election

I was thinking about how we learn about elections and voting. Some of us are taken to the polls by parents or grandparents, but for most of us we learn about running for office first-hand in school - during student council elections.

The high school that I graduated from, an all-girls Catholic college prep, had a very interesting take on elections. For starters, if you ran, you simply ran for student council, and not a particular office. It seemed pretty odd to me, but it was explained that this took the ugliness out of elections.

Since no one was running for office, there were no posters in the hallway saying "Vote Ashley for President". I am not 100% sure, but I know that campaigning of any kind was kept to a minimum. If we were allowed posters, everyone running was allowed the same space. I want to say though that were weren't allowed posters or buttons or cupcakes or candy.

The one thing I know for sure is that we gave speeches in front of the class. I think my class fit into the Chemistry lab. I think we did it during lunch, but I could be wrong. We had a specific amount of time to explain why we were running, and how we would serve the student council.

Then everyone voted. This is where it got even more interesting. Since as I mentioned, there were no candidates to place under an office, every one's name was simply placed on the ballot. You then ranked your classmates in the order you preferred them, from 1 to the number of candidates.

The candidate who received the lowest number, was asked which position she wanted to hold. Most likely she would choose to be president, but she could pick whichever office she felt suited her. Then the student who got the second lowest number would pick, and so on, until all of the offices were filled. Somehow it worked out, and the person people expected to be president or treasurer, ended up in those roles.

I actually ran for office for my senior year. Of course that meant we held elections in our junior year, earlier than I would have expected. Anyone running for office was required to get a permission slip signed by her parents. It seemed a bit much given that you had not been elected, yet I guess it kept there being problems with someone winning and not be able to serve. It was a good lesson for when I worked in a company that required I get permission to apply for an internal position before I had gotten the job (or the job had even technically been approved by management).

I still remember going into my mother's room to get my permission slip signed. She was still asleep. I didn't want her to make a big deal about my running for student council. I was quite vague about what the permission slip was for. I feared that if I didn't win, I would never hear the end of it. She groaned, but signed it. I did tell her what it was for.

I didn't win. Despite trying to take the politics out of the election, it still boiled down to basic human nature. People voted for the girls they knew and liked. I was the new girl, and as such, an outsider. I talked about new ideas, when my fellow students really were not interested in change. There were only 100 girls in my class, and many had been together for a long time. I was devastated when the call came that I had not won a place on the student council. I think there were only two of in this position. I had also tried out for the flag team, and was the only one not to make it despite having two years of drill team. I was notified of both of these failures on the same evening, and still showed up the next day to school.

My moment did come though. I was made captain of the Academic Decathlon team. I had won over one of the teachers, a nun, and she lobbied for me. Since it was the first year the school had entered, I was put in charge of calling and getting the details. I remember when I met the woman I had spoken with - she was shocked to learn I was a student, and not a teacher.


on the night stand :: Run

this i believe

I admit that I am an NPR Junkie. The radio is usually on in the background, tuned in. Even at night, I somehow feeling safer hearing the BBC News reporting the latest. One of the shows that moves me most though, is This I Believe.

This week there was an essay from Brighton Earley. It is on the importance of flexibility to survive the sometimes difficult things that life dishes us.

Brighton's story certainly brought up issues for me. I certainly could relate. I was in a somewhat similar situation when I was her age. I was attending Catholic school in LA while being raised by my mother. Of course in my last two years of high school I felt like someone had waved a magic wand and turned me into a princess.

I had my own room with a private bath in a brand new condo on the West Side. My mother drove a brand new BMW. We had beautiful new furniture. I had a stock pile of pretty clothes. To the outside world, it looked like life was good. But there is always more to the story.

I have always struggled with unworthiness. It is hard not to when you believe that you never should have been, and that your existence caused so much pain.

On some level I must have realized it, but my room was the only room in the house with furniture from our previous apartment. I still remember confronting the dean of discipline (and my future history teacher) when I didn't have the proper uniform shirt. It was on order. At my last school we wore powder blue shirts. At my new school it was white, but I didn't have a plain white button-down shirt in my wardrobe. The best I could come up with was an ivory silk shirt I found in my mother's closet. I still remember saying to him that just because my mother had bought a new home, everyone thinks she has money. I explained that this wasn't true.

What was true, and what I didn't say is that my mother had let me have it. After I had been accepted to the school over the summer my mother was informed that she was three months behind in the tuition (she selected the monthly installment plan). Then there was the crazy overpriced uniform company. According to the school list I needed to purchase a blazer. This meant I only got one skirt and a sweater. And the two shirts I had ordered were out of stock, but paid in full. And of course there were my books and other supplies. My mother made it clear that she was spent. I feared asking her for anything.

During my tenure at the school, she would 'forget' to pay my tuition on more than one occasion. Of course instead of confronting the parent, the school reminded the students. I was actually prevented from taking one of my last final exams and spent the class period in the bathroom crying. I remember her telling me that I could have just asked instead of being such a drama queen about it.

Of course money was one of the least of my problems. There were secrets. Deep, dark secrets. Things I feared my classmates learning about. That was such a crazy time. But I survived. I have great hope that Brighton will as well.



on the night stand :: A Picture is Worth 1000 Words