пятница, 9 декабря 2011 г.

The Votes Are In

By Marsha Porter

Oh, my friend, it's not what they take away from you that counts. It's what you do with what you have left.
~Hubert Humphrey

At the end of my junior year, nominations for student body officers caused quite a stir. It appeared that Debbie would run unopposed for president. Talking amongst a group of disgruntled girls, I muttered, "There must be someone who'd run against her."

Suddenly Liz focused her attention on me. "Why not you?"

"Me? No way. I work after school. I can't stay for all those meetings."

My closest friend, Linda, vetoed my protests. "Why not? Just think how great our senior year would be! You could get a real senior trip approved and get better bands for the dances. You could even get celebrities to speak at our assemblies!"

My little group continued to ignore my now feeble protests as they speculated on the wonderful changes I could make. By the end of the week, they'd gotten enough signatures to put my name on the ballot.

Debbie and I had very different campaign styles. Because I was always hopping around, I'd earned the nickname "Bunny." Signs soon popped up around campus with perky rabbits and the slogan "Make your votes multiply with Bunny!" My platform aimed for more fun and less restrictions. We wore uniforms and I advocated more free dress days and a broader interpretation of what accessories were acceptable on regular dress days.

My opponent, on the other hand, avoided any hint of silliness on her posters. Catchy slogans and cuddly critters had no place in her serious campaign. What she offered was the opening of Senior Lawn to all students and an alphabetical reformatting of the yearbook that would intermingle ninth through twelfth graders rather than highlight seniors in oversized portraits. Gone would be a dedication of nearly half the yearbook to seniors, their quotes and their many exciting activities.

Underclassmen loved Debbie's ideas; her equality among the grade levels held a magnetic appeal for them. Would-be seniors, however, were livid. The lawn we'd gazed longingly at for three long years as our own private paradise was now to be shared by all? Outrageous! Senior portraits to be lost in a sea of lowerclassmen? What was she thinking?

My classmates rallied behind me and I was confident they could sway enough underclassmen to vote my way. Each day I got reports of a few more freshmen and sophomores seeing the light, however distant, of senior perks.

On election day, I felt fairly confident. I was even looking forward to quitting my job and focusing on school politics. The vote was to take place during homeroom but before any ballots were distributed, the principal's voiced boomed from the PA system.

"A special congratulation goes out to Debbie Hart who put our school on the map with her outstanding science fair project."

My head began to throb as I tuned out additional details the principal just had to share about the honor and glory this one science project had heaped upon our school. The details grew fuzzy but I got the feeling that Debbie's entry was equivalent to the invention of penicillin or the polio vaccine.

At the merciful end of the principal's tribute, the ballots were, at long last, passed out. I knew my peers would not be swayed by the announcement, but what about the rest of the school?

By the end of the day, the votes were counted and Debbie was declared the winner. A friend who helped with the counting let me know I'd lost by only twenty votes. Almost winning felt just like losing... actually it WAS losing... and I got depressed. All I'd been hearing for the past few weeks prepared me for the thrill of victory, not the agony of defeat.

Avoiding my group of friends, I sat on the steps that led to the Senior Lawn. Just staring at what would soon be shared space, I didn't notice Mr. Laskey, the cool young teacher with long hair and a beard. He sat down beside me sharing my view of the grass.

Turning to me, he smiled. "Congratulations!"

"No, I didn't win," I replied.

"Yes, you did. You won the time and freedom to do whatever you want next year." He went on to tell me he'd lost an election in high school too and it was the best thing that ever happened to him.

Honestly, I thought Mr. Laskey was nuts at the time. I didn't want to hurt his feelings though, so I didn't argue with him. What I didn't realize then was how wise he truly was.

Debbie's campaign promises came to fruition in September with the renaming of the Senior Lawn to the People's Lawn. Once the underclassmen invaded, my class of seniors lost all interest in eating there. When our yearbook came out in the spring, the only thing that set a senior apart from a freshman was what the seniors wore for their portraits. Size and placement mattered to us and there was a chorus of complaints about being buried alphabetically amidst students of every grade.

As the proposed changes became reality, I was the recipient of complimentary remarks from my fellow graduating classmates. The message was always a wish that I'd been elected to maintain the senior tradition of being set apart as both special and privileged.

As for me, I kept my job and took nine units at our state college while completing my high school classes with my friends. It took some juggling but I managed to fit everything in, a feat I could not have accomplished with all the extra meetings and activities required of a student body president.

I guess Mr. Laskey knew what he was talking about.

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