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Learn, Learn to Lead
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Twelve years ago in May, my friend Dawn and I were selected to represent our Middle School at the annual Junior Leadership Seminar in Koblenz, Germany.
This was not as prestigious as it may sound. Each Department of Defense Dependent School in the region was supposed to send two representatives, one from the seventh grade and one from the eighth. Our school in Garmisch had two seventh graders and four eighth graders that year, all of us sharing a classroom together. I went because none of the other eighth graders especially wanted to go, and Dawn went because the other seventh grader wasn’t allowed to go. Being selected may have been an honor for kids from bigger schools like Augsburg or Berlin, but it didn’t mean much to us.
Prestige aside, Dawn and I left for Koblenz with reasonably good intent. We were misfits, but so were the other four kids in our class. We were awkward, but we had each other. Dawn also had her giant Encyclopedia of Witchcraft and a big rubber lizard named Mr. Elizabeth, and I had the start of a new science fiction novel in a college-rule notebook with an ancient ballpoint pen. We would represent our school honestly, or not at all.
I remember little of the conference itself. I still have my old activity guide, with none of the worksheets filled in and my school’s name misspelled on the cover. We were split into groups, we discussed cooperation and consensus, and it was all very boring. By our second day there, Dawn had made a big impression with her Encyclopedia and Mr. Elizabeth. Her innate weirdness eclipsed any interest anyone had in how to set an agenda or how to encourage productivity. Her roommates had decided that Dawn was a witch, and when Dawn asked if I wanted to be a vampire, I said yes.
There were at least a hundred bored, restless middle schoolers at the Leadership conference that year. We all went to our group meetings and sat through the seminars, but the second the lectures were over, Dawn and I were surrounded. We were the closest thing to entertainment the conference had to offer. The other kids wanted badly to believe us, and it didn’t matter that I was sitting in the sunshine as I described being a vampire, or that for all our supposed supernatural power, Dawn and I were memorizing the Four S’s of Success along with everyone else. On our third day we all took a field trip down the Rhein, but rather than looking out at the crumbling castles on the hills or the outcropping of rocks in the river where the Lorelei lured sailors to their deaths, the future leaders of America were huddled around us. Did Dawn fly on a broomstick? Could I handle a cross? Were we telling the truth? Really?
One kid tried to stab me in the heart with a toothpick. I couldn’t see the toothpick in his hand, and thought at first he was reaching for my breast. We all laughed about it later.
By the fourth day, Dawn and I were done with being popular. The kids were still swarming us, but we were ready to be left alone. We started being noncommittal - not admitting that we were just kids, but not playing along, either. We wanted the joke to die on its own. At least two other people wanted the joke over, too, but they wanted it executed. One was a popular girl from a bigger school - her first day at the conference had been promising, with lots of attention from cute boys and admiring girls. By the third day, at the height of the witch/vampire craze, no one really noticed her. She watched us with open hostility. When she walked into the courtyard in her pretty new dress and found the boy she was after asking me about holy water, she flipped. She reported us to the second person who hated our joke - a school official named Grantham, one of the organizers of the event.
On the fourth night of the conference, Grantham pulled the two of us from our group meetings and told us he knew about our conspiracy, he knew we’d been planning it since we left Garmisch, and he knew who we really represented. He said if we didn’t confess and admit to him and the other students that we weren’t witches and vampires, he would call our parents and have them drive to Koblenz that night to pick us up. Dawn commented that her parents probably wouldn’t make an eight-hour drive in the middle of the night, and Grantham started yelling. Our “coven”, evidently, wouldn’t protect us from being expelled.
(That a grown man was so threatened by two conspicuously nerdy thirteen-year-old girls suggests to me that he maybe shouldn’t be working in a school, and that he turned a harmless joke into a production of The Crucible suggests deeper mental illness, don’t you think?)
Dawn retreated into silence when Grantham started babbling about covens. At this point I was in tears - I was thirteen, it was just a joke, and this crazy old dude was scaring me. I didn’t want anyone calling my parents, I didn’t want to be in trouble at school, I just wanted this guy to quit foaming at the mouth and leave me alone. I caved. I apologized and promised to tell the other kids it wasn’t true. Grantham didn’t believe that it wasn’t a conspiracy and didn’t believe that there wasn’t a coven, but the two other adults (who had sat silently through his tirade) accepted my apology and let us go.
We moved quietly through the fifth day, avoiding social contact. The popular girl was jubilant. Dawn and I sat together through the closing ceremonies, refusing to sing along with the Leadership song (Learn…Learn to Lead! We Are Proud! We Are Free!), eyeing Grantham with hatred. When the bus came the next morning, Dawn got on holding Mr. Elizabeth, and I followed, carrying my bag and her Encyclopedia. It was the closest either of us came to popularity, and it was enough. Our middle school coven welcomed us home.
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November 30th, 2007 at 1:15 pm
that is a FANTASTIC story!
it reminds me of my own primary school existence. coming in at 3rd grade, the new girl with the “american” accent who never lived in the states, lived in ethiopia but was not starving. the teacher assigned a girl to befriend show me around, at break time she showed me the bathroom and the play gound, she ended the grand tour adding “and you know where the classroom is” and promptly left me on my own.
i tried to hang out with the other new girl who seemed to know some kids in the class, but after a few days i was expelled from that group too with a simple “why are you always following us?” to which i answered proudly “i am NOT following you!” and kept walking straight as they turned, pretending that was my path all along.
i spent the rest of that year playing by myself, making up games, solving non existent mysteries, longing to go home where i could play with my brother, speak out broken amhara and american english and not have to explain ourselves.
the next year another tck arrived at school, her name was Jenny, and she was cool because she had actually LIVED in america and had a jerry curl. we became friends because we both spoke english only and had that tck connection that we can have even when we don’t know about the concept or its consequences. everyone wanted to be friends with Jenny so by default i ended being a part of the “popular” gang of which my first tour guide was a thriving member. it didn’t hurt that my our house was right opposite school and thus kids could come over and swim after school.
my popularity lasted all of a year, it ended dramatically when, feeling eclipsed by my quirky nature and the fact that i had visited a bunch of countries, the head of the popular group decided to ex communicate me and 2 friends
ok, i have rambled a bit, its just that fickle “popularity” of pre-teen and teen-dom, in your story reminded me. i wish i had had an encyclopedia on witchcraft and a fake lizard named mr. elizabeth…
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November 30th, 2007 at 3:38 pm
I’m glad you liked it. I just realized that my story was more like thirteen years ago - I wrote that story as a way to remember my friend Dawn, who died a little over two years ago. Dawn was one of the very few people I actually stayed in touch with, and losing her was like losing a huge chunk of myself and my history. Her death made me realize how the people you know connect you to your own past and the people you’ve been. I’ve lost touch with so many people over the years. Thankfully, the internet has made it possible to reconnect. Even if I don’t write much and don’t stay close, it’s comforting to know that people who remember me are still there, and all I have to do is reach out and type.
On another note, being unpopular made me sad when I was younger, but I grew to appreciate its benefits.
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December 1st, 2007 at 7:02 am
I really like this story!
I am sorry to hear about your friend Dawn 
Yes the internet indeed has helped us reconnect with people we didn’t think will still remember us.
Just like everyone, I used to wish I was one of the popular kids but I don’t think it would have been possible for me due to other reasons. But after I grew out of that I realized it wasn’t so important after all. But as a teen, it was hard to understand that…
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April 9th, 2008 at 8:35 pm
I enjoyed reading your story! It makes me wonder how this story would have turned out different had “Harry Potter” been popular at that time. Oh boy..
Had I been in your shoes in middle school, I would not have understood why the popular girl was so mean to you. One article I read addressed a “mean girl” mentality and the psych behind her is that she sees it as a threat to her persona and control of people when someone gets more attention. I think it’s in her defense system to do her best to ensure she remains THE popular girl.
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April 9th, 2008 at 8:41 pm
“my our house was right opposite school and thus kids could come over and swim after school.” -> This is so cool, Warona. This is unthinkable where I live now. haha.
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April 9th, 2008 at 8:45 pm
I am sorry to hear that Nika. =(
Dawn is probably smiling at you from Heaven.
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April 10th, 2008 at 2:44 am
“When she walked into the courtyard in her pretty new dress and found the boy she was after asking me about holy water, she flipped.” And then the popular pretty girl of course went and used her charms to manipulate this insecure older male into making life hell for you two….how classic and disgusting….she’ll go on doing this for the rest of her life I bet.
Sadly this is the way the world is though…
*sigh*
The other truth is that 13 year old boys are more interested in ‘vampires’ and ‘holy water’ than they are in pretty girls. This part is kind of funny and brings a smile to my face.
Thank you for sharing this story with us and sorry to hear about Dawn…
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