Picture me. A tall (slightly less tall than I am now), skinny, nerdy teen with glasses and short brown hair. Oh, how I’ve grown. At least an inch or two! At this point in the school year, I was properly established in my role as Student Council President, so while I may not have been the coolest, my social standing was satisfactory. On the outside, everything was great. Truth be told,  on the inside, I wasn’t so sure of myself. I was the President, expected to be better than I am, and everyone looked up to me both figuratively and literally. They had this great image of me, but I was just along for the ride, unsure of what to do. My self-confidence was a bit lacking, and I felt like I couldn’t live up to these expectations of greatness people had of me. However, this was all about to change.

The time: February 3rd, 6 PM. The location: My friend’s house. The Collection of Esteemed Gentlemen (Me and my goofball friends) had gathered pre-dance for mainly a carpool, but also to wind down (or maybe wind up?) in preparation. After some pizza, we headed upstairs to put on a fashion show, my choice being a snazzy zig-zag button-down and accompanying pants. Then we took some pictures, cracked some jokes, and waited to leave for the dance. After an uneventful drive, we made it to St. Luke’s just after 7 PM. With our chiseled faces set in a serious manner, we strolled in. It really felt like we had this cool superhero shot of us walking in slow-mo, explosions in our wake. This feeling of power and triumph lasted until we made it down the stairs in the lobby. Likely to force social interaction, there was a phone checkpoint at the entrance to the Fireplace Commons. We begrudgingly handed over our phones, then with reassurance from the teacher chaperones, entered the Thunderdome. The first thing I noticed was all the snacks lining the walls. There was probably enough sugar there for a whole Mountain Dew! The second thing I noticed was the lack of people. Since we got there early, our peers had yet to arrive. Using this to our advantage, we grabbed some snacks and claimed one of the empty couches.

Over time, more and more of my classmates filtered in. Most came in and found their friends, scuttling off to minimize social interaction. So, despite this abundance of people, the dance floor remained empty! This took me aback since I went to the dance expecting to dance. An awkward silence fell over the crowd,  and I don’t know how long it was (about 28 minutes and 36 seconds) before anything actually happened. As I was wandering about aimlessly, like a leaf adrift on the wind, someone started nagging me to start dancing, eventually joined by their friends. “Hey, Rylan, you should dance.” “Yeah, Mr. President, go force yourself to be vulnerable and awkward and gamble on your social standing.” After this constant pestering, I had no choice but to succumb to peer pressure. I went out there and did this shuffling thing, being the bad dancer I was (and still am). It was super embarrassing, but, well, that’s kind of it. I stood out there half-shuffle half-dancing while staring at the ground and hoping this would end soon. It didn’t take long, now that someone was out there, for people to creep onto the dance floor, and just as I was ready to go back to the couch I realized they were actually dancing along. More and more people joined in, and with repeated encouragement, I even convinced my friends to join, though they looked like they wanted to murder me. Now that everyone was dancing, the rest of the night flew by. I was dancing, dancing, and drinking water. Seriously, I went through 8 bottles of water over the night. That night I unlocked a part of me I never knew existed. This all snowballed into an awakening of sorts, with me gaining the confidence I needed to be President. From then on, I was never afraid to put myself out there and never scared of what people would think of me. While this led to some embarrassing scenarios, it was all part of my journey as the President and an 8th grader. Without the 8th Grade Snowball Dance, I wouldn’t be who I am today. I wouldn’t know my friends nearly as well, and I wouldn’t have the confidence to come up here and give this speech.