(no subject)
Twenty five years ago today I was sitting in Mrs. Isaacson's classroom. I hated that woman. i can't particularly tell you why now, but i remember that without a doubt she was pure evil. She made us memorize poems and stuff, like Little Orphan Annie, which I can still recite today and a copy of which hangs at my desk. And she read us this story called the Third Level, but a guy whose writing i now adore and read to others storytime style. oh sure, she's stuck with me in some positive aspects, but believe you me, she was evil. i think.
Mrs. Isaacson was not my normal teacher. i went to her classroom for english and something else, but I can't remeber what. It was 1986 and tracking was the fad in teaching then. i was in the high reading track, which i think had some stup[id name like "keystones" or some bullshit. i think they just took the names fromt he textbooks we used. All I know is that I was super smart and to further punish the smart kids they sent us to Mrs Isaacson. because being ostrasized by the rest of the school district wasn't enough.
Back in the day they were sending up space shuttles as frequently as a whore gives out clamidia, so another launch wasn't really a big deal. Sure this one had a teacher on it, but it wasn't mrs isaacson being shot into space, so we didn't really give a hoot. (we were ten and weren't allowed to not give a "damn" yet.) Televisions had VCRs with them and got wheeled into your classrooms for special occassions instead of being regular fixtures alongside desks and chalkboards. So when the pricipal wheeled in a tv unannounced AND had tears in her eyes, we knew something had happened.
I was ten years old. i knew my uncle worked on the space shuttle and i knew the space shuttle had just blown up. I knew he wasn't inside the challenger, but I wasn't sure if he'd be hit by big flaming peices of metal falling from the sky. I was ten years old....and a little stupid. Still, it was a tragedy and one that hit a little close to home for me. It took the adults a little while to figure out what they wanted to do and mobilize the bus system, but by lunch, they had shut down the schools and sent us home. I remember sitting on the floor in the basement family room glued to the coverage and watching the replay over and over. i spent most of the afternoon crying.
Televised Tragedy. Even then i knew that the day would be burned in my brain forever. The challenger explosion would be the Kennedy assaination of my generation. A day we would trade "where were you when you heard" stories about for the rest of our lives. A day that would be superceded on 9/11.
And now with the Blog-o-sphere, it seems everyone has the time and place to post their reflections on that day twenty five years ago. I might not have even noticed until i turned on the radio today except for a facebook friend changing his profile pic and status update. this is how I find out about the world now. the world is so different from 1986. i took a moment yesterday to find a photo of the challenger lift off before the explosion and apply it as my computer's desktop background. Then I turned my chair back around and got back to work editing and cross referenceing and double checking part numbers.
Part numbers for o-rings.
O rings.
Somedays my job is nothing but drugery and monotony. and somedays i get reminded that there are people on the other end of those part numbers.
Mrs. Isaacson was not my normal teacher. i went to her classroom for english and something else, but I can't remeber what. It was 1986 and tracking was the fad in teaching then. i was in the high reading track, which i think had some stup[id name like "keystones" or some bullshit. i think they just took the names fromt he textbooks we used. All I know is that I was super smart and to further punish the smart kids they sent us to Mrs Isaacson. because being ostrasized by the rest of the school district wasn't enough.
Back in the day they were sending up space shuttles as frequently as a whore gives out clamidia, so another launch wasn't really a big deal. Sure this one had a teacher on it, but it wasn't mrs isaacson being shot into space, so we didn't really give a hoot. (we were ten and weren't allowed to not give a "damn" yet.) Televisions had VCRs with them and got wheeled into your classrooms for special occassions instead of being regular fixtures alongside desks and chalkboards. So when the pricipal wheeled in a tv unannounced AND had tears in her eyes, we knew something had happened.
I was ten years old. i knew my uncle worked on the space shuttle and i knew the space shuttle had just blown up. I knew he wasn't inside the challenger, but I wasn't sure if he'd be hit by big flaming peices of metal falling from the sky. I was ten years old....and a little stupid. Still, it was a tragedy and one that hit a little close to home for me. It took the adults a little while to figure out what they wanted to do and mobilize the bus system, but by lunch, they had shut down the schools and sent us home. I remember sitting on the floor in the basement family room glued to the coverage and watching the replay over and over. i spent most of the afternoon crying.
Televised Tragedy. Even then i knew that the day would be burned in my brain forever. The challenger explosion would be the Kennedy assaination of my generation. A day we would trade "where were you when you heard" stories about for the rest of our lives. A day that would be superceded on 9/11.
And now with the Blog-o-sphere, it seems everyone has the time and place to post their reflections on that day twenty five years ago. I might not have even noticed until i turned on the radio today except for a facebook friend changing his profile pic and status update. this is how I find out about the world now. the world is so different from 1986. i took a moment yesterday to find a photo of the challenger lift off before the explosion and apply it as my computer's desktop background. Then I turned my chair back around and got back to work editing and cross referenceing and double checking part numbers.
Part numbers for o-rings.
O rings.
Somedays my job is nothing but drugery and monotony. and somedays i get reminded that there are people on the other end of those part numbers.