I have reposted here my experience on Sept. 11, 2001, archived at http://911digitalarchive.org/parser.php?object_id=19929.

That morning my boyfriend, a NYPD officer, dropped me off at work at P.S.11 (on West 21st Street), where I was an assistant teacher at the time. Shortly after my students got to their classroom, while I left to retrieve something from another floor, another staff member told me a plane had crashed. On my way back to my classroom, someone said, "You need to turn on the T.V." I heard someone else say "The World Trade Center is gone." I went upstairs and shared the news with the other teachers in my room.

I left the room again to call my boyfriend since no one's cell phone was working. He was awaiting my call desperately, as he was being called in to duty. He told me we were in a state of emergency, and that I should try to make it to my mother's place in Spanish Harlem and not come home. He promised to call me. I told him I was to remain at school until all the parents came and that my kids were still unaware of the news. Parents began streaming in, tears falling from their eyes as they tightly hugged their small children and took them home. The children in my special education class sensed our anxiety and sadness and began to ply us with questions. What was happening? Why were the parents coming so early? Was it a half-day? I simply said the train was out of service, which was true, because I didn't want to frighten the kids.