She was Right

I was a freshman in high school in Newtown, Connecticut, a town barely two hours from New York City.  I was sitting in my freshman biology class when another teacher knocked on the door. I don't know how the news started to spread. This was before the age of smart phones or Apple watches beeping updates by the minute. My teacher came back in, said nothing, and turned on the classroom TV just as the second tower was being hit. We thought it was a movie, something they were playing for some reason before we could start comprehending what that reason was. Our teacher had no words for us. Not a single one.  The bell rang soon after and we all shuffled silently to our next class, unsure of what we had just seen. We walked into math class and the TV was on in there. I remember our teacher, a woman close to 80 years old, saying that this was Pearl Harbor again. She turned the TV off and tried to get us to learn about fractions or binomials, I don't remember,  but after about 5 minutes, gave up. This was when we started to notice that kids were pulled from classes. Some were sent to the front office to call their parents one by one, some were removed by another parent. Days later we would learn of those that lost family, we learned of some that had family trapped in the city for days without contact, brought back from the dead in their minds when they returned home, filthy and terrified.

While news outlets were scrambling to try and understand what happened, my math teacher was quiet. She slowly reflected on her memories of Pearl Harbor.

While others speculated, she was absolutely sure in her belief that what happened was not an accident, but a moment in time that would change the course of history.

She was right.

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