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When I was in high school, I became interested in school politics. I observed that the election process was a type of popularity contest – combined with entertainment. The winning candidates most successfully lured their voters with artwork (posters) and or humorous speeches that left a name recognition which was about the only key to victory. Both the poster art and the public speaking were right up my alley and combining this with a low key schmoozing, I soon found that I had successfully been elected to the office of class president. A certain ego gratification accompanied the position and I enjoyed the feeling of being a chosen leader – even if the choosing process relied on the lowest level of discretion.
At any rate, I soon found myself engaged in a situation where certain fairly inconsequential decisions were to be made by myself and others, working in various committees. I quickly discovered that, this aspect of the presidency was tedious and uninteresting. And what if, at times, the decisions arrived at were not my own or ones that I could stand behind ethically? (I am speaking strictly of my own personal ethics here, not the bland ethics of high school politics).
Things eventually came to a head when I was called upon to organize a class dance to raise money. I was enthusiastic about this chore. I felt as if my own tastes and sensitivities were on trial and I was eager to make the event one that would be enjoyed and remembered by all. I quickly ran into trouble. I had located a fantastic venue for what I envisioned as a magical night of music and romance. A local community hall, located some distance from the school campus, featured a breathtaking view from a vantage point above the harbor. At night the lights of the town sparkled magically off the water and the hall was surrounded by a lovely forest. It was perfect and the price was modest, allowing good profits for the class. I was excited to present my plans to all who would be involved.







