I was never curious. I never went out of my way to find things out for myself. Intellectual curiosity was something I naturally lacked, and even if I wanted it, I couldn’t force it on myself.

But during the cherub program, random questions popped in my head not only as I wrote and reported, but even when I thought I was on break from journalism.

One hot, humid day, I walked into town with a group of friends to see “Harry Potter 7 Part 2.” Streets were blocked for a cycling race. Cyclists, with their sweaty faces and dark sunglasses, buzzed by me. I felt bad for them because the day was awfully humid. But I walked on to see the movie.

After the movie, Evanston was still not cleared. I was stunned to see the cyclists still racing. I imagined by this time, at least two and a half hours of biking in circles, that their senses were numb from the sun. I cheered for them until the race finished. I saw a cyclist put his arms around his wife and children. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses, and his pace was so slow.

I wanted to ask him about his race. Did the sun bother him? What did he think of when he started and finished the race? Which part of his body aches the most? Why did he compete? Did he get dizzy going around in loops for three hours?

Even though I didn’t find the courage to ask anything, I realized I was curious. I could have walked straight through the cyclists since the sun was bothering me. But I naturally stopped. I realized then that I had become a journalist. And at the cherub program, I found the curiosity that I always wanted.