The first time I moved out of South Dakota, I was 15.
It was my Junior year, but my new high school assigned me a locker in the Sophomore block. It took me a while to figure this out as I recognized a few nearby locker residents from homeroom. As it turned out, a similar mistake had been made with my homeroom assignment.
Lunch at my new school was broken into four shifts, staggered in 15 minute increments, and grouped by homeroom. This meant that any classmates I’d meet my Junior year would eat lunch at an earlier time. It also meant there was a perpetual line of students to notice me eating alone. For a while, I decided it was more relaxing to skip lunch and head to the courtyard with a sketch pad.
The second time I moved out of South Dakota, I was 21.
I should probably mention I moved back first. My plan after high school had been to enroll in the architectural engineering program at a state school. I had a tuition scholarship, so it seemed like an easy decision until an art teacher suggested I apply to a school of design on the east coast.
I submitted references, a portfolio, and a series of drawings in response to a surprisingly stressful test. I learned some time thereafter that I’d been accepted, and even though I knew I couldn’t afford the program, it made me think a career in art might be possible.
That summer, an hour or so after my high school graduation ceremony, my parents moved again. I stayed with a friend rather than moving with them, but I lost resident status. So, rather than take on more debt (the scholarship covered in-state tuition cost) to study to be something I’d decided against, I decided to enroll at the University of South Dakota and sort things out.
After several years wandering through a bipolar double major (art / genetics) while enjoying in-state tuition, I transferred to a new school in pursuit of a larger campus, a more demanding curriculum, and a girl. So, as I noted above, the second time I moved out of South Dakota, I was 21.