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Crumbling Spirit
(c) 2010 D. Ed. Hoggatt
Wednesday, April 19, 1995
In the Computer Lab:
Something weird is happening. I don’t know what. The weather is nice – a beautiful spring day – only something strange happened. At about nine o’clock, we heard a loud clap of thunder. Only it wasn’t thunder. It was just a short booom! and then the rafters in the ceiling shook and vibrated like there was an earthquake or something. (I’ve never felt an earthquake, but I’ll bet that’s what it sounds like.) Then, as quickly as it came, it was gone again. We all just looked at the ceiling with our mouths open, as if we were expecting it to happen again or fall in on us. Nothing ever did.
We kids were a little shaken up by this whole thing, but Mr. A just said it was a jet breaking the sound barrier and we should all get quiet so we could finish the test. That’s what we were doing when we heard the boom – taking our spelling pretest. He said we shouldn’t worry, but he looked more concerned than he let on – like he wasn’t convinced it was a jet after all. As he gave the next word – legislature – his face twisted up like he was confused. Then, he announced he needed to check on something and that we should read silently until he got back. He didn’t even pick up the spelling tests.
I’ve never known Mr. A to leave the class without an adult to supervise us, but that’s exactly what he did next. I was glad to have a reprieve from the spelling test, but this latest action kind of got me worried. Was he scared about something?
A little bit later, Todd Gestetner’s mother came into the room and announced that Mr. Atkinson asked her to watch the class while he ran some errands. It was fun while she was there, because she told us some embarrassing stories about Todd and his older brother when they were younger and had a tendency to get in trouble in some most unusual ways. After that, we played hangman on the chalkboard and the Seven-Up game. Mr. A didn’t come back for a long time, and when he did, he just checked to see how Mrs. Gestetner was holding up and to give her some quick ideas about how to keep us busy until lunch. A couple of times, he called her into the hallway where they spoke in low voices about something, but none of us could make out what they were talking about. What we could make out were the looks on their faces. Teachers from other classes would also come over to talk. Ms. Humboldt even came over. I watched as all the color seemed to flush right out of her face, and she looked as if she’d seen a ghost.
Something is going on, and it’s making me very nervous.
I asked Mrs. Gestetner if I could go to the restroom. I claimed it was an emergency since everybody knows no substitute teacher wants a student to wet their pants under their watch. It worked. Once in the hallway and in the restroom, I overheard more of what the teachers were talking about. Something happened downtown, they said. There was even mention of a bomb and of a building exploding. And that’s when my mind started running away.
All I could think of was Dad working at the air force base. My greatest fear must have come true and the United States was under attack from some enemy like Iraq or Libya. Apparently, a bad dictator had sent planes to attack the United States, and they had dropped a bomb at the air base. All I could think of was the building where Dad worked.
In my mind’s eye, the building was just a pile of rubble and no one in it would be found alive. Suddenly, I really did need to use the restroom. I was going to be sick.
When I came out, I decided to take my time getting back to class. Some of the teachers were gathered around the doors to the library, so I decided to wander on down the hall to see if I could find out anything else about my dad’s building. The only thing I could tell was that the teachers were watching television.
I could hear the voice of a bewildered news reporter who sounded like he was surrounded by emergency vehicles. Sirens were blaring around him as he talked: “Linda, at this time, we’re just not sure how many more bombs there are. Police and rescue squads have told people to get out of the area until the bomb squad has things a little more under control. Until then, you can see what a mess the situation is. The building is literally half gone. Now, no one will confirm whether this was a gas line explosion or an attack of some sort. All anyone is sure of is there are hundreds of injured people and a lot of damage to property.”
Someone switched the channel. I hugged the wall so no one would notice how close to the library I was getting. I might have gotten in trouble for being out of class, but I was too worried about my dad to think about that – I had to find out if the reporters were talking about his building. I heard the reporter interviewing a passerby about what she thought had happened. The passerby stuttered and stammered, finally saying, “It’s a war zone! The building is gone.” Then she began coughing, and the reporter took over again: “Rescue workers and medical personnel are running in every which direction just looking for survivors. From the picture on your monitor, you probably aren’t able to tell very much about the situation. The dust and smoke have not yet cleared enough to get a clear picture of what the building looks like from this location.”
The anchorwoman at the television studio took over. “Thank you, Brent. Now to recap, there has been an explosion in downtown Oklahoma City. Again, a building in downtown Oklahoma City is the site of a large explosion. It happened at 9:02, this morning, and our news team is still trying to get information as quickly as they can.” There was a long pause. Then the anchorwoman said, “They are evacuating the rescuers. Repeat: Rescuers are being told there may be another bomb at the…”
The TV channel was switched again, and one of the teachers recognized the location of the explosion. “That’s just a few miles from here. See. See there, that’s the YMCA. Whatever it is, it’s close to the downtown YMCA.” This was not comforting news to me. True, Dad was safe at the air force base. That was good to know. But Mom works downtown. In a building across the street from the YMCA. My mother and baby brother might have been in that explosion.
(c) 2010 D. Ed. Hoggatt
Wednesday, April 19, 1995
In the Computer Lab:
Something weird is happening. I don’t know what. The weather is nice – a beautiful spring day – only something strange happened. At about nine o’clock, we heard a loud clap of thunder. Only it wasn’t thunder. It was just a short booom! and then the rafters in the ceiling shook and vibrated like there was an earthquake or something. (I’ve never felt an earthquake, but I’ll bet that’s what it sounds like.) Then, as quickly as it came, it was gone again. We all just looked at the ceiling with our mouths open, as if we were expecting it to happen again or fall in on us. Nothing ever did.
We kids were a little shaken up by this whole thing, but Mr. A just said it was a jet breaking the sound barrier and we should all get quiet so we could finish the test. That’s what we were doing when we heard the boom – taking our spelling pretest. He said we shouldn’t worry, but he looked more concerned than he let on – like he wasn’t convinced it was a jet after all. As he gave the next word – legislature – his face twisted up like he was confused. Then, he announced he needed to check on something and that we should read silently until he got back. He didn’t even pick up the spelling tests.
I’ve never known Mr. A to leave the class without an adult to supervise us, but that’s exactly what he did next. I was glad to have a reprieve from the spelling test, but this latest action kind of got me worried. Was he scared about something?
A little bit later, Todd Gestetner’s mother came into the room and announced that Mr. Atkinson asked her to watch the class while he ran some errands. It was fun while she was there, because she told us some embarrassing stories about Todd and his older brother when they were younger and had a tendency to get in trouble in some most unusual ways. After that, we played hangman on the chalkboard and the Seven-Up game. Mr. A didn’t come back for a long time, and when he did, he just checked to see how Mrs. Gestetner was holding up and to give her some quick ideas about how to keep us busy until lunch. A couple of times, he called her into the hallway where they spoke in low voices about something, but none of us could make out what they were talking about. What we could make out were the looks on their faces. Teachers from other classes would also come over to talk. Ms. Humboldt even came over. I watched as all the color seemed to flush right out of her face, and she looked as if she’d seen a ghost.
Something is going on, and it’s making me very nervous.
I asked Mrs. Gestetner if I could go to the restroom. I claimed it was an emergency since everybody knows no substitute teacher wants a student to wet their pants under their watch. It worked. Once in the hallway and in the restroom, I overheard more of what the teachers were talking about. Something happened downtown, they said. There was even mention of a bomb and of a building exploding. And that’s when my mind started running away.
All I could think of was Dad working at the air force base. My greatest fear must have come true and the United States was under attack from some enemy like Iraq or Libya. Apparently, a bad dictator had sent planes to attack the United States, and they had dropped a bomb at the air base. All I could think of was the building where Dad worked.
In my mind’s eye, the building was just a pile of rubble and no one in it would be found alive. Suddenly, I really did need to use the restroom. I was going to be sick.
When I came out, I decided to take my time getting back to class. Some of the teachers were gathered around the doors to the library, so I decided to wander on down the hall to see if I could find out anything else about my dad’s building. The only thing I could tell was that the teachers were watching television.
I could hear the voice of a bewildered news reporter who sounded like he was surrounded by emergency vehicles. Sirens were blaring around him as he talked: “Linda, at this time, we’re just not sure how many more bombs there are. Police and rescue squads have told people to get out of the area until the bomb squad has things a little more under control. Until then, you can see what a mess the situation is. The building is literally half gone. Now, no one will confirm whether this was a gas line explosion or an attack of some sort. All anyone is sure of is there are hundreds of injured people and a lot of damage to property.”
Someone switched the channel. I hugged the wall so no one would notice how close to the library I was getting. I might have gotten in trouble for being out of class, but I was too worried about my dad to think about that – I had to find out if the reporters were talking about his building. I heard the reporter interviewing a passerby about what she thought had happened. The passerby stuttered and stammered, finally saying, “It’s a war zone! The building is gone.” Then she began coughing, and the reporter took over again: “Rescue workers and medical personnel are running in every which direction just looking for survivors. From the picture on your monitor, you probably aren’t able to tell very much about the situation. The dust and smoke have not yet cleared enough to get a clear picture of what the building looks like from this location.”
The anchorwoman at the television studio took over. “Thank you, Brent. Now to recap, there has been an explosion in downtown Oklahoma City. Again, a building in downtown Oklahoma City is the site of a large explosion. It happened at 9:02, this morning, and our news team is still trying to get information as quickly as they can.” There was a long pause. Then the anchorwoman said, “They are evacuating the rescuers. Repeat: Rescuers are being told there may be another bomb at the…”
The TV channel was switched again, and one of the teachers recognized the location of the explosion. “That’s just a few miles from here. See. See there, that’s the YMCA. Whatever it is, it’s close to the downtown YMCA.” This was not comforting news to me. True, Dad was safe at the air force base. That was good to know. But Mom works downtown. In a building across the street from the YMCA. My mother and baby brother might have been in that explosion.
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