The way I remember it, I didn't watch the Challenger disaster live. My third grade teacher had had a TV wheeled into the classroom the previous day, but when that launch was scrubbed, she decided not to bother the next morning, much to the class' chagrin.
It was only at lunchtime that we began to hear rumors about the tragedy that unfolded. Even in the absence of that specific memory, January 28, 1986, is burnt into my brain as it is for most people of my generation.
It was our televised loss of innocence, a shared trauma in its own way like 9/11 or the Kennedy assassination. That iconic wheeled-in boxy television from the AV room, a symbol of lecture-free excitement for decades of school children, is one of the opening images of.
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