Students reflect on 9/11 attacks 11 years later 
Amanda Coyne: My class of 28 was already half empty when I was told that my mother had come to pick me up from school early on the afternoon of Sept. 11, 2001. I was already confused as to why everyone suddenly had to leave school; maybe they all had the flu, I thought. But after my sister and I got in the car and I cheekily asked my mother if she had forgotten to tell me about a doctor's appointment, she told me.
"Something bad happened in the city. Someone attacked the Twin Towers. Dad is safe. We're safe. There's nothing to worry about."
I was confused, but not worried; I just thought it was strange. Over the next few days, however, I started to grasp what had actually happened.
My mother was planted in front of the TV watching CNN, which played video of the attacks on a seemingly infinite loop. When my father wasn't home by 9 p.m. that night, I asked when he'd be back from work. My mother told me that he had to stay in the city for a while to help out at work. At the time, he worked in fundraising at St. Vincent's Catholic Medical Center on the Lower East Side of Manhattan — blocks away from the World Trade Center. So close, in fact, that he heard the first plane, unusually loud, flying over the building.
For five days following the attacks, my father was the man people went to to ask if their family member was at St. Vincent's. Day after day, he would stand in front of the hospital, seeing bodies covered in rubble and ashes rolled into the emergency room, and, after checking a list of patients, tell hundreds of husbands, wives, mothers and fathers, "I'm sorry, they're not on the list."
For those five days, my siblings and I would wait up with my mother until my father called from his office. We knew he was safe, but we wanted him home. It never occurred to us how lucky we were to know that he would be.
Of those hundreds, or maybe thousands, of people who asked my father whether their family member was at St. Vincent's, only two received an affirmative response.
Tim Cox: It was a beautiful and sunny morning and I was sitting in my third grade class like it was an ordinary day. My teacher got called out of the room and the whole class was confused. Once she returned, she gathered the class on the floor and in a soothing, calm voice told us a serious plane crash had happened in New York City. She didn't give up many details and answered our questions vaguely.
But before long, fellow classmates were being called to the office because their parents were taking them home.
At the end of the day, my dad picked me up. Being the little kid I was, I curiously asked about the crash. After buckling me into the backseat, and in a voice similar to my teacher's, my dad said, "Tim, there are some very bad people in the world, some who really don't like our country, and today they crashed two planes into the Twin Towers."
Although my immaturity would normally hinder my comprehension for such adult concepts, I understood what was said right away. The two towers which I had grown up seeing as part of the New York skyline were now gone, and many people were dead because of it.
The rest of the day was filled with phone calls from relatives seeing if we were okay, neighbors coming in and out giving their opinions on the situation and a very somber tone.
Some people took a drive to a part of town where you could see New York City clearly and smoke was still rising.
From that day on, I had a greater appreciation for my country; even now, I have goosebumps writing this.
JennaMarie Hill: "Look how blue and beautiful the sky looks today; there isn't a cloud up there. Today could not be anymore perfect." That was the buzz of all the mothers while they waited for us kids to hop on our big yellow bus. The bus came; we hopped on and waved good bye. We had no clue that as we took off toward school, unsuspecting passengers were lifting off the ground for their final flight.
Even 11 years later, the images of smoke, pain and despair replay in my mind as clear as the blue sky that September morning. As a fourth grader, I couldn't make sense of the images — I couldn't piece together why everything was happening. Over the years, the innocent numbness has transformed into understanding and disbelief.
I'm now 20; I was born into war and I've lived over half my life in the current war. And while we all have differing opinions on current and past conflicts, I hope that everyone can agree that we should thank all those who have and still do put themselves in harm's way every day to ensure the comfort and freedom of our lives. I think we often forget just how good we have it as Americans.
My heart aches for all those who lost someone close to them 11 years ago today and to those who have lost a loved one who selflessly fought for our freedom since then. To my brother, Jonathan Hill, Ensign US Navy, thank you for dedicating your life to serve our country; you have made me the proudest sister in the world — you're going to do great things.
Thomas Bell: I have a unique perspective on Sept. 11 because I was able to see the towers off in the distance. My town, Highlands, N.J., is 17 miles south of Manhattan, so the city skyline is almost always visible. As many remember, that day was one of the clearest — not a cloud in the sky.
I was in third grade and the morning was typical until my school's principal came in and whispered something to my teacher, causing her jaw to drop. About 10 minutes passed and the principal came on the PA system announcing that parents would be arriving to take students home. Both of my parents were supposed to be in Manhattan that day; luckily, authorities closed the Lincoln Tunnel just before my father reached it, so he was able to come and pick my brothers and me up from school.
After he picked us up, we heard from our mother, who had been in a meeting uptown, far from the World Trade Center.
I can recall standing on my deck and seeing the World Trade Center smoking and, soon enough, not standing at all. My town became a center for people fleeing the city by ferry.
The days that followed were filled with silence punctuated by the sound of fighter jets flying overhead from the aircraft carrier just off the coast.
There's a reason why the motto for 9/11 is "Never Forget;" for the people that were there, that lost family and friends, that saw the immediate change in both landscape of the city and mood of the people, they can recall that day like no other. I can still remember seeing the smoke rising from the rubble weeks later.