Eight years ago. Everyone remembers where they were and what they were doing. Having just watched the horrific images on my tv screen, I got into my car to drive to Strawberry School, not knowing what else to do. Kind of like the day Kennedy was shot and I tried to go to my class in Berkeley, in a daze. Of course, there was no class and then I really didn't know what to do. This was different, however, because speculation was rife; I remember hearing news reports that the Golden Gate Bridge was the next target. So I drove to school. My principal rushed into my classroom, wringing hands, and muttered, "What do we say to the kids?" Not knowing the best path to take, I said that I thought we should reassure them and give them as normal a day as possible. So that's what I did, and it seemed a good way to go. However, one 6th grade teacher decided to show the live news broadcasts replaying ad nauseum the hijacked plane crashing into the twin tower and accompanied, of course, by broadcasters' dire guesses, misinformation, and hyperbole. I thought that was a mistake, but her argument was that it was history in the making, a valid point. Everyone was struggling with how to respond. There was no lesson plan for 9/11.