Heroes are

A teacher explains the world to her class; 9/11 and the war in the Middle East

September 11.

An anniversary, one that is either displayed loudly or swept under the rug and forgotten.

Every channel displays some form of commemoration, some news footage.

And every three year old with television access saw it. Then they go to school, and they sit at their desks, and they ask;

"Why did evil ninjas steal a plain and fly into a building?"

"Why did they say the elevators didn't work?"

"Why where the fire fighters dirty?"

"Why did the fire fighters put there masks on other people?"

"Why did the fire fighters cry?"

"Were the people jumping out of the windows real?"

"Did their mommies forget to teach them not to jump from tall things?"

"Were there soft things for them to land on?"

"Why were the doctors all dirty?"

"Why did mommy cry when she saw that movie?"

"The man said it was New York. Isn't Superman in New York? Why didn't Superman stop them?"

"Why didn't the policeman call Batman?"

"Where were the Ninja Turtles?"

"Was Spider Man sick?"

"Daddy said that someone died, Did they really die?"

"Why did people die?"

"Where are they now?"

"Where were the heroes?"

I looked at my shoes, what do I say to these eager young faces looking at me, begging for answers. Innocent and confused. What do I say?

Sigh.

So all the questions have been asked.

I take a deep breath, and look at all these sweet little faces, they believe in me, they believe that I will always know the answers. They Need to know the truth now, I can't hide it, and I can't tell them it was pretend.

I tell a story.

"A long time ago, when your mommies and daddies were still kids, there were some bad men. They were bullies. They were afraid of us, and they wanted to hurt us.

So they took an airplane away from us and they crashed it into a building that we really loved a lot. The building was broken and there were many many people who were hurt."

And here I was interrupted with "Were they killed?"

"Some of them did have to go and live with God. And everyone was really really sad, and really really frightened. But we are all stronger and we all care about each other very much, so we worked together..."

"Like a team?"

"Yes. We worked together just like a gigantic team. And we cleaned up the mess, and we washed the sad peoples faces, and we dried their tears, and we made a special place where we could remember what happened, and where we could remember the people who were hurt."

"But where were the heroes? Why didn't the turtles save them?" A question that hurt. One that I, as a small child watching the news that fateful day, had begged of my mother as she stood and cried.

"There were so many heroes that the news could not see them all. They were dressed as firemen, and doctors, and policemen. Some even dressed as business men!" 

"Like Superman does? Sometimes Superman dresses like a business man." 

"Yes, a lot like superman."

So what did we do with the Bullies?" A question that took a lot of thought. How do you say that? How do you explain a war?

"Well all of our army men and women went to see the bullies and teach them about us. They are heroes too. They know that if you teach others about your self, and if you learn about others as much as you can, then maybe we can keep bullies from doing something like that ever again. Most bullies are just scafed because they don't understand you, and if people understand each other then we don't need to fight each other."

They looked at me, concerned and shocked.

"Do you remember that long ago? Did you see it?"

"Yes, I was a little older then you, I was 11 years old," 

I was interrupted with gasps of "That's so old!"

"And I heard a voice on the news. Then I heard my Mom say she was sad, and that there was a bad man on the T.V. so I ran into the living room and my mom was very sad, she was crying. It was on the T.V. and I was very scared. I didn't know how this could happen, and I asked the same question that you did. Where are the heroes? I was scared and mad and sad, for a long time. I didn't know why people were so bad. I didn't know why people would let other people get hurt. But then something happened. My brother grew up, and he put on a camouflage jacket. And he became a hero. And then something else happened. I grew up, and I learned that sometimes bad things will happen, but there are heroes everywhere that will help you. They build houses after storms break them. They cook food for people who are hungry and sick. They by toys for children who don't have any. They make coats for people who are cold. They help lost pets find their families. They are all heroes."

They looked at me with eyes now filled with wonder, not confusion and fear.

"Did someone ever hug the bad man and tell him he doesn't have to be scared of us?" 

I swallowed hard. I wanted to cry. Cry at the memory of the day. Cry at the years that I felt bitter and angry. Cry because these tiny little people understood what we had all forgotten. 

Love thine enemy.

"Are you a Hero?" The question came, ringing like a bell, echoing through me soul. Was I, was I a hero? I had seen so may people fighting. Was I, who had been scared and bitter for so long. Who blamed the world for the loss of my brother. Who blamed God when the storm destroyed our home. Who hated the bullies who tormented me... Could a soul that had lived so long in hate ever be a hero?

I smile, trembling a little. I knew deep down that I was, in my own way a hero. I was a hero to these tiny humans. These people who would become our leaders. Who would change the world.

"Yes, But I'll never show you my mask." I said.

"What kind of hero?"

"The kind that teaches small ones to be heroes, and the kind that reminds the tall heroes why they can stand so tall."