Manhattan, and I remember seeing all the smoke and awe of my classmates and teacher. We went back to our class shortly. Then my social studies came back again, weeping, saying that a second plane hit. When the first tower hit, we all thought it was an accident, but when second one hit, we all knew something was wrong. We went back to the hallway to watch the towers fall, and I remember my social studies teacher weeping like she had lost a child.
Class was cancelled the entire day, my teacher being preoccupied over the well being of her brother. Thankfully, he survived. As the day went by, one by one each of my classmates were getting picked up by their parents. My father eventually came to pick me up in the afternoon.
It’s a day etched in my memory and one I will never forget.
