THE CAMPAIGN

I learned everything about politics when I ran for fifth-grade class president. I was an idealistic, naïve 10-year-old. I went into the campaign looking like the young, vibrant John Kennedy, and by the time all votes were cast, I sat slumped in my chair like Bernie Sanders.

I’ll admit I didn’t know what running for class president entailed, but that didn’t stop me from throwing my hat in the ring when Miss Nelson asked who would like to be a candidate. A boy named Scott was my opponent. Scott was a kid who lived in my neighborhood. He was well-liked, quiet, and seemingly levelheaded. Then Miss Nelson said that Scott and I would present our campaign promises to the class the next day and the students would cast votes at the end of the week.

Oh, no. I did not realize that wanting to be class president meant that I had to speak in front of the class. Also, what were campaign promises?

So, I went home and told my mom I needed to make a speech to the class, but I had no idea what a campaign promise was. Mom was a teacher. She’d know what to do. She told me to think of three things I’d want to do for the other kids. She explained that the class president would be a middleman in negotiations between teachers and students. I just wanted my classmates to get rewards for their hard work — get the teachers to reach across the aisle and consider our point of view.

Mom was right again. So, I jotted the first things to come to mind on an index card and was ready for the big speech. Scott would never see me coming!

It should be noted that this was not a debate format. Each candidate was allowed to speak once and present their ideas. We didn’t field any follow-up questions. I got to deliver my campaign speech first.

“If elected to be the president of this fifth-grade class, I promise to do three things: First, if we all get an “A” on our spelling test, the teachers will give us an extra recess. Second, teachers will give every student one free homework pass each semester. Finally, the last Friday afternoon of each month will be movie day to celebrate that month’s birthdays. Everyone can bring a snack to share.”

There was polite clapping. Now it was Scott’s turn to campaign.

“If elected class president, we will have McDonald’s for lunch every day in the cafeteria.”

There was a roar. The room was up for grabs. With that statement, Scott had single-handedly won over the boys and the girls. Hell, he won me over. He continued.

“If elected, I will also make it so the girls can’t join the boys’ soccer games at recess.”

Now, the boys were no longer crisscross applesauce. They were shoving each other, cheering and clapping.

“And, finally, the only special class we will be required to attend is gym.”

Another roar. Deafening applause. I went home and complained to my mom.

Me: Can he even say that? There is no way the school would allow McDonald’s for lunch and gym class every day.

Mom: Yes, he can say it. Politicians promise many things they know won’t happen but sound good to people. I didn’t expect Scott to be that crafty.

Me: Why didn’t you tell me a campaign promise could be a crazy lie? If I had known that, I would have promised that Shawn Cassidy would play a concert for us in our gym and that a limousine would take us to and from school every day! Are people so dumb that they think Scott can get us McDonald’s every day for lunch?

Mom: Unfortunately, yes. Sorry, Rachel. I didn’t want you to run a dirty campaign. You were honest.

That was my first and last foray into politics. I learned that looks can be deceiving, a promise made does not mean you will do it, people believe what they hear without questioning it and honesty is for losers. I didn’t try to smear Scott’s good name on election Friday. I ran an honest and achievable campaign and lost the election in a landslide.

We never had McDonald’s for lunch.