It was the first week of Kindergarden. My dad drove me to school that morning to Y-Care, a program for kids to be dropped off at early in the morning. As we approached the intersection where the fire station was, multiple fire trucks raced out of the station with their lights and sirens on. It was exciting as a young kid to see this but both my dad and I were completely unaware that at that exact same time, the first plane had struck the first tower in New York. When school started, many of the TVs were on so the teachers could learn about the tragic news. They combined all six of our classes into two rooms. I remember several of the teachers stepped out in the hallway to cry. After coming home to my parents stunned by the news as it was unfolding, I learned that it had bean an act of a new concept to me, terrorism. The newspaper on September 12, 2001 had the pictures of several of the high jackers. I asked my dad who they were and he said that they were the people that crashed into the buildings. I put the paper on the couch and jumped repeatedly on their pictures. We kept the paper and every time I come across it I remember doing that.