Imagine you’re an underprivileged kid living in a major US city. Somewhere like Chicago, Baltimore, or Seattle. Your family’s got next to no money. You’ve been working your entire educational career to one day make a difference. To break the poverty cycle. You’re going to be the kid whose name the old white fogeys remember when you’re kicking them off the senate.
Now imagine your golden ticket shows up unannounced. Your escape plan doesn’t have to wait until you get to college. You’re offered a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to attend the Winston Institute: a school so prestigious the kids aren’t allowed to talk about it. It’s like the Illuminati of educational systems. And the list of attendees is astounding. The president went there. Half the congressmen. The new CEO of fucking Nasa. Now you, a kid with no future who was told he’d never make it, are walking around with your own invitation.
The only doubt in your mind is what your family will do without you. Maybe your mom’s sick, or your dad’s abusing your sister. Or maybe it’s just that your fucking government can’t seem to understand how badly you all rely on that welfare check. But you reason that they can get by without you—maybe it’ll even be easier, since they won’t have to pay a cent to send you off. So with a kiss or a shrug goodbye, you board a plane, not knowing you’ll never come back the same.