Praying for a Red Light

Friday was the big day! I was so excited to be chosen as the keynote speaker for the Green Light Ceremony. Ever since I joined the Future Innovators of the World or FIW at the beginning of my junior year I knew there was something special about them. The ceremony was held every four years or so and it was the kind of class that made college admissions salivate. The keynote speaker for the Green Light Ceremony was selected by our teacher, Mr. Levitsky and was essentially the most advanced student in the class. Basically, the ceremony was a motivational pop-up sermon to test FIW members. It assessed their ability to speak in a public setting, draw a crowd, and hold their attention. It’s part exam, part social experiment, part worst nightmare for anyone like me who is petrified of speaking in front of strangers.

A few years back, the keynote speaker was a freshman named Isaiah, he popped-up in a park with a bunch of vans and put on a whole show. I heard it was an absolute frenzy and that he had nearly a thousand people in attendance even some kids from his own school. If I shit the bed after a freshman, I could never show my face again. I knew I had to make sure that my pop-up drew in more, but we weren’t allowed to use the internet. I wanted to project my voice for all to hear. Mr. Levitsky always said; If our voices are to be heard sometimes you must raise them. Truly one of the best and well spoken teachers I’ve ever had. Damn sure taught me more than either of my parents had in the last seventeen years of my life.

I glided into school that Tuesday morning, my confidence must’ve been showing because my crush Sara Miller asked me out on a date. Cotton candy and a Ferris wheel for two? With the girl of my freshman dreams? Hell yeah. This was incredible, my luck was really hitting a high point and it was all thanks to the Green Light Ceremony. After school let out, I went to the mall and quit my bullshit job at Footlocker, they could keep their crappy eleven-an-hour part time slave gig. They got their last bit of cheap labor outta me and I was on to bigger and better things. Again, confidence is a true eye opener. I felt more focus and I gained clarity on what and who’s important.

That night, I went over my speech. I was really nervous but knew that Mr. Levitsky chose me for a reason. He trusted that I was ready, and I am not going to let him down. Honing my hand gestures until they were in sync with my inflection but not to the point it sounded formulaic or ingenuine. I wanted to speak with an authenticity and conviction but also project a presence. It was around midnight when my mom cut me off, yelling through my door that it was time for bed but there was no way in hell I was sleeping. I was like a kid on the night before camp, nervous about how things could turn out but excited to find out. I wondered how all the other keynote speakers felt before me, I’m sure it’s only natural to feel like you’re gonna fall flat on your face.

I thought about the first person who ever won an academy award, did they trip? When did worrying about tripping in front of people become a thing? Was it always a thing? Did tribes worry about messing up in front of their village? My mind wandered across the myriad of thoughts that is the spectrum of the pre-sleep brain. You’re not doing anything, so your mind is just idling, waiting for you to come back and drive That pause in activity and movement where you reflect on all of you. Your day, your life, a stupid thing you said or didn’t say years ago. That time you embarrassed yourself when you were the only one watching. Or that really messed up fight you had with your mom that you never apologized for but instead just stopped talking about. The small and the monumental merging to form equal significance when you’re too tired to differentiate and prioritize.

As I drifted to sleep, I reminisced on how everything unfolded, leading up to this very moment. I was looking for extracurricular activity to round out my profile for colleges. Only problem was, I was having difficulty finding out what would give me the best boost. I was already in small groups like film club and history club but none of them offered what FIW and Mr. Levitsky offered. A chance to rebrand yourself and hold your head high. Mr. Levitsky was well traveled and a natural born leader who also reminded me of a Russian Santa Claus, minus the red suit. Similar to Future Business Leaders of America, FIW was sculpting leaders of people. Advanced minds that could shape the world in a better image through relationships and business ethics. What made us different was that we specifically engaged with marginalized communities, like those made up of minorities and LGBTQ+

A huge part of business ethics is how to conduct yourself both internally and externally. It’s not just about what you do, it’s how you do it. Mr. Levitsky conducted himself in a manner that was worthy of respect, he led by example, and showed us all equal treatment in and out of the classroom. I remember one time I was grocery shopping with my mom, and we ran into him at checkout. He was so polite and articulate that my mom couldn’t stop blushing. I was smiling too; he just had a way about him that made you feel seen and didn’t give off that all too familiar creeper vibe. I wish all teachers were like Mr. Levitsky, high school would have been a lot easier.

Wednesday came and I went over the plans with the other speakers during class. I chose to do it at the state pride fair so I could give my big speech and go on a date with Sara. Most of the senior class were skipping anyways along with some juniors so I’d probably get a bigger crowd for those that knew me. I think Mr. Levitsky may have timed it that way to go easy on me due to my fear of public speaking. It was less of a pop-up and more of a stage hijacking, so my nerves weren’t in complete panic mode. I got the times of what local artist were performing and when a break in the acts would occur. Our window of opportunity would be between two-fifteen and two-forty. That gave me more than enough time to spend time with Sara, she’d just be getting out of school.

After school Thursday, I got fitted for a red tux. I know this wasn’t the norm, but I wanted to show Mr. Levitsky that I’m different. I thought it was irreverent and would help draw in a crowd versus just some kid on a cheaply erected stage. The vibrant red dinner jacket was as suave as it was svelte. It added to my confidence in a way I’ve never seen before, I was exuding masculine energy and it demanded attention. I spent the night strolling the streets of my neighborhood. Headphones on and my lowkey mix. I knew this feeling wasn’t going to last but I wanted to own the moment and recall it when I didn’t feel like I was worthy or when I’d inevitably fail at something. I could feel myself changing for the better, protecting myself while allowing others to see what I’m made of. I think that’s what Mr. Levitsky meant about internal armor. He said some people are born with it, and others must forge it. But those who forge it are stronger because they know how hot the fire can get. I finally understood what that meant. My internal armor was no longer brittle and could not be chipped at the slightest inconvenience. I could put myself out there and not be wounded. I could live and thrive amongst others who were different from me. In short, I was ready to meet the world.

The big day arrived, and I was cool as the other side of the pillow with the fan on. I had my delivery down and gestures were basically muscle memory at this point. I was ready to absolutely own this moment. My fellow speakers and I ditched school after lunch, I wanted to arrive early to get a lay of the land. On the ride there, we got in the zone, hyping each other up and proclaiming how good the show was gonna be. I didn’t need their reassurance, but I welcomed the motivation. I was ready to run through a brick wall by the time we arrived at the fairgrounds.

We hung back and watched the last of the acts finish up before the break. Once the last local wanna-be singer wrapped up we made our move to the open mic. I threw on my red jacket and stepped on stage. My classmates sounded off with bullhorns, per my instructions to draw people’s attention. They directed them to the stage, I could feel eyes lock onto my presence as I welcomed them with elation, sprinkling in showmanship without appearing like a snake oil salesman. My delivery was perfect, and I projected with the confidence of a professional orator. To sum my words up in a breath, the people in the audience were cogs in the capitalist machine that is America. Looking around at the cheap prizes and fried foods in their hands only gave credence to my words. They were being manipulated into unbridled consumerism with tickets instead of cash. Even the pride fair was a gimmick used to stir their emotion into buying whatever product represented them.

The looks on their faces began to sour; I saw that they didn’t want to hear these words. Not from me anyway. That’s when I saw Sara in the crowd, terror filling her eyes as she attempted to run towards the stage. Why was she so scared? I realized she wasn’t going for me, but my classmates who lined the front of the podium. They unzipped their hoodies in unison and revealed vests lined with a brick-orange clay or puddy.

A classmate turned towards me with five seconds left on a timer attached to the vest. In those five seconds I became aware of my own place in the machine. Another cog created for another purpose. In those five seconds, I thought about how proud Mr. Levitsky would be of the person I had become. In those five seconds, I thought about how ashamed my mother would be. In those five seconds, I thought of Sara and all the people who lives I’d change forever. In those five seconds, I prayed for the light to stay red.