“So bye, bye, Miss American pie,” a circle of 500+ students sang, tears cascading down their faces, as it would be the last time they would sing this song in this situation. Years before, I hadn’t understood why this happened every year; it’s only a song. But now I found myself flooded with tears as it was my last time; now I would be the one saying goodbye. Goodbye, CTY.

The Johns Hopkins Center for Talented Youth (CTY) offers summer programs for “gifted students.” In 2009, I unwillingly left my home for the summer and attended my first CTY summer. I arrived at the site and felt like an outsider. I scouted the place, attempting to find a student that looked like me. But with little success, I sat on a staircase. Another girl sat next to me, smiling, asking if I was part of CTY. I nodded, embarrassed because her English was perfect and mine wasn’t. She began to ask me about the course I was taking and I answered “Heroes and Villains.” She informed me that she was taking the same course, and that was the start of a beautiful friendship. Maddie was her name, and even though she came from a private middle school and had been raised in an English-speaking home, not once did she ever make me feel inferior because I came from a public school and relied on financial aid to come to this camp. Nobody made me feel inferior at CTY; to them, I was their equal, their friend. It was strange to me at first since some of the students at my school made me feel bad about not speaking proper English. But soon, I began to stop thinking so much about the way I pronounce my “r"'s and began to enjoy myself. What makes CTY so special is the community: a place where everyone can be themselves.

Two years later, however, I found myself in a predicament. I wasn’t able to return to the same site, and this year, I’d have to stay on campus for the three weeks. The years before, I commuted, but I had outgrown the program. Scared about being away from home and not having any friends, I resisted going to CTY again... but I still went. At residential CTY, the sense of community was even stronger. When I arrived, I was taken “under the wing” of two nevermores (students who were attending their last year at CTY) who taught me all of the CTY traditions, in hopes that after they left, these traditions would be kept alive. From learning how to play Ultimate Frisbee to learning how to rave, I picked up everything they taught me. After class, Emily and Mackenzie would introduce me to their friends, and not once did I feel lonely. Because that’s the amazing thing about CTY: You make lifelong friendships in three weeks, and that’s something I hadn’t found anywhere else. Beyond learning about traditions, being away from home taught me practical skills, like how to do laundry. But I didn’t do this alone; older students taught me, soon learning how to be independent. The last night that year, we had a dance. At the end of every dance, all CTYers stood in a circle, with their arms over each other’s shoulders, singing to “American Pie.” This time was different. Nevermores began to cry. Confused, I asked Emily if something was wrong. She answered, "Someday, you’ll understand.”

Mackenzie and Emily asked me one last favor before they left on the last day: “Keep the traditions alive.”

Four summers later, I have done them justice, as they’re the reason I became so integrated in the CTY community. Every summer, I found new friends, new loves, and new surprises, but something always stayed the same: It was a community where I could just be myself. It didn’t matter if you were British, Chinese, or Mexican; people saw beyond your background and found a friend in you. I taught others the traditions: “American Pie" is always the last song at every dance, and Ultimate Frisbee and "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" have long been revered by the CTY community. I made it my job to educate the new students and make them feel like a part of the community. Many students thanked me at the end of each summer for helping them “survive” three weeks away from home. Yes, I taught them how to do laundry. More importantly, I taught them to be themselves because it wasn’t something to be ashamed about. “Be your nerdy, quirky selves,” I told them.

The hardest part every summer was to say goodbye, and my seventh summer, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I was 16, aging me out to come back. As I joined the circle that last dance, I cried, understanding what my friends told me four years ago. No more raving, no more "American Pie," no more CTY. But as I sang at the top of my lungs, I realized CTY taught me what I want in my life, and that’s to be happy just being myself. I felt infinite at CTY, but that feeling could extend beyond CTY through me doing what I love. Sure, some may find it weird that at CTY, we held readings of “The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy” every Sunday, but it made me happy. And that’s the way I always want to be.

“So bye, bye CTY,

I have to leave but I’ve had the best of time.

And all us nevermores may be aging out,