How It Happened

         July 20, 1984. Peoria, Illinois. It was like any other Friday evening for anyone else, but for me, it was the beginning of something great. I don’t know exactly what happened that magical day, but the result was what made me believe life is worth living. Without that day in history, I don’t think I’d be here today. It’s sad to think about, but July 20, 1984 was the first day I ever actually felt alive. Before then, I tended to curl up in the fetal position and hide from my problems. That all changed that fateful night.
         Fast forward five years and a month or so. Kindergarten, first day. I was scared, yes, but I was excited. I remember that day more than any other day of my early school years. I got there and met my teacher, who seemed nice enough. One kid cried for his mom like four times. He went on to do the same at the beginning of first and second grade too. He grew out of it later.
         Three times that day, I experienced my first set of recesses. Recess was fun. I got to be on big swings and the merry-go-round and a slide that was like a hundred feet long. I was so amazed at all the fun stuff to do at school. Then, I got what I thought was free food. A whole tray of food all for myself, and a huge carton of milk. It had to be at least a million gallons of chocolate milk. I didn’t think I could drink it all. I can’t remember exactly what else I had for lunch, but I remember it was a lot of food for a five year old. It was like a buffet right in front of me. What more could I ask for?
         Later on, I experienced nap-time. The teacher read a story to us as we laid down on our mats with the lights off and the window shades open. I don’t know who actually slept, if anyone, but we got to lay on the floor for what seemed like forever. Forever, back when forever was a good time to do anything.
         After, or maybe before nap-time, we got play-time. I can’t remember the order it was all in, but I remember a big toy chest. All of us got to pick out one toy to play with and we had to sit on the carpet and play for a while. I’m not sure exactly what I picked, but I think it was a big truck. I know that’s what I picked other times at least.
         During play-time, I discovered the domineering spirit in myself. If I wanted a toy that someone else had, I took it and gave them another one. I wasn’t a bully, I didn’t take their toys and run. I got another toy out and gave it to them, then took their toy and ran. The teacher told my parents I was too bossy. I even tended to boss the teacher around if I didn’t get what I wanted. I wasn’t much of a discipline problem, but I did seem to talk an awful lot.
         Near the end of the day, every day of Kindergarten, I experienced the joy of joys, snack time. Every day, a different kid brought in snacks for the class. The teacher brought them the first day, possibly the first week. An older kid brought in the same huge milks from lunch for everyone in the class. Naturally, I took two for myself, even though we were only supposed to get one. I don’t remember the specific snack from the first day, but I remember early in the year, I was introduced to the heavenly oatmeal cream pie and the divine fudge round. There were always extras in the box, and me, being the assertive child I am, always seemed to get one of them.
         After snack time, we put on our back-packs and lined up at the door. Every day, we took turns being line leader. Then we followed the teacher outside to the buses. There were only four buses. I rode on number 17. After the buses were loaded, I was taken home. Living less than a mile from school, I was the first off the bus, along with my uncle and aunt, who lived right across the street from me.
* * *
         Ten years later, here comes Ronnie, all grown up. Well comparatively at least. At fifteen years old, Ronnie was the tallest person in the entire school, but we’re not talking about school here. The summer of 2000 is the point of this story, but first, you will need a little background just so you know how he got to where he is.
         One day while sitting with Yun, the Korean exchange student, in Ms. Rigel’s class, Ms. Rigel handed me a form to fill out. I had no idea what it was, but I figured, “Why not?” and I filled it out to the best of my knowledge. I had to write two essays, both of which I had nothing to write about. One essay was about what I would change in my community to make it better. I wrote about shutting down the bar right there on main street. I faked like it was way worse than it really was, but it sounded good enough.
         A month or two later, I got a letter in the mail. “Congratulations Ronnie, you have been accepted to attend the 2000 Missouri Scholars Academy.” I had no idea what this “Scholars Academy” was, but I decided to go with it. Apparently it meant I had to stay away from home for three weeks and stay on a college campus with a bunch of smart people. Also, apparently I am one of those smart people.
         The first thought in my head, of course was, “Oh my god, I have to be away from home for three weeks. What will I do?” Then I thought, “Wait, I get to be away from home for three weeks. I don’t have to be at home. I can be on my own, at the bare minimum at least. No parents for three weeks.” I had nothing else to do over the summer, so I figured it would at least give me something to do.
         Jump a little further into the future. June 11, 2000. I arrived at the campus of the University of Missouri in Columbia and had three bags of stuff carried into my room. I didn’t get to unpack right then, for I had to be at the opening ceremonies in a matter of half an hour or so. After the opening ceremony, all parents left, leaving me with 329 nerds and a bunch of genius teachers. I thought it would be the longest three weeks of my life.
         Week one was really introductory. I met so many people just because it was customary that if you saw someone you didn’t know, you say hi to them. It was amazing how friendly of an atmosphere it was there. They weren’t the nerds I imagined before. In fact, they were all like me, thinking they would be surrounded by nerds, only to find some of the coolest people ever instead. I had at least ten to twenty people a day coming up to me to say “Hi, my name is...” I can honestly say I didn’t remember every single name entirely, but if anyone else talked about someone I met, I could remember them easily.
         Week two was the time when everything seemed to be set and comfortable. All the friends I made in the first week were like friends I’ve known for years now. We all did some of the craziest stuff. It would be impossible to list them all here, or even a small fraction, but just to put it shortly, we ran around doing stupid stuff like only the best of friends could do, and all in knowing each other for a matter of days.
         Week three was by far the saddest week ever. The beginning of the week, everyone was saying, “I can’t believe there is less than a week left.” We spent a lot of time talking about stuff we’ve done and stuff we have to do before we all leave. We ended up cramming a lot into the last few days. So many memories, but so little time to tell them. Those were the days that have molded my very existence to this day. Without them, I honestly believe my life would be meaningless right now.
         It all ended on a Saturday. The Friday before, there were so many people crying and hugging and getting pictures together. I used up four rolls of film the last two days. Friday night, we had a late night assembly for the first time, starting at 8. We were all given two beads and a candle. We were to light the candle on the way out and give one bead away to the one person we believed to be the most influential to us. Outside on the Quad, we had an hour long candlelight ceremony before being sent back to our final night back at the dorm.
         The next day, parents came and we had to leave our rooms empty. The closing ceremonies were held like a graduation. Our noble leader Ted gave a speech just before all 330 of us walked across the stage to receive our certificates. After that, we all said our final good-byes and left, possibly never seeing some of our best friends ever again.
* * *
         Two years later, I am a senior. I have grown at a rate a million times faster than I would have without the events of this story. Today, I am happy because I know what I’ve been through and knowing that I don’t have to think about how life would be if something else happened, because something else didn’t happen. It happened how it happened.