An Apple for the
Teacher
Outside, it’s
still very dark and cold. The snow
reaches above my knee. But inside, it is
warm and well lit, the glow of the television attracting me as if I was a
herald moth. The carpet is rough under
my bare feet, tickly and scratchy.
I’m alone. Mom and Dad have already left for work,
braving the ice fog, subzero temperatures, and stubborn vehicles. I’m curled up on a worn out couch under a
thin blanket, eyes glued to a live feed on the news. It’s a very exciting moment on an otherwise
dull day, and I can’t look away.
The reporters on
the screen drones on, filling my living room with a slew of information I know
I should listen to but just can’t seem to make myself care about. I want action – the immediate rush of adrenaline
I know awaits.
~~~
The air is crisp
and cold. The overnight temperature
dropped below freezing and local farmers are concerned about their crops. The winter has been unusually cold, and this
strange weather interferes with progress – they’ve already had to push this
back more than once. The rough concrete
of the strip is crusted with frost that crunches and slips under the heavy
boots.
Steel bleachers
gleam in the morning sun. Quickly,
rumbling bus loads of spectators file out of squeaky doors, crammed together on
the bleachers like a squirrel’s carefully constructed cache of acorns. The sun beats down on them, warming them
through jackets and sweaters, eyes transfixed on the platform before them.
Strategically
placed speakers blare out the rich, tinny music of a military brass band in the
pleasant atmosphere of this chilly, humid morning. The crowd talks to one another laid back and
passing the time until go.
~~~
The whoosh of
the heat kicking on fills the close yet lonely space of the living room,
seemingly sucking all the breath from the room when it first blasts. I peek outside, looking at the stars
twinkling in an absolutely midnight black sky.
Nature is a
cruel mistress here in January. Her
mercurial moods that lift temperatures, along with your mood – only to have
them plummet once again – makes you think of her extreme displeasure, as if
she’s cursed the land and its inhabitants.
Breakfast now
finished, I move closer to the television.
The vehicle carrying the magnificent seven arrives. My pulse races and I know I am about to
witness history.
~~~
The sun is
heating the ground and the day is turning into something, while still chilly,
is very pleasant for the occasion. The
atmosphere is festival, the convivial buzz of conversations and speculation
filling the air. The sky above them is a
scintillating, absolutely clear blue.
It seems the day
has finally given into temptation, raising temperatures along with everyone’s
moods. This is, after all, Florida –
land of fun and sun. Nature has finally
given her blessing.
After their
breakfast and a short briefing before go time, the lucky seven chosen for this
historic mission load into a van. They
are shuttled out to the red carpet leading to the launch pad, heroes about to
step into the annals of history.
~~~
I have the sound
turned down on the television. I have no
wish to listen to some reporter talk over any information mission control may
be giving. If only they’d tap into the feed
from the center, I’d be raptly listening to the commentary. My young brain just can’t take the boring
tones of the reporter, though.
I watch as they
approach the shuttle. The vivid blue of
their uniforms almost match the sky. A
launch technician hands her something – a brilliant dot of crimson against the
baby blue background. He’s remembered
that you must give an apple to the teacher before the class day begins, and I
laugh.
I’m almost
holding my breath as I watch them enter a cavelike opening.
~~~
A hush falls
over the crowd. They’ve got an announcer
there, on the premises, giving a blow by blow of what is happening there,
live. Spectators have quit talking,
paying rapt attention to the announcer’s every word.
The seven
astronauts chosen for this mission appear from a van, and everyone cheers. They walk down a red carpet, the kind saved
for Hollywood VIPS or royalty, approaching the shuttle in the trademark blue
uniforms of NASA. A launch technician
gives everyone a smile and quick laugh with a cliché – handing her a bright red
apple.
They wave to the
crowd, smiling and hearts full of hope.
With one last salute, they enter the shuttle.
~~~
I’m mere inches
from the television now. The time has
come for them to check all the systems, ensure everything is in good working
order. My heart in racing, my pulse is
pounding as the time gets closer.
Having just
celebrated an historic holiday, to me this is much more worthy of celebration,
of holiday. A teacher in space? No way!
This is an honor reserved for Air Force officers, pilots… the upper
echelons of the cool! The fact that they
chose her for this? It gives hope to
everyone who dreams of going into space.
I know the
launch is very close.
~~~
The seven are
seated, running through pre-launch check.
The goal is to ensure everything is in working order so the launch does
not get scrubbed yet again. Hearts are
beating, pulses sped up in anticipation of this historic event.
Christa
McAuliffe, an 8th grade social studies and history teacher, is
onboard as a payload specialist. She was
chosen out of thousands of teachers who applied for the chance at visiting
space. Her plans are to actually teach
some of her classes while orbiting above Earth.
This has given children all over hope that they may also one day go into
outer space.
It’s time to
start the countdown.
~~~
Oh, this is
it! I turn the volume back up and place
the remote on top of the large, clunky frame of the television. They’ve started the countdown!!
I hear the
thundering of the rockets igniting, but the effect is lost in my living
room. I watch, bright-eyed and naïve in
my optimism. This historic day will be
one that lives in my memory forever, I think, one I will happily relive – even
tell my own children about in time.
My heart is
pounding in my chest as they reach 1 and the shuttle lifts off.
~~~
The countdown is
started. The crowd watches, spellbound
by the moment at hand.
You could hear a
pin drop in the bleachers if it wasn’t for the thunderous roar of those huge
rockets. They shake the ground like an
earthquake, and everyone buzzes with excitement. It’s going to be a day none of them will
forget.
Every eye in the
nation is on the shuttle as the countdown reaches one. The shuttle lifts off.
~~~
Eyes wide in
wonder, I watch as the shuttle grows smaller and smaller on my television. My excitement is growing as I know soon it
will disappear from vision as they exit the atmosphere and enter space.
Then shock…
horror… my heart leaps into my throat.
There is something incredibly wrong!
The smoky
fireball of the first engine separating is joined by a second as the shuttle
itself bursts into flames.
~~~
The shuttle
grows smaller and smaller on the horizon, moving higher and closer to the point
of no return. No one is ready for what
comes.
Nine seconds
into flight, right as the first rocket separates and after making a strange
pattern through the short flight, an extra flame trail appears in the sky.
A silent
fireball appears as the shuttle explodes like the Hindenburg.
~~~
My eleven year
old mind is unable to fully process the gravity of the situation as the
reporters jump back on the live feed. My
mouth is open wide in shock as I watch the smoky trail in the sky which
separates into two smaller ones ending in bright flames.
This is my first
memorable experience with tragedy. Sure,
I’d known my great grandparents died, but that was when I was six. The concept of death was foreign and strange. They just went to sleep in my mind, a really
long nap.
But this? This sticks with me for quite a while, the
image of those fireballs in the sky leading from separate trails. I don’t know quite how to process the
enormity of the situation, so I try my best to find different ways to cope.
~~~
The spectators
sit in the stands, silent and staring into the sky dumbly. It’s something that takes time to process –
it takes a moment for the brain to accept what has happened.
This is the
first tragedy that, because of advancing technology and worldwide newsfeeds,
the world shares in equally. It is the
first catastrophic event that touches the lives of such disparate strangers in
such a real, visceral way.
In the months
and years to come, NASA, the U.S., and many people who shared that awful moment
must find ways to come to terms with what they witnessed. For some, it’s through the review of flight
data to isolate the moment of failure.
For others, it’s reexamining the dream of possibly going to space. For others, it’s trying to compartmentalize what
they saw, what happened, what was experienced, so that they can deal with the
enormity of it.
~~~
It has been
decades since that fateful moment when the space shuttle Challenger exploded
approximately 10 miles over Cape Canaveral, Florida, killing all seven
astronauts aboard, including Payload Specialist Christa McAuliffe, an 8th
grade social studies and history teacher.
While she knew she was making history as the first civilian to enter
space, she did not know she would forever be remembered in connection with such
an awful, tragic moment in U.S. history.
It was the first
space launch watched by scores of school-aged children. It was an occasion teachers across the
country wanted their children to be a part of this moment in time, not knowing
what horrible images with which they’d be left.
Children who were old enough to recognize the gravity of the situation
yet were still young enough with limited life experience to be able to
completely cope with the explosion were left with questions, concerns…
nightmares.
And in all of
that, that apple – red and shiny, crisp and beautiful – handed to her before
they entered the shuttle is an enduring image of childhood. It is something innocent, familiar… a
comforting picture from everyone’s childhood – an apple for the teacher.
