Jed Dearybury - The Courageous Classroom

Me: Hey Daddy, what's going on in the world? I heard there was a plane crash at the World Trade Center. Is that true?

Dad: Yes, I am watching the news now. (He paused to take a puff of his cigarette.) They are saying it was a passenger plane full of people, but they haven't confirmed it yet. Lots of smoke coming out of one of the towers. (He exhales his own smoke.)

Me: WHAT? Are you kidding me? What in the …

Dad: Oh My God SON!!!! Oh my God … Oh My God!!! Another plane just flew into the other building!! I JUST SAW IT ON LIVE TV!!!!

Me: What? You must be …

Dad: Oh my god! SON! IT'S AWFUL!!!! There was a huge fireball!!! WHERE ARE YOU? I THINK WE ARE UNDER ATTACK! (He continued to scream in disbelief.)

The rest of the conversation was a blur. Eventually we hung up, but I have no idea how the call ended. Dad was terrified and his fear came through the phone and shook me to the core. “What should I do?” I thought.

I walked hurriedly into the school from the playground where I was standing to make the call. I went straight to a co-worker's classroom and told her what I had heard from my dad. We were teaching first grade at the time so we tried to remain calm, but we were both incredibly scared. It was almost impossible to stay calm because a group of students from the school were in NYC for their senior trip. Former students, kids of teachers, siblings of our students, part of our community … and their destination that morning was supposed to be the towers.

Within moments it seemed everyone in the school knew. The team I worked with at the time did the best they could to keep the news quiet so that the students wouldn't panic, but man was it hard. It got even harder when the principal passed by the rooms around 9:40 to tell us that a plane had hit the Pentagon. I will never forget his face, his tone, his words … “PRAY. We are under attack.”

I didn't recognize the fear I experienced that day. Our country under attack? By whom? For what? As I have mentioned previously in this book, I had a very violent father who abused my mom and I both. I am also a gay man in the Bible Belt South. I know fear well, but that day … it was a whole different fear than I had ever experienced.

I was paralyzed from working. I couldn't think. I couldn't teach. I could hardly even move. I was not in charge of students at the time so I, like the rest of the US, found the nearest TV and began to watch what was happening. I was paralyzed. Fear gripped me so tightly I ceased to function.

As the day moved on and we all realized that we were indeed under attack, the school I worked for at the time decided to dismiss early. It was the right call. No one in the building could function. Parents of the students on the trip to NYC began to come to the school to pull their other kids for the day. Teachers who had kids on the trip were not able to do their work. None of us were. I was so grateful they sent us all home.

I got home and my two roommates, Matt and Luke were there. We all sat around the TV with our eyes so fixed on every detail that the paralyzation I felt at school only worsened. Normally, home is a safe space. A place where the worries of the outside world seem to vanish, but not this day. I called my mom. She invited us over for dinner with the whole family. We needed to be together. It was only later that night after a meal with my loved ones that I felt somewhat better. Then, it started all over as I realized how many thousands of people would never have that moment again because of the day's events.

As I typed this portion of the book, I did some research about survivors of that day. I ran across an interactive timeline that details the day moment by moment. There I heard a recording of Constance Labetti, an Aon Corporation employee on the 99th floor of the South Tower, describe seeing Flight 11 heading toward the North Tower.

I just stood frozen. I didn't move. I couldn't move. I just stood at the window .

Fear is paralyzing.

Everyone is afraid of something. We all have fears. Some big. Some little. Some that could shake us to the core. Mr. Lowe no doubt experienced fear that morning, and the student he met with the gun had fears. In February 2020 on a Thursday morning the weather in Spartanburg, SC, where I (Jed) live, was quite volatile, and fear was almost tangible across the area. Local meteorologists were on television bright and early, warning of potentially hazardous weather approaching. Even a meteorologist from New York City that I follow on Instagram, @reedmcdonough, posted alerts on his social media for dangerous conditions across our region. Based on the confidence the weather forecasters had that severe weather was incoming, I was surprised that schools didn't delay or cancel for the day. “Safety is paramount” was the favorite slogan of one local high school principal. Yet this particular morning, no district in the county opted for a day off. Buses rolled out at their usual time, kids filled the schools up, and the day of learning began.

Around 10am the first tornado siren sounded. It was so odd to hear it blaring early in the day. Tornadoes are not extremely common in the area like they are in the infamous tornado alley of the Midwestern United States, but if we do get them, they come later in the afternoon once the heat of the day has juiced up the atmosphere. I was at home that day, not in a classroom teaching, but my first thought as the wailing alarm continued was, “Poor kids at school. I bet they're terrified.”

I always think about the students at school because of the countless tornado drills I endured as both a student and teacher, and because of my niece Sophie. She, like lots of students, (myself included when I was a kid), is terrified of storms. At the first rumble of thunder nearby, she and I always exchange a quick text or brief phone call to ease her fears of what could be headed our way thanks to the thunder that alerts us. She calls me because I am a bit of a weather nerd, and she's convinced that I know where the storms are headed. She's not wrong. I do know. If I weren't an educator I would be on air for The Weather Channel no doubt! I study the weather probably more than any topic other than education. I get my obsession with the weather from my great grandma Maudie. I spent lots of time with her as a kid and she loved all things weather. She even had a little ceramic owl that changed colors based on the barometric pressure. The darker the color, the wetter/snowier the weather. Who knows if it was accurate, but I was obsessed with it. When Maudie passed away, she willed me that little owl. I am looking at it as I type this.

Within minutes of the initial siren sound, my phone began to blow up. The first text … Sophie. She was at school with a book over her head. The next one, my oldest niece, Taylor. She took a pic in the hallway in a face down position with an algebra book the only thing between her head and a cinder block wall. Not long after that my teacher friends began to text wanting updates about the storm's path. Word gets around about my weather knowledge thanks to social media. Students across the county were hunkered in place just like the drills had taught them to be, but this was no drill. The storms were loud, full of heavy rain, and indeed a real tornado.

It struck through the heart of town. It passed right over my old school taking down lots of neighborhood trees and power lines. It moved right over or within a mile of at least five or six other schools that I was connected to. The kids were terrified and many teachers were too, as their own kids were battening down in hallways without them. Luckily, no one was seriously injured, but lots of damage was done, more than just physical. Emotional damage occurred that morning as frightened students of all ages hid under their books, fearing the worst. According to my nieces they stayed in position for more than an hour. Not long after the first alarm sounded another went off and a new storm was approaching. The initial hour turned into two, three more hours. Teachers were delivering lunches in the hallways and asking students to eat with one hand and stay covered with the other. I cannot fathom how unnerving it all must have been. It gives me anxiety just to type about it.