It all started for me in the 8th grade. I never considered myself to be a popular
person, but for some reason some of my fellow students thought I should be the
class president. So I ran for the only
political office I would ever run for in my entire life – Class President of
the 8th grade class at Saint Mary Gate of Heaven School in Ozone
Park, Queens. Never having thought of
myself as being popular, this seemed like my one chance, at least in my
adolescent twelve-year old mind, to be the popular one, to be the important
one.
The problem is I had to run against a very popular
classmate. I am going to give her the
name Rosie for the sake of this reflection.
Rosie was by far the most popular student in the whole eighth grade
class. If this was going to be a
popularity contest, Rosie would win hands down.
She was talkative. She was
pretty. She was the life of the party. Everybody liked Rosie. Everybody would be sure to vote for her. I figured the only possible way I could
defeat her was to come up with an awesome speech. Each candidate was expected to give a five-minute
speech on why they should be elected as class president. And so I came up with all these ideas about what
I would do as class president. I listed
in the speech all the great ideas I had for fundraising so we could have, as
the graduating class, some great field trips.
I thought about all these great ideas to make the school a better place
for the students. I don’t know, maybe I
even had on my platform that I would convince the teachers to not give homework!
I don’t know. All I knew was that I had an awesome speech, and if my fellow
students got to hear my ideas against Rosie’s ideas, I would be sure to win.
Now the day for the speeches and the election came. I had practiced my speech, and I was all
set. This was the best speech, I
thought, since JFK’s Inaugural, when he said, “Ask not what your country can do
for you, ask what you can do for your country.”
As I came to school that day, I didn’t see Rosie anywhere. She was always in the schoolyard before
school, talking up a storm. She’d be
leading a game of hopscotch with the other girls or even engaging the boys in a
game of tag. This morning was the
morning of the big speeches and the election.
Where could she be? As we got in
the classroom, the teacher delivered the sad news that the night before Rosie’s
grandmother had passed away and Rosie would not be in school that day.
So, it was decided that I would give my speech anyway and then
the election would happen. So, I gave my
speech, with all my great ideas. I figured,
well I am sure to win. They would hear
only my great ideas and then I would win.
Once my speech was over, the students got to vote and I got demolished. I am not even sure if the students who nominated
me in the first place voted for me!
Of course, I cried foul.
I said it wasn’t fair that they didn’t get to hear Rosie’s speech against
mine. I wanted to prove her better I was
than her. I even remember thinking that
people just voted for her because they felt bad about her grandmother passing
away.
As I reflected back on that incident some forty-five years
later, I realize that as much as it seemed like the most popular person won, my
own motivation for winning was based on a desire to be popular as well. It bothered me, not because I lost the
election and I wouldn’t get to implement my ideas for the good of the students. No, it really bothered me, because there went
my chance to become popular. I realized
later I was running for class president, because I wanted to be the popular
one. I wanted to have the chance to tear
down the popular one, Rosie. I wanted to
feel the adulation that I though she felt. My desire to make it all about me had
me lose even my feelings of sympathy for her at the loss of her
grandmother. I wasn’t worried about the
good of the other students. I wasn’t
concerned for Rosie and how she must have been feeling. I made it all about me.
And so perhaps we do with what God calls us to. We make it all about us.
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