By Abby Hendrickson

Bella and I gasp for air as we cram the last 8’ by 4’ into the back of my van. Mr. Hunter (our class sponsor) had picked up our wood order for the float construction, but we were left to transport it all from the back of his truck to mine. Somehow, it is always the two of us stuck carrying out class responsibilities. After half an hour of lifting all the heavy wood, we realized it wouldn’t fit. At that point, another officer and Mr. Hunter showed up to help remove all the hard work we just accomplished. The morning of our “Lazy Day” (as deemed by SCA) was spent sweating over slabs of wood much larger than us. How fitting. People can say what they want about me, but they can’t say I do not do the MOST for our class. 

It is finally that time. It is the last week we can work on hallways and to put it simply: I am losing my mind. Since being inducted in June, I have been storing cardboard like a chipmunk with nuts. My attic is over-run, and I am on my parents last nerve. Things are getting pretty crazy. 

My siblings have actually started teasing me about the state of my minivan, as it has been jam packed with cardboard and other supplies since the beginning of September. They say I love my school too much and they aren’t wrong. How kind and supportive they are.

I am literally pouring every essence of my being into hallways. I will NOT go down without a fight. Since our class lost to the entire school as juniors last year, I have been determined to lead them into the biggest comeback yet. Fourth to First. 

I cannot even begin to explain how stressed I am. I have to worry about and oversee T-shirt sales, the construction and production of the float, the hallways, and still try to keep up with my school work (as too many teachers are still assigning too much). Basically I am running on a maximum of five hours of sleep each day.

My friends have been so supportive, devoting themselves and any extra spare time they have to work on the hallways. A lot of the time though, I still find myself being the last one there. Scrubbing up the paint stains scattered across the entire hallway. By myself. 

One time, all of the heavy rolls of paper were still out. And all the paint cans. And the boxes of supplies. Basically, no one cleaned any of their stuff up. All the officers had left, and I watched with a heavy heart as the last four people meandered down the hall laughing. Once I saw their cars pull out (through the foyer windows), my eyes welled up with tears. I accepted the fact that I would have to put everything away by myself, and as a consequence, I would not be home until 6:30 in the evening. 

As I knelt over the paint cans defeated, my phone rang. One boy had forgotten his car keys and needed to be let back in the school. Upon seeing the mess I had become, he helped me clean up the entirety of the hallway. Chivalry is not dead yet. 

It is absolutely incredible how many times I have heard my name shouted out. Hundreds in the course of a week. Anytime someone cannot locate a specific paint color or brush, they come ask me. Even though I am clearly working on something and do not have the slightest clue as to where the desired object is. While it does only add to the stress, I can’t help but feeling good about it. They trust me, and come to me for direction. That was not something that happened between our class and past presidents. So, even though it is slightly frustrating, I always stop what I am doing and do my best to help them find the singular art supply they are searching for. 

I know to people (like my family) who do not understand the significance of the hallway tradition, my stress and hard work seems excessive and unnecessary. But, I want to do my very best as president.

I can’t let my class down in their final year. It is simply not an option.