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Don't be hesitant
Last night Maddy and I stayed up too late. I had been at book group and when I returned a little before 11 she was at the kitchen table, homework spread in front of her. In tears. Tears are fond of 11 p.m., have you noticed? Some of it was the new workload of high school honors classes, pace, and deadlines. Most of it was the elections.
Ninth grade elections. Is there anything more slippery and unpredictable than high school politics? Maddy decided to run for class president and is experiencing the full emotions of putting yourself out there: hope, betrayal, affirmation, doubts. Middle school maintained a come one, come all approach to student leadership so these are their first real elections. It shows. Apparently one girl is promising doughnuts to everyone who votes for her and that has been a very successful campaign strategy. Gotta love the short-term thinking of ninth grade brains.
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It's hard not to keep remembering my own first attempt at elected office. I know our children aren't necessarily destined to experience the same fates we encounter (and that it's not all about me!) but I can't help feeling this vicarious nervous feeling for Miss M. No question, those nerves are rooted firmly in my memories of that first election saga.
It was 1982ish. 7th grade? 8th grade? I was the oldest child in my family so I was navigating new, unfamiliar terrain at the junior high but I nevertheless decided to make a run for class president, coasting on the feel-good spillover from my elementary school years. When I look at this picture of myself from that year, I just want to hug her. Oh, Annie, honey. (This is the infamous beauty-school-student, old lady perm.):
In addition to giving a speech and making posters, we had to do a skit. I assembled as many people as I could and invited them over to my house for brainstorming and practice. Lacking any great ideas (I know, fantastic president material, right?) I went with my mom's idea: since my name is Annie, why not a skit around the musical Annie? (Are you feeling sick to your stomach with dread yet?) So she helped rewrite some words to the music Tomorrow ("Vote, Annie! Vote Annie! Vote Annie for president. She's only your vote away") for everyone to sing. Then I would come out in my little curly perm with a red dress on and give my speech. I thought it was pretty great.
The morning of the skit, I was really nervous in my little Annie getup. We were somewhere in the middle of the line-up and it became clear pretty quickly that the reigning theme was "cool." As in: not trying too hard. Lipsynching Foreigner. Spoofing Saturday Night Live (did I even know what that was yet?). Sporting a rainbow shirt or izod. Not wearing a red dress impersonating Little Orphan Annie with earnest lyrics*. When it came our turn, my posse just kind of muttered rather than sang. We made it through, though, and I am grateful that no one outright heckled. And, hey, all the teachers seemed to really like it.
During last period they made an announcement on the intercom. Under the stares of my classmates, I listened as the office of president went to Denise Kidm@n, a tall cool girl who had four older teenage sibling advisors on all things cool. I accepted the condolences of my classmates with a brave smile, burning eyes, and a red dress crumpled up at the bottom of my bag.
. . .
So, you see? I have election baggage. I want to help but I know I have no idea what the formula is for achieving high office in this generation's 9th grade. Apparently it includes doughnut bribery. I am proud she is taking the risk, putting herself in the ring, and offering to serve and lead. Don't be hesitant, Maddy.
What say you? Do you have election stories? Any ideas or memories of a fun, memorable student election speech?
*I do want to say: This was not my mom's fault. She was wonderful and supportive and helpful. She made the handouts. She fed the volunteers. {Thank you, mom.} It just goes to show adults really can't predict the recipe of coolness that determines junior high/high school election success. What worked in the 60s didn't work in the 80s. What worked in the 80s, whatever that was, won't work now.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Reader Comments (8)
I can't really chime in on the election stories (although there was a miserable, failed cheerleader attempt in the 7th grade). But I have to ask, don't you guys have early morning seminary? 11 PM no longer even exists around here...not with my girls getting up at 4:45! So, this just means that our crying starts earlier. Your 11 is our 8. Awesome.
Sarah, you're right, we are indeed an early morning seminary family. We were up unusually late. When I went to bed at 12:30 I did a little sob when I calculated how much sleep we would fit in before our alarms started blaring. Sad. (But I don't teach seminary like you do, so my mornings are a little more gentle.)
i feel like i just read a blurb from a judy blume novel. :O)
i ran for VP one year in HS. i was running against a very popular girl, so i played that against her. in my speech, i announced that i wasn't as popular as she was, and then gave the tug-at-your-heartstrings-anthony-michael-hall type speech centered around "why can't we all just get along."
i won.
yeah. i know. where was john hughes when i needed him?
I had the exact same perm in 8th grade.
I love your blog by the way. I love blogs in general. I love relating to people far away that share my experience and 80s hairstyle.
That was award-worthy writing, right there, girl!
Your picture looks JUST like Maddy with bad hair. And yes, I had the beauty school old lady perm, but for me, it was red hair, so it really was Annie. And horrible.
I remember running in 6th grade and my dad was a campaign manager for state wide elections, so mine was a slick, professional campaign. Which pissed off Alecia Bingham, who spent her time covering my buttons with her taped construction paper badges and my professionally made signs with hers made of paint and markers.
Apparently, 6th graders like sloppy, rude campaigns.
How obvious is it that I lost??! ;-)
I never dared run. I took at a stab at joining the middle school volleyball team in 6th grade (with no real knowledge or skill of the sport) and was laughed off the court by some very mean girls. I kept my badly-permed head down and never put myself out there again. Bravo to you for giving it your all.
P.S. Very well written post, my friend. You have a gift. I love to read your words.
Annie, this is priceless. Thank you!
Here I am… up late waiting for my son, Spencer (a former elementary student council president), to get home after performing with the high school marching band at homecoming. Waiting and surfing led me here to your tender coming of age drama...
I have been "the accidental candidate" 3 times. Accidental in that back in the day, in many circumstances, you were nominated by your peers without actually announcing your candidacy. In fact, you may have even been elected as a reluctant leader. First, elections for 7th grade president... lost to a handsome boy with the feathered hair from Smithfield before I barely knew I was running. Second, Jr. High student body historian (a Mr. Rodgers skit and florescent posters topped off with a monotone speech wearing Cherokee wedge knock-off sandals, a pastel blue Gunny Sack dress, and stress-induced hives) ... lost to an adorable blonde girl after my quick study to find out what the historian's responsibilities actually were. Third, High school band president... cast votes for 10 top choices and the person with the most votes is president. Third time was the charm. Boat loads of work and tons of fun.
I understand the anxiety. I remember the dress in the bag and taking down the posters in silence while sporting eyes in desperate need of Visine. So, I found it surprising how calm I was watching my son go through the same thing. In hindsight, I realized the valuable lessons that I learned in the process of it all. Especially the invaluable lessons of dealing with the losses and rising up to the challenges of responsibility when you win. Despite the anxiety, leadership elections can be a long-term winning proposition all around.
Thanks you so much for sharing you account so colorfully. Thanks also for reminding me of the comical experiences of my youth which continue to bless my life today.
All my love,
Angie
P.S. I look forward to the next time we'll get to see you and your family! Wanna make a trip to AZ during the cold winter of New England?
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