For N.E.W. Lutheran’s fundraising event, I built the future.

Or at least, a scaled, foamcore version of it.

Armed with blueprints and an X-Acto knife, I built a model of the proposed new high school: walls, rooflines, painted details, all small enough to sit on a table but large enough to let the donors dream a little.

It started as an art project. I used it for Mr. Seikman’s class. He was impressed and the administration co-opted the model as a fundraising prop — a visible promise of what could be, if enough checks were written.

There was a strange feeling in that: my teenage craft used as a vessel for adult capital.

On the one hand, I was proud. On the other, I got my first taste of how art gets yoked to systems bigger than the maker.

Looking back, it feels like a rehearsal for so much of my later life: • building things that help people “see” a possible future • being the quiet maker behind other people’s speeches • watching money move (or not move) in response to images

Foamcore, posterboard, and a teenager’s hands — that’s how institutions get built, too.