I was nine years old. A fourth grader in NY. Just before school ended for the day there was an announcement instructing us to go straight home immediately. As we exited the building our gym teacher stood at the door in tears saying “The President has been injured. Go home children.” You could feel the sorrow of the staff members. It silenced all of the children. That silence is what I most remember. For several days it felt as though our country’s breath had been taken away. It was still. It was quiet. I’ve never felt anything like it before or since. It was a shared collective sense of shame and grief. A wound that never quite healed.