Mattie Mae for President

You know, being in fourth grade isn’t always easy. Sometimes I wish I could go back to Kindergarten where my teacher was nice and didn’t have a big wart on her chin. In fourth grade the boys really start acting crazy. They make fun of you for everything. The math starts getting harder too. And for a fundraiser this year, we were supposed to sell candy again. I think a carnival would be a lot more fun. And for our class field trip, we were going to the same play we saw last year. I thought it would be neat to go on an archaeological dig. The boys even liked that idea. Now in order to change all the nonsense I just told you about, I would have to run for class president so I could have a say in some things. You know, represent the class. Lucy Patterson was jealous of me and she decided to run for class president too. She even tried to steal some of my ideas. But she didn’t want to go on an archaeological dig; she wanted to go to the spa instead so we could learn how people give manicures and cut hair. BLECH! The boys hated that idea.

Lucy made posters of herself that said, “Patterson for President”. She even gave everyone a pencil with her name on it. I just wrote a speech. Her speech lasted fifteen whole minutes when Miss Culpepper had told us we could only have ten. I never got to give my speech and I still won, but Lucy Patterson says it’s because people felt sorry for me.

On Election Day, the air conditioner was out. It was so hot Miss Culpepper had to put a box fan in the window. She put another one on the rolling cart next to the lectern; only it was facing toward the class. I was standing next to it and my red hair was so long it got sucked into the back of the fan. I just kind of went with it. I did a lot of screaming and carrying on until Jeremy Blackwell jumped up and turned the fan off. The whole room smelled like burned hair. Lucy Patterson ran out of the room yelling, “FIRE! FIRE!” and I just stood there with my head stuck against the fan until Miss Culpepper brought the scissors and chopped me loose. By the time I was free all the other classes were outside because when the principal, Mr. Lincoln, heard Lucy yelling he pulled the fire alarm. My mom said she wanted me to get a haircut anyway because I wake up with a rat’s nest every morning. She took me to her hairdresser after school and had the rest of my hair cut to the same length. Now I look like Little Orphan Annie. The boys all start singing, “The sun’ll come out….tomorrow!!!” when I walk by in the hallway. Anyway, I don’t care if they make fun of me. I still get to be class president.