A Day of Heroes

A knock sounded at my classroom door.

“The World Trade Center has been hit by a plane.” Tears streamed down her face as she told me. I didn’t understand the big deal. A plane crash is horrendous, yes; but to cry about it? And then she told me about the second tower being hit moments later. It was then that I understood the significance. I took a deep breath and went back into my classroom to tell my 7^th grade class the news.

Ten years later, almost to the day, I find myself sitting in a different school gym with 400 middle school students ready to commemorate the memory of that day that is etched in my memory forever. My students at Franklin Academy have been talking about this day since the beginning of the year. The 7th grade team, of which I am a part, heads up the ‘We Grow Heroes’ service project that goes along with it. Even after all the meetings, I had no idea what to expect. A grabbed a tissue as they went by and was ready for what the day would bring. Or so I thought.

There is no way that my words are going to do justice of the experience. Photographs will help give you a picture of what it looked like. However, it was what I heard that repeatedly brought tears to my eyes. It began upon entering the gym to the sounds of the band playing My Country Tis of Thee. Patriotic songs have a tendency to bring tears to my eyes. Add to that the purpose of the day and men in uniform and my eyes were fuzzy in no time.

Throughout the hour-and-a-half assembly, the students sat in rapt attention and listened to each speaker as they took the microphone. Our administrator was in NYC that day. She shared a poem that she wrote for her children and others that were too young to remember or know firsthand what happened.  The school chorus sang My America and later We Are the World. Both times I dabbed my eyes.

However, the real poignant speaker of the assembly came in the form of an EMS worker from Queens. Today was the first time he told his story to anyone outside his personal social story. He told of going home that morning after working a 16-hour shift. Sleeping in his chair while the television was on. The phone began ringing. He ignored it until it wouldn’t stop. He was told of the attack and asked to go back into work. He was a shift leader. Driving in, he knew he would have to make some difficult decisions about who to send it. The first decision was telling his wife of a month, also a paramedic, to go home. From there, he told his parents to leave town for a bit. And then, the decisions were the kind nightmares are made of. Who to send in to a dangerous situation? When he arrived at Ground Zero, he was told that the four he had sent in were missing. They could not reach them. I could only sit and wonder what it must do to a person. Fortunately, his crew had escaped. From there the stories we have all heard continued. He saw a friend of his heading into the tower to find his wife. He could have stopped him not knowing if his friend’s was okay. He didn’t. The wife came out the other door. His friend was never seen again. He went to eight funerals shortly after. His story ended to a standing ovation that when on for about two minutes.

The assembly continued with a couple of more speakers and the Stephen Siller story. (Stephen Siller was the inspiration to the beginning of Heroes Day three years ago.) Students left the gym to get themselves a balloon and head to the parking lot. During our moment of silence, I couldn’t help but think about how an instant in time can change a person’s life. We were instructed to say our hero’s name aloud as we released our balloons. Without thinking I said, “Dad.” A student asked me shortly after whose name I said. She didn’t leave it there. She asked, “Why?” My dad accepts everyone for who they are. He has the patience of a saint. He is not judgmental. My dad loves me for me. (Not an easy thing to do.)

Back inside, the 7^th grade had the privilege of hearing the experiences of a soldier in the Army. He has been awarded three purple hearts, a silver star, and has been recommended for the Congressional Medal of Honor. He has served in both Iraq and Afghanistan. As the speaker talked about living in caves for 18 months with no showers or laundry service, it was Sean’s face I saw. People in the states send many care packages of fun things to our soldiers. How many of us think to send baby wipes or beef jerky or even a pair of socks to replace the ones rotting off their feet? I know I hadn’t. Until today. Each time I shop, I am going to make a conscious effort to purchase at least one item to go to a soldier living in a cave. He went on to tell about watching his best friend’s vehicle run over a land mine and go up in flames. After dragging him out of the fire, he carried him 300 meters to the field hospital. His best friend lived for two more days before dying. He told several other stories before answering questions put before him.

The afternoon brought hands-on hero training.

Students walked around the campus twice with their backpacks simulating the two miles that Stephen Siller ran with his 80 pound pack on his back.

Who knew police dogs could fly?

The fireman's fitness course.

The military training course

I give the military training course a go.

Tomorrow is the Tunnel to Towers 5K race to commemorate Stephen Stills. I will be volunteering with my girls starting at 5:30am. Tony will be running. After the race, I will be packing care packages for military personnel before heading home and taking a moment to reflect on how wonderful my life is.