Jacqueline’s Space: The Legacy of Christa McAuliffe

I’m often asked what first piqued my interest in astronomy and space travel. I’ll normally answer something about the beauty of nature or the wonder of exploration, but, deep down, I know the answer is Christa McAuliffe. 

My dad skipped class to watch the Challenger Space Shuttle launch from the small box television in his apartment on Jan. 28, 1986. Across the country, eyes turned to watch the bright and enthusiastic Christa McAuliffe, a 37-year-old teacher, who was sitting aboard the shuttle at Cape Canaveral, Florida, just minutes away from becoming the first ordinary U.S. civilian to travel to space.

But 73 seconds into launch, with the shuttle 46,000 feet above ground, an explosion ripped across the TV screen. Slumped on the couch with his feet on the old coffee table in front of him, my dad sat stunned but certain a parachute or some other safety mechanism would carry them down without problems. 

It wasn’t until the afternoon that what happened became clear: the seven astronauts had been sent on a free fall towards the Atlantic Ocean. McAuliffe, the teacher in space – my dad’s former teacher – had not survived. 

My dad took McAuliffe’s eighth grade English class at Bow Memorial School in 1979. She was tough and strict, with high expectations. The students had to write journals about current events. She required class participation. But McAuliffe became, undoubtedly, my dad’s favorite teacher.

He took her again for ninth grade English. When she began teaching at Concord High School in 1982, my dad took every class he could with her: American culture, American foreign policy, economics and sociology. 

He was drawn to her classes because she deeply cared about the subjects and her students. During his senior year, my dad asked her to write his college recommendation letter.

The next year, she was chosen out of an applicant pool of over 11,000 to go to space. Two years later, as my dad watched from his college apartment, McAuliffe’s story ended in tragedy. The deaths of the seven astronauts, and especially the beloved teacher, shocked the nation.

There were people seriously at fault for the disaster. It should not have happened. It was the beginning of the end for the space shuttle program.

But I don’t want that to be her legacy. 

I’ve always felt an odd connection with McAuliffe. Before I could even comprehend the reality of space, I knew this story. When we talked about space in first grade, I shared her story with my class. My dad always told me I reminded him of  McAuliffe because of my zest and goal-oriented personality. 

Reflecting, it seems strange that a young girl would be so enthralled by a story with such tragedy. But the tragedy was never what drew me to the story. As much as she became front page news, what always struck me was that, at the same time, her story was so simple. 

She was my dad’s history and English teacher. She loved her students. She loved to teach. Christa McAuliffe was simply an ordinary woman enveloped and moved by excitement for life.

She was able to go to NASA, train with astronauts, prepare lessons to teach in space and capture the heart of a nation, but, at the end of the day, she was a teacher — plain and simple.  

And such a teacher never really stops teaching, even posthumously. She has inspired another generation of dreamers, educators, scientists and astronauts. If she could go to space, that means I can, too. 

Hale is the editor-in-chief. Follow her on Twitter at @HaleJacquelineR.