Daniel's Trip to NASA, Part 2

When I arrived to the Visitor Complex on the 20th of July, exactly fifty years after man first landed on the Moon, I must say that I was pretty disappointed. I was hoping that NASA might invite some Apollo-era guest speakers for a public event, or put some special Apollo 11 artifacts on display. Instead, the Visitor Complex had a tiny hula-hooping contest and a field of some 60s-era cars. Now, I can’t claim that I was surprised or misled. The Kennedy Space Center website was very upfront about the events it was hosting to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of Apollo 11, so I knew in advance that the Visitor Complex wasn’t doing anything huge on July 20th. But, I still clung to some naive hope that I might be pleasantly surprised — perhaps Buzz Aldrin would drop in for an unscheduled speech. But alas, no luck.

The antique cars. They also had Armstrong's personal car at the front of the Complex.

That’s not to say that the Visitor Complex had no special events celebrating Apollo 11. On the 16th of July (the fiftieth anniversary of the launch of Apollo 11), there was a “Launch Flashback Event” which included a bus tour around the Space Center and couple Apollo-era guests. That event, however, was $175, so it was only accessible to die-hard space enthusiasts willing to shell out that kind of money. There was also a Duran Duran concert in the evening for another $99. Then, on the 20th, there was a “Lunar Landing Add-On Enhancement” where you could view Moon landing footage in a catered conference room for $50. That one sold out before I could consider if it was worthwhile to buy a ticket.

So, while the Visitor Complex had a few Apollo 11 celebrations, I was surprised that NASA didn’t treat it like a bigger deal. The Moon landing is, to some, the most iconic moment in American history, and it is certainly the most iconic moment in NASA’s history. I thought that NASA would want to go all-out in celebrating the fiftieth anniversary of Apollo 11, especially as a way to reinvigorate public interest in the agency. Instead, it felt like NASA gave half-hearted attention to the Moon landing. Again, this is just my perception, based mainly on what I saw at the KSC Visitor Complex; I’m not fully aware of what events NASA may have hosted at its other locations, such as those in Houston and Washington, DC. Furthermore, I can’t really blame NASA for not celebrating the fiftieth anniversary in the specific way that I would’ve wanted them to. (I was mainly just hoping for cool guest speakers.)

Nothing commemorates the Moon landing better than four hula hoops and one DJ tent.

But, in addition to what I saw (or didn’t see) at the Visitor Complex, I was also struck by the fact that NASA was willing to lease out the historic Launchpad 39A to SpaceX and let them completely remodel it. 39A was the launchpad for Apollo 4, 6, 8, 9, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, and 17, as well as many other missions; I would’ve thought that by now it would be an officially-designated historic landmark. Instead, it currently bears the logo of SpaceX and looks completely different from how it did during the Apollo-era.

SpaceX's "sleek" redesign of Launchpad 39A.

So, standing in the Visitor Complex on July 20th, I wound up asking myself a difficult question: does NASA care about its history?

This is, obviously, a complex question that really requires a research paper instead of a blog post. But if I were to hypothetically write that paper, I’d probably begin by analyzing the culture at NASA. Do the (primarily) STEM-educated people who work there have a disdain for the humanities and social sciences, including history? Or, perhaps, I’d base my analysis on money. How much of NASA’s budget goes to its History Division? Is the agency well-funded enough to care about its history, or must it focus on the missions and goals of the future? I think this is an important subject, and I might return to it in the future.

However, it’s also worth noting that the Kennedy Space Center Visitor Complex is technically run by a private company called Delaware North, not NASA itself. This distinction was made clear to me when I tried to present a launch ticket that NASA had sent me at the Visitor Complex information booth. The woman working there said something along the lines of “We don’t do anything with NASA directly.” I then became curious about this Delaware North / NASA relationship. Is it Delaware North that I should be disappointed with regarding the lackluster celebrations on July 20th? And who designs the exhibits at the Visitor Complex: Delaware North, or NASA? I couldn’t find much written online about this relationship, so I talked to one of NASA’s Communicators who works at the Complex. He said that Delaware North is responsible for the business side of the Complex, making sure everything runs smoothly. The exhibits, though, are still designed by NASA itself, and the events at the Complex are typically scheduled by NASA as well.

So, with the confirmation that NASA is indeed responsible for the exhibits at the Visitor Complex, I decided to focus on one specific exhibit and perform a deeper analysis. Specifically, I wanted to observe how NASA communicates its history and goals to the public in an engaging and easy-to-understand way. (Analyzing how science is communicated is particularly interesting to me as someone who makes educational YouTube videos.) So, on the 21st of July, I spent several hours taking notes on the Space Shuttle Atlantis exhibit. It’s one of the newest exhibits at the Visitor Complex, and, with a price tag of $100 million, it’s likely the most expensive. This exhibit is on the far end of the Complex, but visitors are beckoned there by the giant orange model of the Space Shuttle rocket which can be seen from any part of the Complex.

If my math is right, then the real Space Shuttle rocket isn't as big as this giant model.

After passing under the rocket model and through the doors to the exhibit, you then proceed up a ramp. On the walls going up the ramp are numerous quotes about the Space Shuttle, including “It is an extraordinary flying machine, the most extraordinary that man has ever built” and “When I saw that Shuttle take off at dusk, it was the most unbelievable experience.” As far as the design of the exhibit, it makes sense to include brief quotes along these walls, as people only have the time to read a sentence or two every few yards as they move continuously up the ramp to the main exhibit. But furthermore, these opening quotes set the tone of the exhibit: what you are about to see is going to be extraordinary, unbelievable, and “one of the greatest engineering accomplishments” of all time. Prepare to be amazed.

Another one of those quotes.

Once at the top of the ramp, you enter a room where the first of two six-minute videos will be shown. The room can get crowded, and only has a few benches along the back walls, so most people choose to sit on the floor. The first video is a fictionalized history of the Space Shuttle program, where actors portray various NASA engineers asked to design a vehicle that can take off like a rocket and land like an airplane. The film emphasizes that this is a very difficult task of engineering, showing the numerous pitfalls along the way, which further bolsters the idea that the Space Shuttle is an extraordinary machine like none other before it. The engineers in the short film are portrayed by men and women of all races, and while I think this is helpful for young visitors to see, it also blurs the unfortunate fact that NASA has been historically dominated by white men until very recently.

The second short film includes real footage of Space Shuttle launches and landings. When it ends, the screen lifts up to reveal the main exhibit: a massive room with the Space Shuttle Atlantis hanging from the ceiling. One of the interesting parts of the exhibit is that, up to this point, it has not been clear that you are going to see the real Atlantis. This surprising turn of events adds to the sense of awe that the exhibit has been trying to evoke from the start.

The grand unveiling, dramatic music and all.

Around the walls of the Atlantis exhibit are colorful information panels that combine images with text. One section includes information about the Shuttle’s engineering, from the heat of the engines to the chemical composition of the fuel. Another area discusses the Hubble Space Telescope, and how the Shuttle program was essential to keep it running. I noticed that these information panels generally include three main types of text. First is the huge header text that says what the panel will be about; if you’re walking quickly around the exhibit, this is the first thing you’d see, and if the title seems interesting you may stop to read the whole thing. Next we have the medium-sized text, which has one or two sentences of key information. This is probably as far as most people get before getting bored and moving on, so the exhibit designers have to do their best to provide all the most important info here. Then, there’s the tiny text that goes into even greater detail, often in full paragraphs. This is likely only read by the true space enthusiasts; even I found myself skimming these sections.

This panel does a good job at illustrating what I mean.

In addition to that, some panels also include little text boxes which begin with “Hey grade schoolers!” or “Hey middle schoolers!” or “Hey high schoolers!” Those boxes generally feature a scientific fact related to the Shuttle program written to be understandable to that specific age group. While I appreciate the attempt to make science understandable to younger audiences, I don’t really get this approach. If I’m a middle schooler, and I see a box saying it’s for grade schoolers, I might feel like I should ignore it. So, I think another header might have worked better, like “Hey, young scientists!” Plus, the text in these boxes was too small; most kids will ignore them altogether. I did, however, appreciate the other little boxes labelled “Space Geek Facts.” These were slightly more advanced scientific fun facts about the Space Shuttle. Teens and adults were probably the target audience for these boxes, so it made sense for the text to be on the smaller side.

This panel had both a "Hey, Grade Schoolers!" (dark blue) and a Space Geek Fact (light blue).

Besides information panels, any modern museum exhibit would be incomplete without many interactive elements, especially if that exhibit is designed to be inclusive to kids. The Atlantis exhibit had plenty of these elements, from touch screens with information about specific Space Shuttle missions to round enclosures that detect the motions of people’s arms so they can practice performing spacewalks on a screen. This latter interactive element drew long lines of children, more so than any other part of the exhibit.

A zoomed-out view of part of the Atlantis exhibit.

All this is just what I observed about the top floor of the exhibit. The main thing I noticed about the bottom floor was that it increased the amount of interactive elements compared to the top floor. I think this makes a lot of sense, since many people be getting bored by the time they reach the bottom, and will only be interested in interactive and visually-stimulating exhibit pieces. The bottom floor also leads you to a Space Shuttle simulator. Like any thorough researcher, I decided to try out the simulator myself. It was a really cool experience; they strap you to a chair in a moving room with about twenty other people, and then flip the whole room up and down to simulate a Space Shuttle launch. So, overall, the bottom floor continued the trend of trying to induce awe and excitement towards the Shuttle Program.

I enjoyed the time I spent analyzing the exhibit; I learned a lot about NASA's approach to science communication. Then, yesterday, I attended lunch with an astronaut. Astronaut lunches are hosted almost every day at the Visitor Complex (for an added fee), with the specific astronaut switching out every few days. On the 22nd, it was Marcos Pontes, Brazil’s first ever astronaut. I wasn’t sure at first how many tickets are sold to each lunch; I knew it wasn’t a one-on-one thing, but I thought maybe I would be in a conference room with about 50 other people. In reality, the event was held in a dining hall with over 200 people in attendance, mostly families with young kids. So, while it was a pretty impersonal event, I’m still glad I went, as I got the chance to examine yet another aspect of how NASA interacts with the public.

A small part of Pontes' lunchtime presentation.

Pontes was an interesting speaker. He talked about his youth in Brazil, and how other kids told him that only the wealthy can become pilots, but his mother encouraged him nonetheless — the sort of stuff you’d expect to hear in an astronaut biopic. He encouraged all the young people in the room to work hard and follow their dreams, which is obviously a bit of a cliche, but I felt that he meant it. He then spoke for a while about life in space, from eating, to sleeping, to going to the bathroom. At the end, there was time for about six or seven questions. The moderator primarily called on the young kids, as I would have. The kids mostly asked Pontes more specifics about daily life in space; one asked, “Is there bread in space?” and another inquired, “Do you live in space?”

The event concluded with a line to take photographs with Pontes. I got one, and it turned out nicely. I said “Obrigado” on my way out (which is about the full extent of my Portuguese), to which Pontes responded “De nada.”

Me and Marcos.

Today, I’m taking some time to prepare for my interview with docent Bob Granath tomorrow. I was just reading the latest Time magazine cover story about the new “Space Race” between various nations and private space companies. It’s a fascinating article, and I look forward to asking Bob his thoughts. Unfortunately, things aren’t looking good for the launch scheduled for tomorrow, as there’s likely to be a thunderstorm. But maybe some good luck will come through — I’ll keep hoping!