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Published on 03/30/1998 All articles from this issue

Presidential aspirations

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By Kerri Havnen Gordon

The Living Experiment

I have no idea what possessed me to say yes. When I received the phone call from the nominating committee asking me to be president of our school's PTA next year, I roared. Between howls I said things like you-have-got-to-be-kidding and get-outta-here. But even as I heard the committee laughing in the background at my reaction, I knew they were serious, and I gathered my composure enough to ask a few questions, fully intending to turn it down.

I sobered when listening to a seemingly endless laundry list of responsibilities. And then there were the meetings to attend - lots of them, some with substantial names like "The Presidents' Council." They sounded very important; I could practically see Bill Gates or Clinton sitting across from me listening in rapt attention to my brilliant ideas.

I perked up when I heard about the trip to San Diego for the statewide PTA convention. I envisioned sticking around long enough to get my name badge and a few morning doughnuts before ducking out and hitting the beach.

The idea began to sound do-able, and I told the committee that I would sleep on it and call them in the morning. I didn't get much sleep that night. I drifted between wakeful, almost rational processing of the idea to toss-and-turn nightmares where I pitched a tent on the school blacktop and huddled inside with a lantern, sleeping bag, and cell phone. Since I would be spending all my time at school anyway being presidential, I might as well sleep there. After all, Bill Clinton sleeps where he works. So could I. I'm sure my husband and kids would understand.

The next day I received a hard copy of the president's duties, which had been read to me the night before but which I had tuned out in favor of my visions of Bill Gates and beaches. My eye got stuck on the phrase, "agendize the monthly PTA meetings." "Since when did agenda become a verb?" I wondered as I flipped open my dog-eared dictionary and found, to my relief, that there was no word agendize. It seemed to me one of those pretentious words, like calendarize, that people make up to sound more important. "If I do this president thing, there will be no agendizing," I proclaimed to my empty living room. There, I had already made my first executive decision. I was beginning to feel the part.

Seeking guidance, I polled my friends whose children attend other schools. They said things like, "you're nuts," and "see you in a year." They also know me well enough to know I thrive when I'm busy and I wilt when I'm not. Never mind that my plate already seems brimming full: my hours at work are increasing, and my kids keep me jumping, and I really like doing my "small" jobs at the school like serving hot lunch and chaperoning field trips. But I guess I'm not busy enough. I think I'll be president of the PTA.

When election day came about a month later, I had grown reasonably accustomed to the idea. I even voted for myself. It was a landslide victory, since my co-president and I "ran" unopposed. Now will someone please tell me, when do we get our 25-year-old buffed male intern?

Kerri Havnen Gordon lives in Mountain View with her husband and two sons. She pledges a smooth and scandal-free term of office.