“Colorado's right next to Utah - you know, Mormon Central.” –Trey Parker
And when you’re from a place known as Mormon Central, going anywhere else can feel like an escape. In some ways, it feels like a return to reality. But sometimes that return can slap you in the face. This is one of those stories.
It was the second month of junior year, and I was struggling. I was at a brand new school in a brand new state and I felt like I knew nothing. Why did I think it would be a good idea to try and take four AP’s and try and meet new people? I was begging to back to Utah, begging to go back to a place where I was accepted and had friends. I had barely introduced myself to anyone in my new high school, and part of that was just because it was so huge: my private high school in Utah had 1000 students ranging from kindergarten to twelfth grade, whereas my public school in Colorado had 4000 students ranging from ninth to twelfth grade. There were lines to go into buildings! I felt powerless. How could I matter in a place like this? I stumbled from class to class, keeping my head down, just trying to not make eye contact with someone who I knew I would probably never see again. AP Calc was a bore, AP US hurt my hand from all the writing, AP Lang was a class I didn’t even want to be in, and don’t even get me started on AP German.
If everything else was going wrong though, I could always count on my academics. I was getting straight A’s, if only because I had nothing better to do. Yet there I was at review night for my physics class, steaming about public school and the general state of Colorado while also trying to study for the test that I was hopelessly over-prepared for, when suddenly, out of nowhere, someone asked me a question about one of the labs. I was scared, confused, surprised, and excited, all in one. I answered quickly, blubbering about the lab while comparing it to some nerdy video game that takes at least 20 hours of gameplay before you even begin enjoying it. He replied excitedly, having also played the game, and then suddenly, I had made a friend. And then he realized that I had an accent, and introduced me to his friends, and suddenly, I had made a lot of friends. More than I even knew what to do with! We had group texts going at all times, incessantly buzzing because there were always a couple people who never seemed to sleep. They showed me Colorado, showed me the Book of Mormon, and taught me all the ways to be a successful Coloradan.
I was converted. The state was again my savior, the one I had envisioned when I took that two hour one way flight to a place that I’d never been before. I no longer felt attached to Mormon Central, but rather felt the Rocky Mountain High that John Denver sung about. I saw the beauty of the land, the beauty of the people in it, and grew to appreciate that I was in a huge school, as there was always someone to talk to, always someone to meet, yet you never stopped running into your best friends in the halls. I loved my classes, as I could sit next to people who had the same sense of humor as me and crack jokes the whole time while still acing every quiz just for the hell of it. I felt powerful again. I felt smart, smarter than I’d ever felt when I was lonely, even though I was still getting the same grades in the same classes. Other people noticed this change as well. Suddenly, everyone seemed to approach me for help in the class and elected me as leader whenever a big group project came up. It was an amazing feeling, one that I’ll always carry with me, because even though I may have lost some of that confidence as I approach a new school in an unknown state, I’ll never lose that knowledge of what I’m capable of when my friends push me to new limits and show me how any place can be amazing, as long as you make it that way.
-Luke Fanning
And when you’re from a place known as Mormon Central, going anywhere else can feel like an escape. In some ways, it feels like a return to reality. But sometimes that return can slap you in the face. This is one of those stories.
It was the second month of junior year, and I was struggling. I was at a brand new school in a brand new state and I felt like I knew nothing. Why did I think it would be a good idea to try and take four AP’s and try and meet new people? I was begging to back to Utah, begging to go back to a place where I was accepted and had friends. I had barely introduced myself to anyone in my new high school, and part of that was just because it was so huge: my private high school in Utah had 1000 students ranging from kindergarten to twelfth grade, whereas my public school in Colorado had 4000 students ranging from ninth to twelfth grade. There were lines to go into buildings! I felt powerless. How could I matter in a place like this? I stumbled from class to class, keeping my head down, just trying to not make eye contact with someone who I knew I would probably never see again. AP Calc was a bore, AP US hurt my hand from all the writing, AP Lang was a class I didn’t even want to be in, and don’t even get me started on AP German.
If everything else was going wrong though, I could always count on my academics. I was getting straight A’s, if only because I had nothing better to do. Yet there I was at review night for my physics class, steaming about public school and the general state of Colorado while also trying to study for the test that I was hopelessly over-prepared for, when suddenly, out of nowhere, someone asked me a question about one of the labs. I was scared, confused, surprised, and excited, all in one. I answered quickly, blubbering about the lab while comparing it to some nerdy video game that takes at least 20 hours of gameplay before you even begin enjoying it. He replied excitedly, having also played the game, and then suddenly, I had made a friend. And then he realized that I had an accent, and introduced me to his friends, and suddenly, I had made a lot of friends. More than I even knew what to do with! We had group texts going at all times, incessantly buzzing because there were always a couple people who never seemed to sleep. They showed me Colorado, showed me the Book of Mormon, and taught me all the ways to be a successful Coloradan.
I was converted. The state was again my savior, the one I had envisioned when I took that two hour one way flight to a place that I’d never been before. I no longer felt attached to Mormon Central, but rather felt the Rocky Mountain High that John Denver sung about. I saw the beauty of the land, the beauty of the people in it, and grew to appreciate that I was in a huge school, as there was always someone to talk to, always someone to meet, yet you never stopped running into your best friends in the halls. I loved my classes, as I could sit next to people who had the same sense of humor as me and crack jokes the whole time while still acing every quiz just for the hell of it. I felt powerful again. I felt smart, smarter than I’d ever felt when I was lonely, even though I was still getting the same grades in the same classes. Other people noticed this change as well. Suddenly, everyone seemed to approach me for help in the class and elected me as leader whenever a big group project came up. It was an amazing feeling, one that I’ll always carry with me, because even though I may have lost some of that confidence as I approach a new school in an unknown state, I’ll never lose that knowledge of what I’m capable of when my friends push me to new limits and show me how any place can be amazing, as long as you make it that way.
-Luke Fanning