Kindergarten, Preschool, Work… Where Were You? 9/11

It was an ordinary Tuesday morning. Nothing out of the ordinary…

  • I woke up after my husband left for his teaching job at as local high school.
  • Once up, I woke up my 5- and 3-year-olds for school.
  • Breakfast, teeth brushing, picking out school clothes, arguing over why you can’t wear a tutu to school, and the continual search for backpacks.

At 8:10 a.m., my 3-year-old and I walked the 5-year-old to the end of the driveway to get the schoolbus. It was her 3rd week of school. Real school. Big girl school. She boarded the bus on the first day without a backward glance at her dad, little sister, and me.

She was settled in her routine, but my 3-year-old was only on her 3rd day of school on 9/11. She was still anxious about going to school. She wanted to ride the school bus with the 5-year-old.

Quite honestly, I was having some reservations about preschool. She was so young. Many of the kids in her class were so upset about starting preschool. Many, many tears. One, maybe two, were not fully toliet trained. About 6 kids out of 15 had late summer or fall birthdays. Almost 3s are so young for the rigors of 3-year-old preschool — even if preschool only meets 2 mornings a week. The little ones were so young and quite unprepared for the structure of preschool. My daughter was in the thick of it with a late birthday.

That morning I drove my 3-year-old to preschool. The dropoff was easy. No tears. I was probably overjoyed that she walked in to the classroom without being upset. No time for me to shop, run errands, or grab coffee with friends. No, I had work to do at home.

I settled in to review galley proofs for a health book I was managing. As an at-home freelance editor, I grabbed work time whenever I could…while the oldest was in Kindergarten and the youngest in preschool, naptime/quiet time, and when the kids were in bed or my husband was at home.

On that morning, I had exactly 2 hours to get my work done before my kindergartener’s bus arrived. I didn’t stop to do the breakfast dishes, or make a bup of coffee. All I did was park myself at my desk and work…until the phone rang.

It was my sister. She asked me if I knew about the plane in NYC. I said No. She told me to turn on the TV. I didn’t turn off the TV or stop reading the newspaper for weeks.

I don’t recall the time my sister called. Maybe around 9:20 or 9:25 a.m. But, I do know that my world changed from that point onwards.

I hesistate to link up these articles in the body of this blogpost, but if you are interested I wrote:

Where were you?

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