Two Tragedies
Two different tragedies. What do we do with the kids?
It was a sunny day on November 23, 1963, and I had just returned to the classroom along with my fellow students after lunch. I lived in Bethesda, Maryland, at the time, and my elementary school classmates were the sons and daughters of members of Congress, the President’s Cabinet, and other political figures. As kids we just recognized that is what our parent or parents did, no big deal. We lived roughly seven miles from the White House and there was somewhere in our souls a political understanding, although not profound. We were just kids.
I claimed my desk in the last row, right by the window, while our teacher assembled her papers for our next lesson. Suddenly, a teacher from another classroom burst into our room crying. She grabbed my teacher by her shoulder and whispered into her ear. Then my teacher burst into tears. We students sat still awaiting an explanation. It came in the form of a PA announcement made by the principal: “The President has been shot! The President has been shot!”
We kids stayed frozen at our desks. My teacher left the classroom to join a group of teachers who were crying in the hall.
Keep in mind that we were too young to keep track of the President’s schedule. As far as we knew, the shooting took place right down the street, not in Dallas, Texas. At some point each of us hoped an adult would enter the classroom and explain what was meant by “The President has been shot,” and then would dismiss us and walk with us outside to send us on our way. This was a time in which parents were not called for a crisis.
Instead we were the audience of the theatre of the absurd as teachers ran in and out of classrooms crying and talking among themselves.
At some point, someone must have remembered that this was a school full of little people. Another PA announcement was made by the principal: “All students, class dismissed. Class dismissed. Go directly home.”
There would be no guidance, no protection from the shooter down the street, we ran out of the school and kept running home.
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Caught outside in the turmoil of running students, I had to go in the opposite direction and find my younger sister. As I pushed my way through the crowd of kids, I saw anxious faces of students, I saw students resting from running then resuming, but I saw none of the hysteria that I had seen demonstrated by the teachers. We didn’t know yet what to be hysterical about. All we knew was that we had to run home.
* * *
Mid morning, September 11, 2001, and two commercial jets purposely crashed into the Twin Towers of New York while another crashed into the Pentagon and a fourth — thanks to the heroism of the passengers — crashed into an empty field so that it could do no further damage.
News footage of that day included President Bush’s Chief of Staff, Andrew Card, whispering in the President’s ear that the second aircraft had hit the Twin Towers.
At this time, President Bush was in a second grade classroom conducting a reading session. He had been made aware of the first crash of a plane into the Towers, but had no information on its size. When Andrew Card came in to tell him of the second aircraft, the President remained calm and continued the reading session for another seven minutes. Reports later said that the President had a serious expression on his face and that some of the kids noticed. By this time, the hallways of the school must have been buzzing with the news as teachers and reporters became aware of the tragedy, so I imagine a serious look could not be helped.
President Bush has been criticized for staying in the classroom for the additional minutes instead of jumping into action(1). In addition, his demeanor in the classroom also led to conspiracy theories that he was complicit in the attacks. These theories were cobbled together by noting the US’s awareness of certain terror groups, as well as terrorist groups using commercial aircraft as weapons.
But when I see President Bush in that footage in the classroom that day, I can’t help but go back to the child I was during another tragedy and say, “thank you,” to the adult who knew how important his behavior was in a room of children.
* * *
(1 )Moore, Michael, director. Fahrenheit 9/11. Lionsgate Films, 2004.
