Hail to the Chief
In pursuit of getting
“No more homework! And an extra pizza day each week! My promises to you, Homestead, as your student council president!”
I couldn’t believe it. They were eating out of the palm of her hand. Did she even have that kind of authority? It was a losing battle if she had the inside track on abolishing homework. I mean, I know it’s the fifth grade, but even if Eve won the popular vote there’s no way her policies would advance through the principal’s office.
If you didn’t know any better, you would think the crowd just found out they were getting full sized candy bars only at this year’s Halloween. Eve told them what they wanted to hear, but I was going to tell them what they needed to hear. I was the right person for the job. She walked away from the podium and the cafeteria audience was now at my fingertips.
“To the students of Homestead, I should be your student council president because I would make a good student council president. My Grandpa told my parents that I was going to do something big someday, so when Ms. Tokarchik asked who from our class wanted to run, I raised my hand.”
My voice echoed through the cafeteria walls as if it was coin hitting the bottom of a well.
“If it weren’t for me, we never would have the playground rules put in place that required everyone to have to be picked for a team if they wanted to play kickball. Now everyone gets to play!”
This was a new feeling. I’m not getting any of the reactions I thought I would get. Why do I feel sad? Or is this embarrassment?
“And, um...”. My voice trailed off. “I think if you vote for me it will be like High School Musical every day. Like the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell, I will be the powerhouse of Homestead!” (Ms. Tokcarchik had taught science that day).
I had completely lost them. I don’t think it matters how old you are— there is an undeniable feeling when a group of people is not responding to what you have to say.
“Thank you, Gavin!” Sensing a potential impending meltdown in front of the entire fifth grade, Ms. Tokarchik called my speech. Amidst a smattering of applause she ushered me out of center stage in the cafeteria.
The students were then told to write their votes on a sheet of paper and hand them in to be counted.
It took our teachers all of five minutes to tabulate the results. Eve won in what I only assume to be a landslide. So much for my Grandpa’s prophecy.
--
I trudged slowly into the front door to my Mom folding clothes in the living room, the Oprah Winfrey show humming in the background. “How was school Gav?”, she asked as she did every day. It’s one of the things that makes her so special. I don’t think she’s expecting the answer to be any different than it always is, which is ‘fine’. But if I were to ever say anything more positive or negative, she’s game to spend the rest of her night investigating the root cause. She was radically unconditional in her love. I could come home with a dead body and my mom would help me hide it.
“It was okay”, I responded somewhat dispiritedly. “Ms. Tokarchik asked who wanted to run for student council president and I volunteered.”
My mom perked up, her folding ritual coming to an abrupt halt. “Gav, that’s so exciting!,” she yelled proudly. “What happened? How did it go?” I had her undivided attention.
“Well, I, um...” I began stammering. Whatever image my Mom had of me, I had of myself. I was not the type of kid who got up in front of his classmates and embarrassed himself.
“I won!” What am I doing? Gavin - Jesus Christ quit while you’re ahead! “Everyone loved my speech!” I couldn’t help myself. With each passing sentence I dug the hole deeper. “Ms. Tokarchik said it was the funniest she’d ever seen someone give at Homestead!”
My Mom was beside herself.
“Oh my god!”, she screamed and gave me a big hug. “Why am I not surprised? You’re such a go getter!”
She was right. I was a go getter. But people are quick to award go getters only when they ‘get’ whatever it is they’re going for. The act of ‘going’ though often isn’t celebrated—yet it’s only in the going that you get what you set out for in the first place. People want all of the getting but none of the going.
Then why do I feel bad about going for it?
Because I’m lying about it, for one. The integrity of my entire pursuit was compromised.
My Mom was ready to party. “That’s it, we’re going to dinner tonight to celebrate! Red Robin. I’ll text Dad and tell him to meet us there from work.”
“Mom, please. It’s not that big of a deal”, I shrugged off with trepidation. I was fighting a losing battle.
”Nonsense!”, my Mom shouted gleefully. “Dad just texted me back and is on his way there now. Let me go freshen up and we’ll hit the road - I’m in the presence of royalty after all!”
I had completely lost control of the situation. My head was spinning as Oprah reviewed this month’s book club selection in the background. If only being temporarily uncomfortable was easier than prolonging my misery through dishonesty.
In a swift rush of motion, my mom hurried down the stairs and ushered me to the car. It was the longest 10 minute ride of my life. Okay, we’ll have dinner, and over dessert I’ll tell them the truth. They’ll understand. No harm done.
As we walked into Red Robin my Dad stood up and serenaded me with ‘Hail to the Chief’, looking proud as ever.
“Mr. President! Thanks for fitting us into your schedule. Congratulations buddy. I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“Thanks, Dad. But really, it’s not a big deal. Honestly now that we’re here maybe I should just be honest—“
On the precipice of my confession, our waitress greeted our table. Clearly having already conversed with my Dad, she excitedly exclaimed, “Well, this must be the man of the hour! Thanks for choosing Red Robin, your majesty. I’ll grab y’all a couple of waters.” She curtsied as she said this and I felt like I was going to throw up.
“How funny, we have another table just across the restaurant celebrating a presidential victory. Maybe you guys could have a summit!” She motioned to the aforementioned table and my nine years of life flashed before my eyes.
It was Eve. She was celebrating her *honest* victory with her family.
Upon the waitress’ recognition, Eve’s eyes met mine and she smiled. Like the outgoing and charismatic girl she is, she got up and made a beeline for our table.
“Hi Gavin!”, Eve said cheerfully. “What are the odds? I’m sorry about how things ended up today. Hey, if you’re open to it, maybe they would let you be my vice president!”
A palpable tension came over our table. In an instant, the jig was up and my parents saw through my lie. Thoughtfully, my Mom interjected and introduced herself.
“Hi there, I’m Gavin’s Mom. It’s so nice to meet you! Maybe we could arrange for you and Gavin to hang out some time? You two can figure out all your big plans with the fifth graders of Homestead!”
Eve didn’t miss a beat. “That sounds great! I’ll go ask my parents about it. See you tomorrow at school Gavin!”
The waitress traded spots with Eve as she sat waters on our table. “Can I get y’all anything to drink besides water?”
Without hesitation, my Mom replied: “We’ll have a milkshake for the Commander in Chief.”