I was one of four people in a small high school class in Brooklyn, New York City, in October 2005. The teacher (allegedly, but that is neither here nor there) made a reference to the then-upcoming election. But before I relate what was said in response, let me tell you about one of my classmates in that class.
There was a young lady in the class – we will call her GF. Why GF? Those are not her initials – far from them actually, but she once bragged loudly that she was a close friend of the Gotti family.
Anyway.
I had many classmates who I had no opinion of whatsoever (most likely mutual). For example, I learned not too long ago that a young lady who sat in front of me in 11th grade had recently married someone who was one year below me. Despite her having been my classmate for two years and my next-desk neighbor for one, I do not think we ever exchanged more than two words. I was no more close with GF than the aforementioned young lady, but I nevertheless had an opinion of GF. My opinion was informed by the fact that she annoyed me – sometimes intentionally. My thoughts tended to go along the lines of “I have never looked into someone’s eyes and felt such emptiness before” – things like that. I will submit for the record that I was not the only one who felt this way about the girl who loudly bragged about being friends with the Gotti family. It is precisely because I was not the only one that enough people counted to determine that she dropped the word “like” 73 times in a 10-minute presentation in history class.
Suffice it to say, I did not think that GF was the sharpest tool in the shed. I will submit for the record that some of the boys in the class who independently picked up on the “like” problem were themselves not top students. But even that is a difference of degree. Back in my day – nostalgic moment incoming – the boys did not all talk like valley girls. Yes, some may say things like “I’m not your bro, bro” – but that is better than a deluge of likes. I think so, at least. But I digress.
GF did love horses. She may have actually been knowledgeable about horses. I am not sure. She may have also just been bragging about having horses. To be sure, I am not enough of an equine expert to judge. Again, I digress.
Let us return to the original topic. The teacher made reference, in late October 2005, to what was then an upcoming election. I remind you again that this occurred in New York City. GF immediately chimed in:
Ugh! Don’t tell me Bush is going to win again.
“GF”
I did not say anything, leaving it to the teacher to tell GF that it was an absolute certainty that Bush would not win again in November 2005. Some of you may immediately pick up on the problem with what GF said. Those of you who are not privy to American elections in 2005 for one reason or another (such as not being American), you will likely note that I have been making a point of emphasizing the date here.
When GF said “again,” she was referencing then-U.S. President George W. Bush’s most recent election victory. That victory had occurred a mere one year prior, in November 2004. That is to say two things. Firstly, Presidential elections occur every four years, meaning that the next election would not occur until 2008. Secondly, it would be quite impossible for George W. Bush to “win again” because the 22nd Amendment to the United States Constitution, which has been a topic of discussion in some of my presidential election statistics articles, limits individuals to two terms in the White House. George W. Bush had won re-election in 2004, meaning that he had won a second term.
What made GF’s concerns more headache inducing than they would have been in a vacuum is the fact that the 2004 election was actually much-talked about in our school and GF was a student the previous year. I referenced in an earlier article how my self-described socialist teacher managed to convince the entire class that John Kerry was en route to a crushing, decisive victory in the 2004 election, only to leave them confused in the aftermath when they learned that the United States is bigger than a small private school in Brooklyn, New York City, a borough which gave 61% and 51% of the vote to Walter Mondale in 1984 and George McGovern in 1972 respectively in elections where those candidates each lost 49 out of 50 states (including New York in both cases). Now one may ask: Was she in those classes? She was not in most of those classes – but the class where GF and her friend sat next to me and made a point of being annoying was, in fact, taught by everyone’s favorite socialist teacher.
(Said teacher was a great guy despite being a pinko.)
Now let us return to the small October 2005 class. Was the “teacher” of this class who made reference to 2005 elections and simultaneously taught an American History class (in which I was not a student) where every single one of her students failed the Regents examination (which is an accomplishment – I scored 99, not to brag – but that is another story) in error? She was not. There were, in fact, New York City elections on November 8, 2005. Our teacher was referencing the then-upcoming New York City mayoral election, which would see incumbent Mayor Mike Bloomberg face off against Fernando Ferrer, who had secured the Democrat nomination for mayor in a tough battle against some guy named Anthony Weiner, who would fade into obscurity and never be heard from again, much less play an unexpected dramatic role in a U.S. presidential election 11 years after the fact.
(Aside: I saw Mr. Weiner, later AKA Mr. Carlos Danger, campaigning on Montague Street in Brooklyn Heights a few days before the September 13, 2005 Democratic primary. There is no real story here, however. It was far less exciting than when I waited in the same Dunkin Donuts line as perennial candidate Jimmy McMillan in 2011.)
Mr. Bloomberg would go on to win decisively after massively outspending the uninspiring Mr. Ferrer for what would be his only easy win of his three mayoral election victories (Mr. Bloomberg famously, or infamously, managed to do away with the pre-existing term limits and win a third term in 2009). I submit that GF should have been more concerned with other elections on behalf of her Gotti friends. For example, the Brooklyn District Attorney was also on the ballot in November 2005 (that general election was uncontested, but I note it because it makes for a good punch-line).
Does my story end here? It does not! Let us skip ahead a few years – to May 2008 to be precise. In 2008, we were once again looking ahead to a presidential election, one that George W. Bush, pursuant to the United States Constitution, could not win again (setting aside his subpar poll numbers by that stage and all). The school held an event for graduating seniors and their families, a description which encompassed both me and GF. Teachers from various classes would take the podium and give out Excellence, Achievement, and Effort awards for academic proficiency (the first case) or because they wanted to (the third case and to a slightly lesser degree the second). The school actually did this for 9th-11th grade students as well (our high school was four years, unlike the Japanese high schools) – but separately from the seniors. I cleaned up with Excellence Awards in every real class. (I thought I deserved some award for gym since I was one of the only students who actually showed up for gym in the second half of the year instead of leaving school at lunch, but what can you do?)
I received an award for excellence as student editor of the high school newspaper, a role I discussed in an article about my creating a template for it. The teacher-editor of the paper, in giving me the award, claimed before the entire audience of teachers, graduating seniors, and their family that I had come up under his wing. I was equal parts unsurprised and perplexed – both at once despite their being apparently at odds with one another. So too quite understandably was my Mom, sitting next to me, and also my friend (who had been chosen as class valedictorian and also did quite a bit of walking to and from the front of the gym that evening), who had a pained, troubled look on his face. I learned after the fact that a few other teachers also found it an odd, albeit unsurprising in context, way to frame things. But this article is no more about me than was the recognition of my work as student editor of the school newspaper. This article is about GF.
(But allow me yet another digression: The teacher who allegedly brought me up under his wing is the same teacher I previously noted was greatly opposed to my male friend’s big hair – which was not in violation of the written dress code – while taking no issue at all with many of the girls flagrantly violating the dress code, including GF, albeit I do not recall GF being one of the top-tier flagrant dress code offenders.)
To the best of my recollection, I did not have a single class with GF my senior year. In fact, I am not sure I had any classes with GF the previous year either. Thus, I was not privy to GF’s in-class academic achievements in the way I had been in the first half of my high school tenure. But to be certain, even granting the fact that there were not too many difficult classes, her being called to receive excellence or achievement awards would have caught my attention.
The teacher who I learned that day had brought me up under his wing went up to present awards for his current events class. I did not know he had a current events class that year, much less who was in it. I personally had not had a current events class since the year GF expressed her learned concerns about then-President Bush’s prospects in the 2005 New York City elections. We discussed important matters in that class along with less important matters such as the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue using a non-model for its cover. I can say for certain that GF was not in my current events class because my current events class overlapped with the girl’s gym class and was thus entirely comprised of boys. But I digress. My dear mentor was reading out awards for his current events class when suddenly, he called upon a name I recognized to march to the front of a gym and receive a second-level Achievement award.
The name was GF.
I did a double take. GF? The GF who thought President Bush was running for president in consecutive years?
In announcing the award, the teacher who proudly announced that he brought me up under his wing stated that he had watched GF “blossom” in his class.
I thought to myself: “If my dear mentor, who brought me up under his paternal wing, says that she blossomed – she must have truly blossomed.” That is a lie. I probably thought about how I had genuinely not seen that line coming. I wrote in an earlier article about how Wataru Watari, the writer of the excellent Oregairu light novel series following several kids in an 11th grade Japanese high school class, stated that he felt as if he had finally brought his own time in high school to a close by writing and finishing his novel series – which concluded about 15 years after he had left high school. Now I never felt like I was at risk of being haunted by lingering high school regrets, but had I been, surely the blossoming would have rid me of any such melancholic sentiments.
Speaking of hindsight, perhaps it was that event for graduating seniors when I and GF stood on some common ground. We were both given awards for different things: Me for being the student editor of the high school newspaper for a year, her for showing up to a current events class. While we were ostensibly having our achievements recognized, our teacher’s remarks made it sound as if the awards were about him. In addition to the awards being seemingly self-serving on the part of the person giving the awards, the self-serving commentary was awkward in and of itself. I will happily concede that as twitch-inducing as the under the wing line was to anyone who had passing familiarity with me or the high school newspaper that year, it certainly beats blossoming. I submit for the record that there was probably no scenario in which my dearest big-winged mentor or anyone else present would have described me as blossoming, and I am quite all right with that. I suppose it could have been worse – maybe she could have blossomed under his wing. But we always have to be careful about breaking the metaphor (especially here) – blossoming surely requires sunlight.
I know not what happened to GF – but I have no reason to not wish her well, especially since she inspired me to think about the “like” verbal tic issue before it fully consumed the public discourse (note that well-wishes are not in any way coextensive with any opinions on blossoming). As we look forward to the 2024 presidential election in a few days, I know that she can at least be content with knowing that, notwithstanding the fact former President Bush is younger than one of the two candidates, Mr. Bush cannot, in fact, win again.
