It was a cool day, but not for January. I remember that because many of us at Maplecrest Elementary School were outside for recess. Considering how most of the winters are in Missouri, having recess outside was not the norm.
As we did on many days from November through March, most of us as fourth-graders were on the court playing basketball, hurling shots at an eight-foot goal and running around like Sandy Lyle in “Along Came Polly.”
The bell sounded to end our 15-minute break, and a wave of children raced for the warmth of our cozy school in Lebanon. Like many of my classmates, I sprinted (as much as a chubby 9-year-old could) because we had a rare treat in store after recess.
On that day, Jan. 28, 1986, many of the students at Maplecrest were going to watch something pretty cool: A space shuttle hurtling through the sky, with the first school teacher in tow. For a fourth-grader, it checked all the boxes: 1. We didn’t have to do work during school. 2. We got to watch TV. 3. It’s the space shuttle. 4. A teacher, Christa McAuliffe, was on the mission.
As I ran across the court and down the small hill south of our school, a boy from another class stopped several of us. Short of breath and serious, he said, “The Challenger exploded.”
There was no TV at school that day. I don’t remember if our teacher, Ms. Matthews, said much about the tragedy. We trudged through the rest of the day before heading home on a parade of school buses.
I remember the mood at school being somber. I didn’t understand how big a deal it was until I got home and my parents, who rarely spent much time away from work before dinner, were glued to our old-school TV screen.
Back in those days, virtually everybody had three channels. The big three — ABC, NBC and CBS — had nonstop coverage of the Challenger Disaster from the time it happened through the rest of the day and beyond. People forget that CNN, who few people had access to, was the only station that carried the launch live.
It was the first time I saw my parents upset about national news, and it was the first time I’d seen our nation mourn. It was one of those defining moments every generation has.
Through the years, as Jan. 28 approaches, I always think about that day. I remember looking at the sky after hearing what had happened. It was a bright, clear blue sky, and it was sunny.
I can still see the looks on my classmates’ faces. They were looks of shock and disappointment. I can still see my Dad and Mom shaking their heads as they watched the footage of the shuttle exploding.
There have been other defining moments for Gen X. Various sites list the collapse of the Berlin Wall, Watergate, the Iranian hostage crisis and other events. But none of those had a bigger impact on me. As a 9-year-old, it was when I realized truly awful things do happen. It was the proverbial end of innocence.
