I know that I watched it, but I have no memory of doing so, as it happened the day before my first birthday.
I was almost two at the time. I don’t remember anything either.
I guess 9/11 is the thing our generation will say “I was sitting in the classroom when. . .” about.
I was at home in Rosamond, CA which is just a few miles from Edwards AFB. I grew up there and always had the “space junkie” mentality (still do). My then-husband was at work: Rockwell in Palmdale, CA. He was a jig and fixture builder, and had installed the heads-up display in all of the shuttles then operating (plus Enterprise). I just sat there, watching in disbelief. I kept thinking that somehow, on the replay, it was going to be different. I just felt sick.
When my husband got home that night, he said it was like a tomb at work. Everyone was talking in whispers, and basically no work got done. He was just devastated. It seemed like everyone involved in that project had a personal stake in it.
My Dad and I had gone to Florida to watch the shuttle launch. My Dad was a sales VP and used to take me with him on business trips when he went interesting places. We always went down to see shuttles take off. It’s very cool and unbelievably loud, even from the mile away you have to be.
Anyway, for some reason we ended up not being able to go after all. The crowds? My Dad’s meeting? I don’t remember, as I was only about 6. I really don’t remember where I was, but I remember I was supposed to see it live. Ask my Dad, though, and he was profoundly grateful that his small daughter did not have to see that live.
I was at work in Oshawa, in the drafting room, drawing cabinetry in ink on mylar (it was a small shop, and a little behind the times). It was quarter to 12. The radio was on, some inoffensive music station (I think it was the CBC, or maybe CHFI). The announcer broke into the broadcast with a note that there was an incident at the suttle launch, more details soon. Then the noon news came on and we found out what happened.
I cut out the editorial cartoon that the Toronto Star printed the next day, and stuck it in my sketchbook. I still have it.
I was at home ill, and was on the SDMB when I found out about 9/11.
I was in 4th Grade. my teacher was asked to leave the room for a moment and she came back teary-eyed. We asked her what was wrong, but she wasn’t allowed to tell us. The school administration actually kept it from us.
We found out when we got home. I watched it over and over with my dad and cursed the teachers who didn’t tell us that something that momentous had happened. Shortly thereafter we got a new principal. Coincidence? I think not.
There were a lot of touching cartoons about that. I remember one, and wish I had kept it. It depicted a ladder, reaching out into a starry night sky. Each rung of the ladder had a name on it, all of them astronauts or cosmonauts who had died in space related accidents. The last seven rungs, of course, had the names of the Challenger crew.
I was in Air Force basic training, Lackland AFB, Texas. I remember having some business in the CQ office (the administrative offices for each flight), and seeing it on the TV there. The protestant Sunday services were always emotional as it was there, and were even more so that following Sunday.
I was watching the launch over breakfast. I went and dug out a Bible, when I could finally tear myself from the TV. The momentary hope that the Shuttle managed to break away, then…numbness.
I walked through my college classes that day in a daze. Finally, my advisor saw me sitting in a hallway weeping and told me to go home.
“High Flight” was recited by the TVNews anchor that night as a signoff. I cried. I still do when I hear it and think of that day.
I was at home - there was a teacher’s inservice that day so I was at home with my mother and younger brother (he started Kindergarten the next fall). I don’t know about my older brothers - they were in HS, and may not have had the day off.
We didn’t watch the launch, but my grandmother called shortly afterward to tell mom and we changed the channel over to see the replay.
I was in fourth grade, but wasn’t in school that day because the next day I was scheduled for major back surgery. We’d moved from the city where the hospital was a year ago, so I was visiting my former school that day.
My third grade teacher came out of the teacher’s lounge (we’d been told she was in there), said, “The shuttle just blew up,” and my mom and I went in there after her to watch. Awful.
I’m a second-generation space junkie (Mom was first). It really annoys me that my biggest space-related memory is the Challenger, while hers is the landing on the moon. We should get our butts in gear and do this space thing right if we’re going to do it at all. And I don’t want us to not do it at all.
My recollection was that of walking through the halls, coming back from the bathroom on a pass (I was in 3rd grade). I then came into the classroom, where all the TVs were on, and I came in just in time for launch… and off we go.
However, after taking a Cognitive Studies course in college, I can’t be sure that’s actually where I was. My professor mentioned that our recollection of high-stress events is horribly bad. They took the Challenger incident when it happened to run a test. The professor asked for volunteers to write an essay describing where they were and what they were doing during the explosion (or when they found out). This initial essay was conducted about a week after the incident. 10 years later, they contacted a number of the students through alumni contact lists and asked them to continue their part in the study and submit essays detailing the same thing.
Not only did the two essays (one from a week after and one 10 years after) contain discrepancies…in some instances, the two ‘recollections’ were so far apart that they couldn’t even be considered similar. Over the course of 10 years, countless replayings of the TV feed, discussion, and time passage, people tend to concoct horribly altered memories of these types of events. No matter how strongly you may believe you are correct, chances are, it didn’t happen like that.
When 9-11 happened, to make sure this didn’t happen to me, I wrote a very detailed account of my feelings and reactions of the entire day in my journal that night…I know it’s accurate! 
I was in fifth grade, but I had stayed home sick from school that day. The TV was on, of course – I was probably watching a talk show or sitcom reruns or whatever was on at that time of day. Suddenly the “Special Report” logo flashed on the screen. I remember hearing that the Challenger had exploded, but for some reason I didn’t grasp the seriousness of it right away. Why, I don’t know. In hindsight that seems unbelievable naive. I guess I thought the astronauts would be OK.
I shouted downstairs to my mom that the space shuttle had exploded. I heard her yell “WHAT?!” as she raced for the nearest TV. I went downstairs to be with her. We watched the picture of that forked trail of white smoke, over and over again. Mom started crying and telling me that maybe the astonauts would land in the water and be able to survive. I started crying, too. That was the point when I finally grasped how horrible it was.
When it actually happened, I was on the bus on the way to school (it was my freshman year at GMU). I didn’t know anything about it until I was sitting in history class in Thompson Hall and some guys ran past in the corridor, yelling something about the space shuttle exploding. The class continued as normal following that, but afterwards I made my way to the Student Union and saw everyone gathered around the TV. As I walked home from the bus stop that evening around sunset (the sidewalk was difficult to negotiate because of footprints hardened into Himalayas of ice), I wondered if they would have figured out what caused it yet by dinnertime.
I was a senior in high school, in the locker room either before or after gym.
That’s probably because y’all were so close to the action, what with the alternate in your school. The majority of the people sent home on 9/11 were either workers in NYC or government employees in the DC area, in case their building was next.
While it didn’t literally explode, what happened does fit Webster’s definition of “explode”.
I was working out in the gym at my college. There was a radio on and they broke in with the news. Even the muscle heads stopped what they were doing and listened.
I was in the moving business back then. I had a crew moving HHG out of a town house in So. Cal., the San Diego area I think. A woman came running out of a neighboring townhouse in her housecoat. She was shading her eyes ane looking up into the sky. She then turned to us and told us that the shuttle had exploded, apparently she thought she could see it?
We went into the customers home and watched the TV for a few minutes, before getting back to work.
I remember feeling especially bad for Christa McAuliffe, since she was a civilian volunteer and not a professional astronaut. It was the chance of a lifetime for her and it ended by taking her life.
I had the day off. Back then, I only went to school three days a week. When it actually happened, I was out buying, well, never mind what I was buying. The guy selling it didn’t have the TV on, though. I saw it when I got home, over and over and over, while Dan Rather tried to come up with something else to say.
Meanwhile, in Geneseo, the future ex-Mrs saoirse was getting a call from her grandmother to tell her that her aunt’s stepson had died.
I don’t remember exactly where I was when I heard about it, but I was in second grade, and I think I remember my mother telling me that it was on the news that the space shuttle with the first teacher in space had exploded.
I mostly remember the next day in school, everyone talking about it in hushed whispers. Our gym teacher wouldn’t let us talk about it. She kept saying, “Just don’t…just don’t mention it.”