September 11, 2001 was a very sad and scary day for mankind. It was a day of sadness and sorrow and full of hatred towards the looney tune extremist Muslims who should all die a very slow and painful death.
Anyway...the week of September 11, 2001 was within the first week of my attending a Jewish school. It was, if I remember correctly my fourth day of school (9/11 was a Tuesday and school began the Thursday before). Considering I came from a totally different type of school and upbringing I had no idea what I had gotten myself into.
In 9th grade I took Chumash with the "mainstream" girls not with my kiruv program. The class was a "skills" class and was taught by the principal of the school.
On 9/11 school began regularly, with davening first followed by Chumash. My principal came in and asked us to open our chumashim to the parsha we were working on, and class began.
About 20 minutes into class my principal gets an income call from the secretary. She leaves class for a bit, and comes back all stressed out. She tells us what had happened "Planes flew into the WTC" and sends tells us that chumash is over for the day. A fellow kiruv-program girl from my chumash class and I went up to our kiruv program's classroom and told the class what had happened. We then (new friend and I) went down to the main office and began to pester them about our schedules.
We could not comprehend what had happened, but we felt we something was not right. And while we were in the main office we were trying not to cry. While we're kvetching about our schedules MY mom calls the office to ask to speak to me, and since I was there, I was given permission and my mom was like "Don't worry we're all safe."
And of course, since my mom called, it really hit me that something REALLLY bad must of happened. So I began to panic despite the "Don't worry, we're all safe" bit. I was like "OMG! What about cousin, aunt, uncle? Did mom include them? What about friend who attends Stuyvesant?"
And I had to literally keep myself from crying.
We got what we wanted out of schedules, and on the way up to class we began to discuss how worried we were about whoever we knew that lived/worked in the city. Her dad worked there.
We had arrived to our classroom when we hear an announcement for everyone to go to the auditorium. Us Kiruv girls didn't have davening seats, so we stood in the back. The school was told the news which was followed by a heck of alot of tehillim, to which friend and I started crying hysterically.
One of the teachers saw us crying and took us into the hall and was like "why are you crying?" So she took us two down to the office to call our parents at work. I was like "I don't need to call mom, she said everything was alright, just that she didn't say about my aunt, or my friend in Stuy!" She was like "Then why are you crying?"
I dunno...people in the middle of nowhere USA who had no relatives in NYC were crying, was I not allowed to cry?
The whole day went by so slowly. I was in complete panic because during lunch I tried to call each parent like 5 times on the pay phone but I couldn't get through. I tried office numbers, cell numbers, home. Nowhere. I even began to panic since I needed to pick my sister up from Hebrew school afterwards, I wasn't sure if it were still open or not. I literally could not function in school. All I could do was focus on the terrible smell of fire coming in through the windows and try my best to avoid tears.
My super frummy friend went to school with me, and since she went to my shul and at this point I knew her a little bit, her grandfather offered me a ride home. He dropped me off infront of my sisters hebrew school, which was locked. Which meant I had to walk home those few blocks...alone.
I was sooooo scared. It was ridiculous. The entire 3 blocks it took to get home, there were atleast 5 helicopters that flew over and there were tons of burned up papers that flew in from Manhattan. When I got home mom and sister were there. Mom was watching CNN, crying and hugging my sister. Dad apparently went out by car to pick me up from school, so he came home a few minutes afterwards.
Boy did we cry, and boy did I want to stay home the following day with my family.