Write Now

September 11, 2001 is a tough day for a lot of folks.  It has a special meaning for me as I am a retired firefighter.  Three hundred forty-three of my brothers lost their lives that day.  The story of where I was and what I was doing will be the topic of another post someday, but not today.

September tenth I was reviewing my lesson plans at the end of the day.  It struck me that my students were only two years old when the planes went down.  How could I help them understand?  I recalled that I had spoken at a memorial service a year ago.  In my speech, I paid tribute to the families and children of the fallen firefighters.  I dug it out of my files.

The next morning, after the Pledge of Allegiance, I read it to my kids.  I wept from beginning to end.  I told them that as their teacher, I would keep them safe in my classroom.  I told them that as a firefighter, my friends and I would teach them to be safe and that we would be there for them in an emergency.  I showed them a book that had letters and pictures from children to the children of the firemen.  

I could not tell if they understand my explanation.  I gave them paper and colored pencils.  They began to write.  They began to draw.  I sat at my desk and covered my eyes with my handkerchief.  I sensed, I did not see the kids coming and going around me.  No one said a word.  

Time passed – twenty minutes or so.  I opened my eyes.  My desk was strewn with letters and pictures.  My aide took the kids to P.E.  I read the letters.  I looked at the pictures.  I wept again.  I still weep when I think of them.  I think I weep because of their loss of innocence, because of the expansive depths of their understanding, because of their compassion.

I have each of their letters and pictures.  I know exactly what I will do with them.  I will tell you next week.

Peace,

Rick