Pride
I’d like to start by saying that I am proud[1] of myself for how long it took me to come up with a life story that embodies the deadly sin of pride. I've apparently led a life pretty devoid of hubris and self-confidence, which is apparently, a good thing. There is however one very glaring example of pride that led to my abusing power, backstabbing friends, and bogarting all of show-and-tell time. It was the second grade.
My
friends I and were getting restless with the everyday power structure of the elementary
classroom. One teacher to rule them all. This seemed pretty un-American to me
and my patriotic friends.[2] What
would George Washington do to deal with this situation? He’d become President,
that’s what! It was decided then and there, we needed a class president. We
came to the conclusion as a group, already role models of Democracy. Naturally,
as soon as the word President was uttered, I knew that I would be president of
the second grade. Or at least president of Mrs. Fitzgerald’s classroom, aka,
one third of the second grade. REAL POWER!
Before
we even pitched the idea of an election for class president, I was way ahead of
myself making campaign posters, having people call me sir, and kissing babies.[3] In
my mind, I would be running unopposed. I was Chris Todd, the man born to be
president. Did you see the Lego tower I built during indoor recess or read my latest
chapter of the chipmunk novella my friends and I were writing?[4] I
was a presidential man among boys.
Mrs.
Fitzgerald thought it was a great idea to hold elections. She thought it would
be a great way to learn the democratic process. I thought it was a great way to
learn that I was the most popular kid in class. I was already starting to form
my cabinet. Scott would be VP, he had fresh ideas but was shorter than me, so
he could be handled if need be. Brad was my Treasury Secretary, we didn’t know
what that meant. Jon would be the head of the secret service. I was a valuable
asset now. He started immediately, and thank God, we made it through the
process without incident.[5]
It
had been a few days since holding elections was agreed upon, which is the equivalent
of 2 and a half years in second grade time. The kids were restless.
I
was restless, and that’s what mattered.[6]
I
bothered Mrs. Fitzgerald every chance I got to hold elections. She said she had
to find a way to fit it into her lesson plan. I said “I can find a place for
you to fit it” implying that she could go take that excuse and shove it.
Actually, I was very respectful of my elders and probably had never even heard
the term “shove it” as a 7 year old. I said “ok Mrs. Fitzgerlad. I just wanted
you to know we’re all excited for me…or some other person I guess…to be
president.”
Then
finally, the day arrived. The halls were lined with American flags drawn in
crayon and the excitement for Democracy was palpable. I wore my best t-shirt
and jean short combo for the big day. The ballots were filled out, and placed
into an Adidas shoe box, just as our forefathers had done before us. Right
before lunchtime, the count was in. We all sat silently awaiting the results,
as if the world depended on the outcome. The person with the second amount of
votes, or the new Vice President: Scott. It was all coming together as planned.
I shook his hand as if to say “a new day begins with us.” Then the bottom dropped
out. Pride cometh before the fall.[7]
Our new president was Jackie. I was third. If you know anything about
Elementary school, first is worst, second is best, and third is the one with
the hairy chest.
I
had the hairy chest.
[1] The
good kind of pride. Like “I just got into college Mom!” pride.
[2] We
took the pledge of allegiance seriously!
[3]
There was no kissing of anyone. Cooties were everywhere in those days.
[4]
There is a twelve chapter story about three chipmunks and one tiger somewhere
on a hard drive. Handsome reward for recovering it.
[5]
There was the hole-in-the-milk-pouch scandal, but I don’t want to talk about
it.
[6]
Politics makes you a monster.
[7]
Great reference.
