I Found My Home in a Rocket Blue Family

“The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.” — Maya Angelou

A love letter to my high school, where I could show up as I was and begin becoming myself.

I stumbled upon this photo from high school.

Almost certainly, it was taken on a Friday morning before classes. A group gathered on an off-the-beaten-path road, looking alive and totally 80s. There was covert underage drinking, confidence not yet earned, and at minimum, one bad idea forming in someone’s head.

It’s ridiculous, and it brings me great joy.

I don’t feel nostalgia nor wish to go back. My life now is beautiful in ways I couldn’t imagine when I was younger. What makes this photo and the school we all attended so important to me is something much more specific. Central was the first place I finally felt like I belonged.

Small and rural by most standards, even then. Our graduating class had ninety-two students. That kind of smallness was a gift. Central gave me enough space and safety to become more of who I already was: a little different, curious, sensitive, funny when I felt safe, interested in people and ideas, and free to be myself.

My childhood was chaotic and neglectful. An abrupt move by the family from the suburbs to farm country when I was in fifth grade was, in part, to prevent my proximity to an abusive older neighbor kid. New trouble emerged.

I learned quickly that kids can be exceptionally cruel. Being different is not universally viewed as a gift by middle schoolers. Completely unprepared for the bullying I faced, my parents efforts to intervene on my behalf made it exponentially worse. So much so that I left the feeder-school path for a couple of years.

When I arrived at Central, I was viewed as new but not completely unknown. I had made some older friends by then, and in a small school that mattered. Positive momentum changes how you’re seen. Friendships grew. So did confidence. I could express my sense of humor freely. I found places to belong. That is what Central gave me, a place to be visible without being fearful.

It wasn’t perfect, but there was a real generosity there. People could cross groups. There were classmates who made ordinary days feel alive. There were teachers and coaches who paid attention in ways I did not fully appreciate at the time.

People grow differently depending on the system that holds them. Some systems shrink people or rank them too early. Some make being different dangerous and force kids into roles. Better systems give people room to be curious and creative. That is what I experienced at Central and it changed my life in ways I could not have named then.

I can name them now.

When I think of Central, it isn’t the building or grounds. It’s the time and place where I could arrive and finally be myself. My high school gave me space and freedom at a time when it mattered more than I understood. Central helped me learn something I have carried into the rest of my life: a good community does not require people to become the same. It gives them enough safety to become more fully themselves.

Central did that for me.

And that is why I still bleed Rocket Blue.