FIRST HOMEROOM
Fall 2000, Freshman Year
I was student council president in eighth grade. I had won the support of eighth graders and the other kids in middle school. I wasn’t the most popular kid in school, not by a long shot. Most people were shocked when I told them I wanted to run for president. I ran a brilliant campaign, setting out a platform for change. I sprinkled some Spanish into my stump speech, reaching out to the few Spanish-speaking people in the audience, the custodians. I won in a landslide, beating out both the favored candidate and the academic.
I promised changes, which is what happened while I was president. The first thing to change was the length of the eighth-grade class trip to Washington, DC. I was at the staff meeting when the administration shortened the travel dates to meet the school's academic needs. Many snow days had resulted in less classroom time, and those days would have to be made up somehow. The students blamed me, saying I had broken this promise and several others. But I had learned, in exploring what could be achieved in one term in office, that my promises were pure fantasy. I left middle school politics bound for Wales High School as another phony and empty suit.