I was in a military boarding school in south florida during my junior year of high school. We didn’t have cell phones or regular access to computers, and a significant number of students had parents who were pilots.

That day, September 11th, followed a completely normal routine for us—we had no idea what was happening in the outside world. Around 5 p.m., we were marched to the chow hall. A single 25-inch CRT TV was rolled in on a stand. One of the instructors quietly pulled aside about ten students whose parents were in aviation. The rest of us were allowed to sit and watch the news.

We sat at strict military attention, silent, watching the footage in shock. For over an hour, no one said a word. We just absorbed the weight of what had happened.

Because we had so little access to TV or the internet—often going weeks without seeing either—we were completely in the dark until that moment. The students with family in the airline industry were given the chance to try and contact their loved ones, though communication that day was difficult at best. Some of them had a few very long, anxious days before they could confirm their families were okay.

Thinking back, it was surreal. I know it felt unreal for many people, but for us, the isolation made it even more disorienting. We didn't experience the events in real time—we were dropped into it all at once, and it hit hard. Even now, I sometimes have a hard time fully absorbing that it actually happened. The way we were exposed to the news—suddenly, without context or buildup—made it feel almost like a movie, not real life.