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Witness the aftermath of a destructive tornado that hit a small town, causing significant damage to schools and leaving a community in shock. This powerful account captures the scene, the resilience of the people, and the overwhelming sense of gratitude for being alive amidst the devastation.
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03.02.2007 Approximately 11:00 a.m.
Cars of parents that had parked in front of the building just before it hit.
Piles of limbs and twisted metal between long hall and the Science Wing
The front of the Science Wing from the Hillcrest Elementary side.
Can you see the Channel One TV still mounted on the wall in the corner of the room?
Helicopters were still coming in and out of the back of the school, though no one would say why.
The Media is parked between the Band practice field and the old Arrow factory.
Evidently, there was an assignment on page 253 after their test.
The End These pictures do not fully display the scene. Glass crunched underneath your feet as you walked down the road. Telephone poles were snapped off at the ground, and twisted around their own wires, only to be thrown to the ground several yards on the other side of the road. I saw one of the teachers from the High School leaving just as I was approaching. She and some others had tried to go in and save any resources they could but were sent away by the National Guard. She was crying and shaking, as she explained that four of the deceased students had belonged to her. Teenagers walked up and down the road looking for a teacher or friend to let them know the latest news. Strangers walked in from the back neighborhoods just to help cut limbs and carry off trash. It was like nothing I have ever seen in the 25 years I have lived in this town, and I have been through all the other tornadoes, storms, and hurricanes. This one was different. It hit differently: with more intent and fury, concentrating all its efforts on the one place that would hurt all of us. It was as if something evil wanted to send a message. That is some of what I saw. However, I never saw people stealing from their neighbors, fighting, arguing, or national guardsmen having to subdue crowds. I never heard anyone once ask when someone was coming to rescue them, or when the government would pay for all their damage. In fact, I overheard one teenager say that she felt guilty for being alive. That must have been the unusual silence that I felt: our guilt for being grateful that we were alive. --Cassy Roberts