Autumn was an important time in the lives of sixth graders: it was the time for the election of the school’s student council. Four classes competed with each other: maths and physics, history, music, and of course class D, who were dubbed the ‘melting pot’.
Each class nominated a presidential candidate and campaigned for a full week. The four classes competed to see who could make life better and more exciting for students over the next year.
The campaign sometimes included more populistic attempts, just like in real politics: handing out sweets, funny quizzes, or promising a school disco.
This one-week campaign period, held in the third week of October each year, was called the Student Days. And as the week drew to a close, the whole school was turned upside down.
The biggest and most important question, of course, was always who should run as student president for each class. A close second came in the question of what the class campaign should look like. After all, that’s what the whole campaign week was all about.” ““But, Pedro, more than two thirds of the class voted for you.” Garcia looked stern.
“But I don’t want to be a candidate for student president, Professor!”
“Come on, Pedro! You have the gift of the gab!” Shouted one of the girls from the back bench.
“Yeah, I for one would not dare to stand up in front of more than five people!” Shouted a chubby boy who was the smartest student in the class, and almost unable to complete an answer because it gave him severe stage fright.
“That’s enough, kids! This class is turning into a shouting match… Everyone zip it up!” The unusual phrase worked and everyone fell silent. “Back to you, Pedro, there must be a reason why you’re protesting so much. What’s wrong with running for student presidency?”
“I don’t want to, that’s all. In my opinion it’s not for me, that’s all.”
“Are you afraid?” Garcia looked deep into Pedro’s eyes.
“No!”
“Well then?”
Pedro was thinking. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a stupid idea… if everyone wanted him to do it!
“Okay…”
“Hooray!” The class voted loudly in favour.” ““Tell me, why didn’t you want to run for presidency, Pedro?” Asked Garcia after the Monday afternoon literature class.
“Well… my mum told me that my dad was a politician, too. And he left us when I was very young. That’s why I don’t want to be a politician.”
“Pedro, it’s all just for fun, you know that. Fun is the most important part of it for your classmates too.”
“And they want to win, of course…” Said Pedro, in a worried voice, “and I don’t know if I can win for them.”
“Maybe not for them, but more like with them!” Garcia raised his eyebrows.
“I’m sure you are right, Professor,” Pedro agreed.
“So now I only have one question: why didn’t you do your homework last week?”
“Oh, that poem about friendship… my apologies, Professor, but I’ve been so busy I haven’t had time to write it yet.”
“Have it ready by next week. Your last poem was really good as well. Well, hey, my bike and my wife are waiting. See you tomorrow!”” “On the way home, Alfredo thought out loud:
“Only a week to go until the Student Days!” On Mondays they were the last to finish, so only he and Pedro went home together. Pedro was going to literature class and Alfredo attended a series of lectures on Economics for Children.
“You are so lucky to be nominated for president of your class! I wanted to run for my class, but I was voted out. They’re nominating that airhead, Gino.”
“The one with the earrings?”
“Yeah. They said he was the funniest. The other day in the dining room, he knocked the tray out of my hand, that was absolutely ‘hilarious’. They also voted to make the theme of our campaign The Wild West, because Gino’s dad can get one of those rodeo bulls, you know, the ones you sit on the back of and it throws you all over the place. What will be your theme?”
“The Wild West?”
“Well,” Pedro thought, – “that’s a little old fashioned…”
“We don’t know what to do yet.”
“But you only have a week left! How will you prepare the programmes?” Alfredo asked in surprise.
“I have no idea.” Pedro sighed.” ““We’re the only ones left without a theme, kids, and that’s no good!” Began Garcia at the class teacher’s lesson the following day. “Class A has The Wild West, Class B will be scientists, and Class C will turn their classroom into a theatre for next week. But what about us? You have not been able to agree for weeks. Pedro, any ideas?”
“I’ve been thinking a lot since yesterday… what if we were rappers?”
“And what exactly do rappers do?” Garcia laughed.
“Well, they rap,” responded Pedro.
You could hear a pin drop in the classroom. It was not really clear whether they liked the idea or not.
“Professor, that sounds awesome!” A thin girl’s voice boomed across the room.
“Really cool!” Echoed increasingly around the room.
“Professor! I’ve even come up with a slogan!” Shouted Patrick, who was the naughtiest kid in the whole class, but liked by everyone.
“Well, drop it then, P-Dogg!” Laughed Garcia now.
“Flex the lyrics, they feel so good, vote for Pedro, fresh from the hood!”
Pedro chuckled with relief: he had won a battle without even having to fight.