My Candidacy...

I recently found out that Paul Ryan, the Republican Vice Presidential Candidate, graduated from high school the same year as me.  I couldn't believe it!  One of my "peers," someone with whom I could have traded baseball cards and ogled girls, could be second in command of the most powerful nation in the world!  Inconceivable.

This bit of news brought me back to my one-time brush with politics during my youth.  My 4th grade teacher, Mrs. Montenegro, encouraged the class to write a letter to the President of the United States to see if we would get a response.  I did... and I DID.  The leader of the free world responded to my query!  That was enough to set me on a course for the Presidency.

I knew I was too young to run for President of the United States.  Fact of the matter, I was too young to run for President of my elementary school (you had to be a mature 6th grader for that).  The highest office a lowly 4th grader could hold was that of School Secretary.  It was no "Commander and Chief" but would have to do.  I set my eye on the prize and began a torrid campaign.

My only opposition came in the form of a seasoned 6th grader who had held a lesser student council office the year before.  This little gal turned out to be a formidable opponent.  She not only had months of experience on me, but it was a well known fact that no 4th grader EVER won out against a 6th grader in a student council election at Thomas Jefferson Elementary.

No matter, I was undeterred.  I pressed on, plastering campaign posters on every wall, shaking hands with the common kid, and kissing Barbie dolls whenever the opportunity arose.  Weeks of campaigning led up to that pivotal make-it-or-break-it moment that every politician must face - the Campaign Speech.

The crucial day finally arrived.  I sat on the stage, behind the lectern, and watched the entire student body file into the auditorium.  The lights dimmed and the show began.  One by one, candidates made their way to the podium and prattled off their forgettable speeches.  My opponent, the "6th Grader" was no exception.  She completed her vanilla oration and yielded the floor.  It was my turn...

With speech in hand I approached the spotlight.  The crowd was quiet that day, my friends, lulled into a  half-slumber courtesy the preceding communique.  I filled my lungs and launched into a flurry of grandiose covenants in what was sure to be my tour de force.  With God as my witness, I looked straight into the eyes of my fellow students and promised longer recesses and shorter school days.  I waved my tiny fist in the air and guaranteed 3-day weekends and 4-day school weeks.  I pounded the podium and pledged to have all of the water in the drinking fountains replaced with rich and delicious chocolate milk!  Upon completing my fanciful rhetoric, I calmly stated, "All good politicians know when to take a seat.  Now I shall take mine."  And with that, I did.

The entire auditorium erupted into a thunderous standing ovation.  The kids cheered and the teachers applauded.  Smiles all around.  My peers surrounded me and patted my back. Joyful bliss abounded in Jefferson Auditorium that day.  I can't swear to it, but I even remember seeing Mrs. Montenegro wipe a single tear from her cheek.  I was a hero.

For the first time in the history of our school, the leading candidate for School Secretary was a lowly 4th grader.  All that was left was to vote.

Each student filled out a ballot and we waited anxiously for the tally.  After what seemed an eternity, the results were in... I had lost.

Defeat?  Impossible!  The election was rigged! Didn't they listen to my masterfully spun web of hope?  They gave me a standing ovation!  How dare they go against their actions and not vote me into office?  Liars!

Alas, there was no time for self-pity.  I knew there was another crucial election rapidly approaching - the race for 4th grade class president.  After my last performance, this election would be a cinch!  After all, I didn't have to win over the entire school, just my classroom.

I lost that one, too.

When all was said and done, I wasn't even able to wrangle the ever coveted "Ball Monitor" position.  In the end, I would reign as the all-powerful "Film Projector Monitor."  Oh how the mighty had fallen.

I often wonder if that election was a turning point in my young life.  Had I won that election, would I have gone on to pursue politics?  Would the Noland name be stamped on the Vice Presidential ballot this year?  Alas, I didn't win, so I guess we'll never know.  Instead of growing up to be president, the Film Projector Monitor grew up to be a filmmaker.

Tell me God doesn't have a sense of humor. ;)