my 12-year-old self
As part of my morning routine, I keep the television running in the background while I search for matching socks and attempt to tame my hair into submission before heading off to work. I rarely find myself paying attention to anything on “The Today Show” unless it involves weather, an idiotic political debacle or some kind of pop culture reference. This morning, however, I found myself leaning backward out of the bathroom to catch a glimpse of the flat screen while balancing a mascara wand in one hand and a Kleenex gripped in the other.
Today marks the 25th anniversary of the space shuttle Challenger disaster. As the internet lights up with recollections of bloggers around the country (and world) who can cite their whereabouts on this specific time and date more than two decades ago, I find I’m no different. I remember with perfect clarity sitting on the outskirts of my classroom at 12 years of age being perfectly excited not only to be getting out of our normal lesson routines but to watch a historic shuttle launch. I recall watching some of the teachers, who were undoubtedly projecting their pride and awe that one of their own, Christa McAuliffe, was to be the first female public educator to shoot off into outer space.
What was interesting to me, at the time and now, was how I internalized watching female astronauts making the walk into the shuttle and thinking that I could do anything. I didn’t go home and proclaim that I wanted to become an astronaut, because we all know what happened 73 seconds into the launch. What I took from that experience as an impressionable younger version of myself was that even if I were stuck in suburbia, or in a job that was less than glamorous, that bigger dreams are still attainable. A teacher was going into outer space! When she was going over test papers and student teaching, did she ever believe she would be an astronaut?
There’s a lesson here that I take from my 12-year-old self: it’s not too late to be interested in new things, to try new things, to channel your creativity or secret passions into a much grander scale. Life is interesting, full of tragedy and triumph, success and failure, happiness and sadness. But I figure if I’m experiencing the full range of emotions and slogging forward with hope in my heart and a renewed sense of what that 12-year-old dreamed about doing, then I’ve got a great chance of experiencing spectacular moments and quiet contemplation.
Today marks the 25th anniversary of the space shuttle Challenger disaster. As the internet lights up with recollections of bloggers around the country (and world) who can cite their whereabouts on this specific time and date more than two decades ago, I find I’m no different. I remember with perfect clarity sitting on the outskirts of my classroom at 12 years of age being perfectly excited not only to be getting out of our normal lesson routines but to watch a historic shuttle launch. I recall watching some of the teachers, who were undoubtedly projecting their pride and awe that one of their own, Christa McAuliffe, was to be the first female public educator to shoot off into outer space.
What was interesting to me, at the time and now, was how I internalized watching female astronauts making the walk into the shuttle and thinking that I could do anything. I didn’t go home and proclaim that I wanted to become an astronaut, because we all know what happened 73 seconds into the launch. What I took from that experience as an impressionable younger version of myself was that even if I were stuck in suburbia, or in a job that was less than glamorous, that bigger dreams are still attainable. A teacher was going into outer space! When she was going over test papers and student teaching, did she ever believe she would be an astronaut?
There’s a lesson here that I take from my 12-year-old self: it’s not too late to be interested in new things, to try new things, to channel your creativity or secret passions into a much grander scale. Life is interesting, full of tragedy and triumph, success and failure, happiness and sadness. But I figure if I’m experiencing the full range of emotions and slogging forward with hope in my heart and a renewed sense of what that 12-year-old dreamed about doing, then I’ve got a great chance of experiencing spectacular moments and quiet contemplation.
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