We are all in the classroom just sitting at our desks talking when the teacher comes back in. All the teachers have been buzzing around from classroom to classroom speaking in hush tones. We only notice that he won’t feature any magic tricks for us today. No pencil up the nose reappearing in his mouth. No pulling dimes and quarters out of our ears. He says that the WTC has been hit by planes. We respond with blinks and empty stares. The silence between him and us is broken when he announces that we’re going to the TV studio. As we march in the quiet halls from the Five/Six building into the middle school building and up a level to the third floor I think of the cameras and lights. Maybe this time I’ll be working the camera or maybe we will do a short comedy skit, I think to myself. The TV studio is dark with only the spotlights on. The teacher wheels out a bulky TV and turns it on. The screen repeats a plane crashing into a rectangular prism shape building then another in the twin building next to it. The people on TV in their own TV studios are just as quiet as us. I can only hear the sirens, and screams and burning rubble and my best friend breathing next to me. A PA announcement interrupts the moment and a woman asks for three students. Their parents were taking them home early. The TV goes off and we march back in silence to the classroom and wait for something to happen.