EXPLOSION AT THE TWIN TOWERS: For 17 Kindergartners, 5 Hours in an Elevator

EXPLOSION AT THE TWIN TOWERS: The Children; For 17 Kindergartners, 5 Hours in an Elevator
By ALISON MITCHELL
Published: February 27, 1993

The school bus full of kindergartners pulled up outside Public School 95 in the Gravesend section of Brooklyn just before 8 P.M. Teachers and school officials formed a double line at its door. And then one by one, 5-years-olds in colorful parkas were handed off the bus, some in tears, some unfazed and some bewildered after a day of being trapped in the World Trade Center.

The day's vigil had come to an end. "Thank God. I never thought I'd be so happy to see my school," said Annamarie Tesoriero, who had led her 17 youngsters in songs and prayers to keep their spirits up through five hours stuck in a dark elevator, with no hint of when they would be rescued. "We expected the children to behave. We're old-fashioned that way."

Millie Rodriguez, a parent who had been helping on the field trip, said: "The teacher was great. She took out her glow-in-the-dark rosary and we prayed."

The worst part of the long hours in the dark elevator was the uncertainty, with no hint of what had happened, no calls or contact from the outside world, Mrs. Tesoriero said.

For Rosemarie Russo's class, the problem was the cold. When the building shook and smoke billowed into the 107th floor cafeteria, she had to lead her students outside to the observation deck to huddle in the frigid temperatures for three hours. They then staggered down 107 flights, taking several hours.

The ordeal over, parents and friends raced to grab children in the elementary school gym. "I love you, I love you," Steve Caridad crooned, lifting Sabrina Ortiz, the 5-year-old daughter of a close friend.

Lyndon Johnson promised his stepdaughter, Claudia Smith, anything she wanted, even a trip to Disney World. The joy was a babble of English, Italian and Chinese. "No more trips," Arthur Bradley, 26, lectured his mother, Rose, who had been one of the teachers on the field trip.

Ms. Russo burst into tears when she was applauded by the waiting parents. As her charges left, she bent and kissed several of them goodbye.

Most of the 5-year-olds didn't say a word, simply sucking on ice-cream pops handed to them for solace and clutching their parents' legs.

It was nearly 12 hours earlier when five kindergarten classes had set off in buses for the annual and usually uneventful trip to the World Trade Center. The morning passed as usual, and by about 12:30 three of the classes were already preparing to leave.

Lisa Perri had just herded her students onto one of the waiting buses when the building behind her exploded. "The bus rocked," she said. "One of the parents said, 'What is that?' I said it was a bomb."

Behind her, two more classes were stuck in the lobby, the children caught in the stampede of adults fleeing the building. "They were trapping the kids," said Miss Perri, who describing how the teachers pulled the children out.

Miss Perri called the school, which became an instant magnet for Brooklyn parents who had heard of the explosion on television and radio. Slowly, each class called in except one. For long, tense hours no one knew what had happened to Mrs. Tesoriero's missing class until the elevator moved and she managed to telephone from the 35th floor about 6 P.M., to the school where parents and teachers were maintaining an anxious vigil. 'I Started Crying'

The first three classes returned to the school in midafternoon. "I was fine until I saw all the kids' mothers," said Miss Perri, 25. "They were crying. I started crying. It was terrible."