#1 The Scribe and Student Council
#2 My company is going out of business . . .
First, let me tell you about The Scribe. If you didn't read yesterday's post, you might want to check it out before reading on.
The Scribe took forever coming to the van after school. "What is she doing?" I asked The Hippie.
"Looking at the list, to see if she made it on the Student Council."
I got really nervous. I'm such a goofball that I even called the school earlier to find out. The secretary had said they couldn't tell a soul who won--no one--until after school.
That elementary is tighter than Alcatraz! I can see why kids feel like they're going to prison instead of school these days. Seriously, they can't chew gum. They can't wear bandanas. Some schools wand the kids! Heck, I wore shorts for the first time the other day and The Hippie said, "Those are too short. You couldn't wear those at school."
"Why?" I asked.
"Because they're shorter than your fingertips."
I blushed feeling like one of those mothers on Jerry Springer, the mothers who try dressing like they're in Jr. High. Their butts hang out and the rolls under their armpits do too.
So, anyway, we waited for The Scribe to come out, but she never did. I ended up hauling my other three kids into the school. We saw The Scribe staring at a paper on the office door. All the other kids had left, but not her. She waited, trying to compose herself before coming out to the van.
"Scribe? You okay?" I asked.
She turned, sniffed, wiped her eyes like it was the coolest thing in the world, and said, "I didn't win. But it's okay. I didn't get on the Student Council."
"Oh, babe. I'm so sorry." Me and my army of children hugged her.
Now, I never expected her to react this way, but for a moment she did. "I'm never running for anything again. Never."
"Don't be like that," I said. "You have to keep trying."
We drove home and on the way I asked, "Who got on the Student Council anyway?" I wondered if the other girl had made it.
"Some boy who I hardly know. He seems pretty nice."
"So, that girl, your enemy, she didn't make it?"
"Nope. And I wouldn't even wish this feeling on her. I actually feel bad for her. She wanted it more than anyone."
That was a neat comment, and it made me proud. "But you still won't run for anything, ever again?" I asked.
"You got that right."
I pulled out the big guns then, because she'd asked for it. You know how every parent has one story they use for every situation--one story you hear a million times. Let me give you an example, "Why, when I was your age, I walked to school, ten miles in the blistering snow," or, "When I was your age we didn't have colored TVs or cell phones, or facebook!" Well, I pulled out one of those stories. I'm sure my kids can tell it backwards. They dream about this story. Maybe they'll use it on their children because it's that awesome!
"Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Mama Hirsch," I said.
"It was you. It was you." The Hippie giggled from the back seat.
"And every year she wanted to win at something," I said.
"Oh, man! Not this story again," The Scribe said.
"Yes, this story." I took a breath and continued. "You see, Mama Hirsch won Reflections in kindergarten and she wanted to win again, but even though she entered every year, she never won after that first time. She tried and tried at everything she could, but always failed, until one day, when someone said the school was having a play. Do you think Mama Hirsch gave up and didn't even try out?"
"No," The Scribe said in a monotone.
"Do you think Mama Hirsch was scared of getting turned down again?" I asked.
"No!" squealed The Hippie. That's when The Zombie Elf and Doctor Jones (my babies) started clapping.
"You're right! Even though I--Mama Hirsch, knew she might fail again, she tried, because she knew that with hard work, determination and skill, the odds would turn her way and someday . . . she would succeed."
Normally, I'd tell the rest of the story, but I decided to stop there. Like I said, my kids have heard it a million times.
The Scribe looked over and shocked me. "Aren't you going to finish?"
I snorted. "You actually want to hear the rest?"
"Well," she said, "maybe just one more time."
"Okay." I smiled. "Mama Hirsch decided to try again. She pretended she was smarter than Anne of Green Gables, better than Peter Pan. She strolled into that audition, and although most of the girls in her grade were there trying out too and watching her, she stood in front of everyone and she blew their socks off."
"She did what to their socks?" The Hippie asked.
"Nothing . . . I just meant to say, she did real good."
"Mom, is this a true story?" The Scribe asked. " 'Cause every time you tell it, you get happier and happier toward the end."
"It's because it has a good moral. What did you learn from it?"
"That . . . I need to keep trying?" she asked. "I guess you're right. I have two more chances to run for student council. If I don't try, then I have no chance at all. But if I keep at it, maybe someday I'll win."
"That's the spirit. Just don't give up."
"You know what, I won't. I learned something else that will help me win. That kid who got onto the council, he taught it to me."
"What was that?" I asked.
"If you really want to win, it helps if you suck up to the other students."
I laughed really hard. "I wouldn't suck up, but it's great to be friends with everyone. That kid will make a great politician someday," I said.
"A poli-what?" The Scribe asked.
"Nevermind," I chuckled and we went home.
So, #2 on my list is that my company is going out of business. How I told The Scribe to never give up, well I'm not living it. I guess change is inevitable though. And that isn't always a bad things, right?
I'll tell you more about things later. I'll leave my business up for a few days if you want to see what I'm talking about and why it's so hard saying "goodbye."
Here's the link to my baby: