It’s been a tough week for the Syracuse University Student Association.

A week full of long meetings, mistrust, figuring out the route and schedules for the Final Four buses and grappling with the difficult decision of how much money First Year Players should receive to build next year’s set of “Moby Dick.”

Amid all of this, Allie Curtis has been the target of much criticism. How can students trust an SA president to install bike repair centers on campus if her administration can’t go two student newspapers printed without scandal?

To that, I say: chill.

It’s hard being president, I know. I was president of my eighth-grade class.

You’re probably thinking, “Sarah, why aren’t YOU the SA president?” Because let’s face it, my reign would be flawless. But as my dear friend George W. Bush said after two terms, a war and the accumulation of lots of debt, sometimes, you just have to put your horse in reverse and give someone else a shot.

That is, as long as you’re not Dick Cheney (cue rim shot).

The battle between my eighth-grade contender and I was not new. We’ve all seen these archetypes before: corrupt guy vs. less corrupt guy. Ugly white dude vs. less ugly white dude. Michele Bachmann vs. logic.

Here, it was the classic blonde vs. brunette. I, the blonde, was running impulsively. She, the brunette, actually wanted to be class president.

I quickly learned the first rule of politics: If you act like you’re more fun, more people will vote for you.

Nowadays, I call this “pulling a Biden.”

“Sarah will make the school shine,” said posters lining the hallways, decorated with shooting starts and plenty of glitter.

I chatted it up with different groups, pretending to laugh along with the popular kids and humming “You’re Never Fully Dressed Without a Smile” while passing the drama kids. I somehow faked my way into Honors math so I had it in with the nerds, and I was semi-decent playing soccer, so I had plenty of pretend friendships with the jocks.

And if there had been a teenage pregnancy, you know I would have kissed that baby.

While I played The Friendly Politician, my opponent handed out pencils, which were found rolling on classroom floors.

The day we gave our speeches, I addressed the hot-button issue:

“My fellow eighth-graders, I speak tonight for the dignity of hot lunch and the destiny of our middle school. As your president, I promise there will be hair in our food no longer. The lunch ladies will wear hairnets, if it is the last thing I do. No longer will strands of gray and darker gray be found in our $2.25 meals. There is no hot dog problem. There is no sloppy Joe problem. There is no soft pretzel problem. There is only a hair problem — and we shall overcome it.”

With that, I got the weird-kid-who-could-name-all-of-the-presidents-in-order’s vote, and won.

As my first act as president, I stormed into the principal’s office and demanded to speak with him. Waving a personally highlighted document, I told him it was unacceptable that our lunch ladies didn’t wear hairnets, and demanded a change in our lunch lady hygiene policies.

And he smiled at me. An it’s-cute-you-think-you-have-power smile.

Being eighth-grade class president didn’t mean sh*t.

But did realizing I was powerless stop me from fulfilling my presidential duty? No, sir! Instead of pouting and doing nothing, I did what any inexperienced and dewy-eyed president would do — I dragged my class into massive debt.

It is known now as The Ugly Shirt Scandal: A teacher handed me a catalogue and asked if I liked a shirt. I thought the shirt was ugly, but I said I liked it. She bought the shirts for a class fundraiser. No one bought them. We didn’t make a profit, and my class was the poorest graduating class in the history of my town.

So the point is, whether it’s Obama, Bush, Curtis or me — have mercy on your leaders. It’s hard mattering so much, and those of us who are elected officials can’t help that we’re so charming with little substance.

It’s the curse of the politician.

Sarah Schuster is a sophomore magazine journalism major. Her column appears weekly in Pulp. She can be reached at [email protected].

Published on April 11, 2013 at 12:09 am