9/11 by Cathy Horn

September 11, 2001 dawned with a glorious royal blue sky without a single cloud to soften the brilliance. Typical of early fall in southern New England, the temperature was comfortably warm while the humidity level was low. A picture-perfect day. The addition of a slight breeze was enough to convince one that summer was hanging on and all was right with the world. 

"Twin Towers, New York" by Guillaume Cattiaux is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0

School was back in session; it was the first full week of the new year ripe with the promise of new learning and new friends. As the School Psychologist assigned to two elementary schools in Greenwich, Cos Cob and New Lebanon, my job was to support the psychological well-being of close to 700 children between the ages of four and a half and twelve. 

I was working at ‘New Leb’ that morning, arranging my schedule, meeting new students, and comforting the few reticent 4 & 5-year old kindergarten children who missed their mommies and daddies. 

 The first plane hit the North Tower of the World Trade Center at 8:46 A.M. I stepped out of my office into the hall when a teacher approached me and said, “Did you hear? A plane hit the World Trade Center!”

“What?” was the only thing I said, I think, not because I didn’t hear her but because I didn’t understand.

“Oh my God! The Twin Towers!” another staff member said. 

I escorted them into to the main office, before any students could hear what was being said, where Connie, the principal and Sarah, the assistant principal could most likely be found. They were both standing near the desks of Susan and Rita, the school secretaries, who were trying to listen to a staticky radio announcer who was reporting something incomprehensible. “Plane.” “North Tower.” “Explosion.” “Fire.” Oh my God, I thought, it must have been a tragic accident. 

 Connie called for a television set which was wheeled in on a cart by someone from the Media Center staff. By the time the set was turned on and tuned in, the second plane hit the South Tower. It was 9:03 A.M. only 17 minutes after the first plane struck. We watched in disbelief as the news station reran the footage on a loop over and over again. I wished I hadn’t seen it. Something seen cannot be unseen. 

 All at once we knew, along with the rest of the world, that this was not an accident. New York City was under attack. And we were only 30 miles/40 minutes away. 

At first, no one in the office said anything. A school’s main office is normally abuzz with noise and activity; the hum of the copier, teacher’s greetings to the staff and each other as they check their mailboxes, and pairs of children bringing the attendance folders to the secretaries. But right here, right now, this morning was marked by stark silence. No one knew what to say. No one knew what to do. 

Next, phones started ringing and parents began arriving at school to bring their children home – many of them expressing fear that we were at war or that the world was coming to an end.

I had always established and maintained clear and specific boundaries – my life as a wife and mother separate and apart from my work as a School Psychologist. But, the two worlds collided that morning as I struggled to remain at school when I wanted more than anything to be one of those moms picking up her children and bringing them home. I knew that my daughter and son were both safe at their schools, so I stayed at mine to do my job, all the while wondering if my brother-in-law, who worked in Manhattan, was safe. 

9:59 2 WTC (South Tower) collapsed to the ground. 

Mobilizing our school crisis team, a standing group consisting of the principal, assistant principal, school psychologist, social worker, school nurse and at least one teacher, the first few minutes of that first meeting was to determine next steps. At that point, I do not recall getting any direction or guidance from “Havemeyer” (central level administrators) since they were getting the information in real time, just as we were. So, we wondered aloud: Did any teachers or staff members have a spouse or relative who worked in Manhattan? We didn’t think so. Did any students have a parent or relative in the city? Again, we didn’t think so, but we couldn’t be certain. We were all in agreement that we needed to notify teachers of the events unfolding in the city immediately, without causing panic, so I drafted a script for us to share with each teacher individually, in writing (so that there was no risk of a student overhearing), in person, that read something like this: 

 Remain calm. Two planes have hit the twin towers. It doesn’t appear to be an accident. If you need to call someone, we will cover your class. We will update you as more information becomes available. 

 Once we were sure the teacher or staff member was okay, we moved onto the next classroom until everyone was informed. Connie approved the early dismissal of students as long as a parent came in person and signed them out. Until we had more information the expectation was business as usual so that the students were not alarmed. 

10:28 1 WTC (North Tower) fell. 

 We drafted a letter to parents and urged them to prohibit children from watching the attacks on television that could potentially result in anxiety, depression, or even post-traumatic stress disorder. We suggested that they reassure their children that they were safe at home and at school. We let them know that we were all in this together and we would support them in whatever ways they needed. 

Back home with my husband and our own two children, we did our best to assure them that they were safe when we really had no idea. I didn’t want to see any more of the news outlet’s photos or videos, but my husband was compelled to watch and listen as to try to understand what was happening. One bit of good news, my brother-in-law did not go into the city that day. 

The next day, when I returned to Cos Cob School, I found out that one of the parents of two of our students, died that day. Joseph Lenihan, an executive vice president for a financial services company, worked on the 89th floor of the World Trade Center’s south tower. In addition to his wife, Ingrid, he left behind three children; his daughters, Megan and Gabriele, and his 21-month-old son, Joe Junior. I attended Joe’s funeral as one of the representatives from Cos Cob School. It was absolutely heartbreaking.

In the days following the 9/11 attacks, after spending day after day in one or the other of the schools, reassuring, supporting, guiding, and assisting students, parents, teachers, staff members and administrators, and night after night comforting our own children; I sobbed to my husband, “When do I get to be upset? When do I get to cry?” 

He held me in his arms and with a voice of calm and reason, whispered, “Right here. Right now. I’ve got you babe.” 

The attacks caused the deaths of 2,996 people and injured more than 6000. The death toll included 265 people on the four planes, 2,606 in and around the World Trade Center, and 125 at the Pentagon. 2,700 children lost a parent in the terrorist attacks that day. 2,700. 

A 9/11 Memorial at Cos Cob Park honors Joe, eleven other Greenwich residents, and fourteen people with ties to the town who died. It is a beautiful and touching tribute in memory of those and so many others who lost their lives that day.