September, 1988…

Standing outside Ms. Byrd’s third-grade classroom at Audubon Elementary in Merritt Island, Florida, my body shook and tears rolled down my cheeks.

I felt the sweetness of her reassuring voice as Ms. Byrd stepped closer to me, letting her classroom door gently close behind her when my body began its undoing in the outdoor hallway of this Brevard County public school.

I clicked into my brain, readjusted my shoulders, and reminded myself of the importance of performance. After all, this experience was not unfamiliar to me, and if being a new student was a profession, I was already an expert in the field.

I knew I wouldn’t be there long. I knew making new friends would only leave me with heartbreak. I was still grieving the friends I’d left at all five of the schools that came before this one.

By this time in my life, endings were only slammed doors… never gently closed ones like the one behind Ms. Byrd. I didn’t know the existence of a proper goodbye, but my hello- until this moment- was polished, professional, and experienced.

I eventually made my way into Ms. Byrd’s classroom and almost instantly impressed her with my math skills. Oddly enough, this was the beginning and end of me ever impressing anyone with math. It was new-kid luck. Public education required overall coverage of the same curriculum; however, the units weren’t always done in the same order. I’d covered this unit just a few weeks prior at my former school.

The chatter in the classroom was mostly about Space Shuttle Discovery’s upcoming Thursday launch. This return-to-flight mission was set to take place just 10 miles from the school, and many of the kids were still reeling from seeing Challenger explode above them back in first grade.

Like many of my new classmates, I stayed home that Thursday morning and experienced Discovery going up while standing in my front yard as families gathered close to home for this historic moment.

There I stood at 11:37 a.m., watching a rising shuttle in front of me and hearing its audible roar from neighboring Kennedy Space Center Launch Complex 39.

My body shook and tears rolled down my cheeks. Again.

I returned to school with the same life experience as my classmates, united in the understanding that we had the coolest seats at the coolest show in the world.

And so I was free to be me again.

Free in the classroom, free in the lunchroom, and free on the playground- holding the hand of a long-forgotten friend as we danced to the previous summer’s hit, ‘Kokomo,’ by The Beach Boys.

‘Aruba, Jamaica, ooh, I wanna take ya

Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama…’

And then I left.

All in the month of September, 1988.