I got a voice mail from my husband during my first period class saying that he didn't know what happened but they believed the US was being attacked and he wouldn't be coming home for he didn't know how long-days, weeks... They actually knew less than the public at that point. A bit ironic.
I went for my morning break in time to see the second plane hit in the teacher's lounge. We ran business as usual until lunch that day and immediately after the kids had lunch they locked down every classroom. Being an art teacher I was in a portable building with no facilities in it. I remember having boys nearly in tears because they weren't allowed to go to the bathroom. After a debate with our principal for several minutes I told her I was bringing the kids out of the less than safe double wide trailer they were in and bringing them into the building. She wasn't happy with me, but I was much relieved and so were those boys.
By then I had talked with my husband a couple of times and there was serious fear that Ft. Hood or the schools around it would be hit. Hood because it's our largest military base. The schools because of the desire to hit American's where it hurts-our people and what hurts more than losing children.
We were not allowed to tell the students anything that had happened. I thought that to be the stupidest thing I'd ever heard. Did they really think that these kids weren't going to see, hear or that their parents weren't texting them to be sure they were OK? The gossip and rumors among the kids were INSANE.
We didn't know if they were even going to put the kids on the buses and let them go home or how long we'd be there.
Someone got it together because by the end of the late bus schedule the kids were loaded and the walkers gone. It wasn't very wisely done if the school system was so "worried" but we were headed home and everyone was gone.
I lived in military housing at the time. I picked my kids up from their respective schools and headed home. It took me HOURS to make the 10 minute in rush hour drive house which wasn't on the base proper. It was one of the outlying housing developments. As I FINALLY got to the entrance they wouldn't let me in. I hadn't brought my purse with everyone's ID's in it. They held us there for another hour COMPLETELY searching my vehicle, verifying my ID with my husband's unit as well as our kids...
There were sometimes checks going on to the main post back then, but rarely. And never for the kids. I had never needed an ID to go into our housing area. Forgetting my purse was nothing. I rarely carried it unless we were going onto the main post. I carry it without fail now.
I have no idea what went on in my husband's unit that day and I don't know as I want to know any more than he told me. He was on the airfield so I couldn't get to him even if I could get on post-which would have taken hours upon hours. We figured we wouldn't see him for days at the very least. He did get to come home late that night, but when he left again we knew it could be for the day or for weeks, months...
Not only was the shock of the attack enough to rock our world, the sudden realization that our decision to go military-seeing how we hadn't been to war in so long it was pretty safe-was pretty naive. We lived in limbo for weeks as decisions were made soldiers were deployed and the reality of military life set in-deep.