I have realized that I will never be president of the United States, but I have had the experience of being president of my sixth-grade class. I was voted in by my fellow students for this status position or so I thought.

First, let me describe the context of my public elementary school. I grew up on the outskirts of Baltimore City near the town of Dundalk, a wealthier town than where I lived. The Baltimore tunnel, whose opening was attended by Queen Elizabeth, Bethlehem Steel, Fort Holabird (Army Intelligence Center), and Lever Brothers Soap Company, was also nearby.  There were no school buses so the eight kids, including myself, in the neighborhood squeezed together in a taxicab with no seat belts to school (see photograph below). Can you guess which one is me?

When I entered sixth grade, I was 5 feet 6 inches tall, which is referred to as being an early bloomer according to psychology. There are benefits for most early bloomers such as being chosen first for team sports and getting more invitations to social events than late bloomers who are treated more like kids while early bloomers appear more adult-like. We reach adult-like features before late bloomers. The downside is being exploited for your accelerated physical abilities, the pressure to perform beyond your social and mental abilities, and the expectation to act older than your chronological age.

It was a plus for me because I had a higher percentage of the votes from my fellow students to be president. I felt like I had power and popularity.

I was a diligent president because I really cared about integrating new students into the classroom. I would assign another seasoned student to mentor this person and get them assimilated into the class.

One of my duties as president was to keep order in the classroom when the teacher, Mrs. Lohr, had to leave the room for other duties. It was a job I took seriously.  However, the teacher’s son, Wendell, became a culprit during these times and would test my authority. He would run around the room disrupting everyone while they worked on their assignments, and he didn’t. He would overturn tables and chairs.  I tried to control him, but he outweighed me and would not listen. So, on this one occasion, I put him in the cloakroom where our coats and galoshes were kept. I think I even locked the door!

When Mrs. Lohr came back into the room, the class was quietly working on their assignments, but Wendell was missing. When I told her that he was in the cloakroom for misbehaving and not listening, she replied that I had no right to put him in there.  She was extremely mad and yelled at me, the president of the class!  I reacted that “I quit” and did not want to be president anymore. She accepted my resignation.

My fellow classmates thought I was brave to stand up to Mrs. Lohr for what was right in their eyes.  Guess what happened two months later? They elected me to be the queen for May Day which was a big celebration and honor!