Recalling a national tragedy from a personal perspective
Americans are always remembering where they were or what they were doing when a news story of national or international significance occurred. Most of us who were around can vividly remember where we were when the Twin Towers fell; when JFK, RFK and Martin Luther King, Jr. were assassinated; when the Berlin Wall came tumbling down; when Neil Armstrong and company walked on the moon; when Princess Di and Elvis died; and even when Marilyn Monroe went to that big movie studio in the sky.
However, of all the earth-shattering news bulletins that hit the airwaves or televisions in the past fifty years, the one that hit me the most personally was the Challenger explosion, an event that was recently commemorated the 25th anniversary of the disaster, January 28.
This has special memories for me because I wanted to be on board as the first teacher in space, an honor that tragically went to Christa McAuliffe.
For about a year and a half (or more) prior to the launch of the ill-fated spacecraft, I was in communication with NASA, filling out forms, receiving periodic documents, and planning for my “experiment” to be completed in space.
As far back as I could remember, I had longed to go into space, looking down at the Earth from above, floating weightless in the space shuttle, and eating from those little containers with the freeze-dried menu.
Hey, I was from the Sputnik/Tang generation and JFK had inspired all of us “boomers” that space would be the final frontier.
However, I was not to be a space-faring explorer because it was announced that McAuliffe would be my profession’s representative going where no teacher had gone before.
The day of Challenger’s final launch happened to be a work day for us teachers. There were no children at the school and I was in my classroom completing some required paperwork. I don’t know why I didn’t have my television on as much as I wanted to be in McAuliffe’s shoes.
All of a sudden my principal, Lure Jenkins, zoomed into the room and hugged me, saying that she was so happy that I didn’t get my wish to soar above the horizon. I was puzzled and she exclaimed, “The Challenger just blew up!”
I stood stunned for a few minutes before moving over to the ‘on’ switch and heard the last command heard by the Challenger’s crew and saw the image that was shown repeatedly: “Go with throttle up,” and the tremendous explosion, following by debris falling from the Florida sky.
However, the image that remained in my mind was that of McAuliffe’s parents looking upward, shaking their heads in disbelief as what should have been a day of jubilation turned into one of sorrow.
I couldn’t help but think that they would’ve been my parents if I had been chosen as the teacher in space.
But, things turn out the way they’re supposed to and guess I was meant to remain earthbound. For about two years or so after the Challenger Disaster, I received follow-up letters from NASA. I suppose my name is still registered on some list as being an applicant for the now-defunct teacher in space program.
Even though this quarter century later has not completely dulled my interest in space travel, I think I’d rather experience it from the safety and security of my own home.
I’ll leave the soaring through the cosmos to Captain Kirk, Will Robinson, and Luke Skywalker.
