Disappointment Can Be a Powerful Catalyst

Elections Can Be Brutal

On Tuesday, this country held its election for US President, and, like many people, it prompted me to think about a lot.

For example, I’ve been thinking about what America really stands for in people’s minds and what it means for me. I’ve pondered the precariousness of any election and the nervousness that all connected with that election feel.

• There is disappointment over the close election from both sides.
• There is disappointment over how ballots are being handled.
• There is disappointment in how the media is covering the spectacle.

The list goes on and on.

This thinking has also led me to revisit the hard truth that I’ve been living with for a long time:

They really should have voted for me when I ran for student council in 7th grade.

To be fair, change can be unsettling for folks.

Change is hard and a lot of things change for many of us when we morph from elementary school kids to junior high tweens.

Here’s the picture for me in 7th grade, so you have a baseline for this story:

• Over the summer I’d gotten taller (my full height at 5’8 was really tall in comparison to everyone around me…on the first day in my art class one student asked if I was the teacher).
• I was sporting a new, short, unfortunate haircut that made me look 30, not 13.
• And in addition to all that, I had an easy name to remember/make fun of for kids who were bored. (And at that age in a time before mobile phones, when your Walkman or Discman wasn’t playing, you were likely almost always some degree of bored.)

In some ways, even though I was in a bigger school surrounded by more people, I had never been so alone.

Seventh Grade was My Second, Maybe Third Worst Year Ever*

*My worst years: 2012 and 1989 (2020 might be added to the list, but so far we’re holding steady)

Seventh grade was a harsh year for me.

How so? Here is a listing of the positives and negatives (in no particular order) from 1988-1989:

• Positives: I won a writing contest in my 7th grade English class.
• Negatives: Too many to mention. My parents divorced. My mother broke her leg and found out she had cancer. My grandfather died. I had unfashionable short, wavy hair in a humid state. I was chubby and had a nervous tick of chewing on the inside of my cheek. My house was haunted. We didn’t have cable.

A Chance to Ascend

But in spite of my lack of popularity, I felt certain in my heart that I should run for student council.

By the way, anyone who reads young adult fiction could tell you that I wasn’t thinking clearly. But lots of sitcoms and daydreaming fed my desires and I could imagine this being my first step into turning everything around. I knew I had good reasons for running.

What were those reasons?

First, responsibility was in my blood. I was a longtime latchkey kid and always looked after my sister. I was very “adult-ish” and became friends with most of my teachers. I knew I could speak their language and act as a diplomat between the hormonal junior high kids around me and the administration.

Second, it just felt like destiny. I felt like I was the kind of person who was meant for leadership.

(Note: I imagined a life for myself taken from the copy of The Official Preppy Handbook that I’d picked up one summer at a thrift store, too. A life with horses, summer camps, tennis, and Ivy League schools. Let’s just say I became practiced in disappointment.)

Preparing for the Campaign

The night before we were to give our campaign speeches, I looked around the house for ideas. I have no idea why I thought it was a good idea, but I decided to use props in my speech.

This is when I should have talked to a friend.

Most of my friends from elementary school had ditched me when I seemed less cool in junior high. My best friend had joined the cheerleading team and we barely spoke. Plus, I lived so far out from the school that I couldn’t call most students anyway because their phone numbers were long distance (which meant my mom had to pay a lot for each minute of phone time in the monthly bill).

When I think back on it, I don’t know who I could have talked to anyway. But I should have talked to someone. Because that person would have absolutely talked me out of doing what I ultimately decided to do.

The Day of the Speech

Dorky, clumsy, and with my sights set on climbing the political ladder, I set off for school with my visual aids and a mission.

Many of the details from that campaign speech are lost to time. But not the prop itself.

I’ll always remember the visual aid was a jar of Grey Poupon mustard. I’m fairly certain I tried to be funny (and we all know how that usually goes for 7th graders who try to be funny. Not well.).

Life After the Mustard Speech

What I can tell you is this: I’ve heard from two former classmates, separately, over the past 10 years who felt compelled to share with me that they remembered my 7th-grade campaign speech from 1989, that they had thought that I should have won and that they did vote for me.

So there is that.

I mean, seriously, how many student council campaign speeches have you heard that other people delivered that you actually remember? I don’t even remember my own!

So even though I didn’t get the vote, I won in my own way.

(No I didn’t. I lost. It’s why I’m writing about it at 43-years-old.)

It was painful. I felt a deep certainty inside me that I was the best person they could have elected. But when I lost that election, I felt like I was being forced into the role of outsider and in a lot of ways, that shaped who I am today. Not exactly a rebel, but always close by and on the outside peering in, like some kind of narrator for a story.

An Election Disappointment Helped Shape My Life

That role as an observer has really been an important role for me to play. I used to think, in college, that I would play this role as a newspaper reporter.

But what I’ve found is that I play this role in life, no matter what my employment, and that it is right for me.

We can learn so much about ourselves when we examine those things that disappoint us and what we learn can help mold the people we choose to be.

So, I guess what I’ve learned is this:

Disappointment can be a powerful catalyst.

 

How Have Elections Changed Your Life?

How has an election shaped who you are? AND have you ever used Grey Poupon as a prop for speaking engagements?
Please share in the comments!