The Editor's Note in the UGA Newspaper today began with the following line. "I don't remember Challenger." Well I do.

But only a handful of people seem to. Other than Megan being born, the Challenger is my first real memory. I mean I have a handful of memories like snap-shots. I picture here, a moment there. From growing up around my family, or at church, or at preschool. But an actual memory; with movement and sound; Challenger is the second. And it is certainly the first memory that I have of anything that wasn't in my imediate life. January 28, 1986.... I guess I would've been 4 at the time. I was at Grandmama's house that day. I don't really remember why. But I do remember that we were about to start watching Sesame Street when there was an interruption. The news came on and, although I have no real recollection of what was said, I do vividly remember the pictures, the video of the shuttle launching and then exploding.

I guess that even though I remember the actual event, I was still far too young to extrapolate any real meaning from it. The only way that I found to connect with the explosion was through one of the astronauts. I don't at all remember her name, but I remember that she was a Teacher. I was able to feel that huge blow to the country, if only by nature of the fact that I, too, had a teacher.

The point of the article in the Red and Black today was that no one of our generation is in any position to know what kind of slump NASA is about to go through, since we weren't aware of such things 17 years ago...... but honestly, who cares about that. With a freak accident, several people lost their lives. That should be the story, not some dip in NASA's productivity. I find that, at 21, the best response I can still come up with is my first one.

"She was a Teacher.....[we too, have] teachers."