History Etched in My Memory

History is not just something we read in textbooks. It’s the moments etched into our minds—the ones we carry with us forever. People talk about where they were during Pearl Harbor, when JFK was assassinated, or when George Floyd was murdered. For me, I remember exactly where I was on the day of the Challenger disaster, and again, on 9/11.

On January 28, 1986, I was walking through the UW–Eau Claire commons when crowds of students gathered around the only TV in the area, perched high in the corner of a sitting room. Oohs and ahhs rose as the space shuttle Challenger took off. We watched with that “damn, we are a nation that accomplishes big things” feeling. But just over a minute into its ascent, it exploded. We stood there, stunned, asking ourselves if we had truly seen what we thought we’d seen. Slowly, incredulously, people peeled away and drifted off to class or lunch at the Davies Cafeteria. We walked away silently.

The other major world event of my lifetime was 9/11…

I was teaching first grade when our principal stopped by my classroom and handed me a small slip of paper. It read:

“Planes have crashed into the World Trade Center. There are fires on the Mall in Washington, D.C. A third plane has crashed in Pennsylvania. I will let you know about any further developments.”

I stood for a moment inside my classroom, then stepped into the hallway. The teacher next door was holding the same note. Neither of us knew more than what was written. It was just after 10:00 CST. I picked up the classroom phone to call Craig. He knew nothing more—he had been on his way up to the deer hunting land with my dad. They turned the car around and drove back home.

I sent my students out for recess at 10:15 and crossed the hall to the library. The librarian already had the TV tuned to live coverage in the pit area. Teachers gathered around. Together we watched the footage—planes hitting the towers, their collapse—again and again. At lunch, we stayed glued to the screen. A few parents arrived to take their children home.

When school ended, I left immediately. I wanted to be with Craig. Since he was in the Army National Guard, I thought he might have information about how the country would respond. But he hadn’t been contacted. That evening, we sat together, watching replays into the night.

The next day, one of my students told me he felt sad after seeing a man fall from one of the towers. I reassured him that he must have imagined it—that news coverage wouldn’t show such a thing. But they did.

History is not only about the past—it’s about what we carry forward. 9/11 is one of those days that shaped who we are, both as a country and as individuals. I will always remember where I was, what I saw, and how it felt to live through a moment that changed history forever.

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