Growing up in Hiram, Georgia, I never imagined myself at a high school in Wisconsin, but, oddly enough, I did always have a feeling I would end up at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. Something about the atmosphere of Camp Randall drew me to the television for every Badger game. The red and white sea of people at the stadium would put me in a trance. As I became older and learned more about college, Madison continued to stand out because of its programs, its marching band, and its campus. I’ve always done well in school. In high school, people openly wonder how I manage to hold down a job, participate in sports and clubs all year, and maintain close to perfect grades. As junior year came to a close, I began to stress about how I would
