Ricky's School Montage

High atop the bell tower, we sit. The whirring of tiny gears, and the ticking of tiny clocks the soundtrack of this September morning in 1989.

As we look out from the bell tower to the entrance to the Maryland Military Academy for Boy’s an old blue Ford pickup pulls up to the front of the school and a young boy climbs out, a large duffle bag hanging from one shoulder. He stands tall in clothes he seems uncomfortable in, with a fresh haircut and doesn't appear to lean with the weight of his bag as the other boys do. He turns, closes the door, steps back and salutes the driver of the pickup. Spins on his heel and walks off into the large entrance to the school.

We dive down off our bell tower, leaving behind the ticks and the tocks to follow this boy as he walks the halls. Seeming to search for a room with answers to questions burning in his mind. Finally he reaches the sanctuary he was searching for. With a sign, he swings open the double doors and steps inside.

At the desk to his side, a librarian looks up and says something… but the words never reach his ears. Instead his eyes widen as he looks around the room.

As our camera pans behind Ricky Lewis, before him we see rows upon rows of books, he stands in a world unfamiliar to him. Ahead of him, the answers to all his questions. The solutions to every problem they could face and every enemy they could come up against.

But this is Ricky. This is not Heather or JD. It would take him a lifetime to read the books on just a single shelf, and another to understand the meanings behind them… no, this place holds the answers but they are kept from him. Hidden in the bindings, behind the words and the stories. There are too many. Where could he start? Where should he start? How do you begin a journey when there are ten thousand destinations? This is not his world. Ask him how much seed to plant in a field or how to start a stubborn tractor. But to read all this? His best hope is to find that one book that can help him, one story that can help him understand it all. Surely he can manage one before the year is over? Now to find that book. Does he dare step out and between the rows?

He turns to the librarian at the counter beside him. Next to her a stack of new books, ready to find their homes in the rows. His eyes flick through the titles before returning his gaze to the top of the pile. He picks up the book and checks it out. No need to wonder about the rows lost for eternity searching for answers. Sometimes answers find you.

Our camera cuts to Ricky, still with his bag on his shoulder, going through the poster board of signup sheets for after class activities. Writing his name, first name on the list, for class after class… karate, boxing, jujitsu, archery. Anything he thinks can help him. These are things he can try, if they don't work out at least he tried. He's a physical kid, working on a farm doesnt leave time for books and stories but does make sure you never sit idle. Make the most of the skills you have.

The camera fades to the following day, beside the sleeping ravens we sit. The ticking of tiny clocks, and the whirring of tiny gears causing the sleepy ravens to shift on their branch. We look out at the darkness, the sun hasn’t graced the day with its presence just yet. Our young Ricky is up, and out on the track. A spattering of lights on in the school, but mostly it sits as a dark shadow in the predawn light. A brand new walkman clipped onto his side, he slots in a tape, presses play and begins to run. Counting the songs on his tape he times his run. Tears pouring down his face as “Songs for Ricky”, the sad song mix tape Heather made for him plays the soundtrack of his motivation.

The day moves on, and through the windows we watch as Ricky sits in the front of the class beside an open window as he listens intently to the teacher, scratching notes down with the occasional look to the world outside. Phys ed class he pushes himself to the breaking point, harder than all the others in his class as the teacher marks down “personal best” on the clipboard.

On the weekend the class is forced to run to the top of a distant hill and back again. We fly above on golden wings, to see Ricky running at the back of the pack, shouting encouragement and helping failing class mates. As he lifts a small boy onto his shoulder without so much as a grunt, we hear him say “You’re only as fast as the slowest member on a team and only as strong as the weakest. We win as one, or we lose as one”.

Our scene begins to repeat, as the days turn into weeks and eventually into months. In the mornings he runs alone save for the ticks, the whirs and the flutter of wings. At lunch he sits alone, just a smile to anyone that tries to engage with him. After school he trains in his numerous after class activities and at night he reads and writes under his blankets by torch light.

The camera finally stops flashing through our montage, the repetition fades into Ricky walking through the double doors of the library, his duffle bag on his shoulder. The final day of school for the year is over, there are no more nights left to count. No more time to read. No more time to prepare. He's going home to help his friends.

We see a smile across his face and a brief exchange with the librarian as he returns the one book he was able to study this term, it's not a big book but it no longer looks brand new. The pages look like a book that has graced these stacks for a few years. It took him three months but he did it. He places the book down on the counter, and as he turns to leave and catch his ride home to see his friends, the librarian checks in “Sun Tsu’s The Art of War”