Timothy Luke Hopkins

A Letter to Future Presidential Nominees

The following letter was found in the archives of Mt. Eagle Elementary School, referencing the great election of 1994, where young Timothy Luke Hopkins of Mrs. Signet’s class took on Danilo Hernandez of Ms. Harris’s class, in what was arguably the closest sixth grade presidential race of all-time. Some of the tips in the letter seemed relevant to today’s current political climate, so it seemed appropriate to share. My apologies for any and all outdated reference and swear words.

Photo:
Ken Roberts Photography

Dear future presidential candidates,

It is from my extended experience studying presidential campaigns – I was, most recently, favored as the future 6th grade class president of Mount Eagle Elementary School, after all – that I beg you to reconsider your presidential run.

Or, if you can’t be convinced to reconsider, at the very least, allow me to give you advice on how to run a more effective campaign, based on my experience.

My first piece of advice – know not only why you want to win, but also how you plan on winning. I wanted to win so I could be more like President Bill Clinton, our 43rd president of the United States. His defeat of the incumbent president, George Herbert Walker Bush, in 1992 was inspirational to me. In every speech, interview and even his general demeanor, Clinton was the coolest guy in the room. One of the perks of becoming president is that it automagically makes you the coolest person in the room. It’s just science. My strategy on how I would win lacked – how do you say? – existence. The only television I watched until recently was the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, the Cosby Show and whatever shows turned up on the TGIF lineup each Friday night. They didn’t teach much about politics but they did seem to weave in moral plots every show.

But to win, you need an actual platform. Mine was inspired from Clinton’s famous line, “It’s the economy, stupid.” My slogan: “It’s the extended recess, stupid.” I must admit, that slogan didn’t work out as well as I’d hoped it would, but it had promise. I mean, come on, kids love recess and want more. Anyway, you can’t just yell out that you’re winning and expect that to gain you popularity. That will never happen, ever.

My second piece of advice is to surround yourself with a campaign team that is in it to win it. I have a big family, so, naturally, I reached out to my big sisters, Tara and Sara, for help with everything from buttons, posters and arts and crafts products to my final speech. They were there for me through the end, with unwavering support. I secretly think that they felt bad for me being the youngest and shortest kid in the sixth grade glass. My opponent, Danilo, was one of the oldest and tallest in the class, and gained popularity for his ability to slam a basketball on the six-foot rims. We’re in sixth grade, that can’t be natural. I needed a springboard to do that. At any rate, make sure you pick a team that has your back, no matter what their cause may be.

My third piece of advice is to guilt your friends early and often into supporting your run. My friends were divided between the two classes – half in Mrs. Signet’s with me, the other half in Ms. Harris’s with Danilo. I failed to secure the early support based on a silly rule that your campaign manager could only be chosen from within your own class (Can you believe that’s an actual rule?). My first choice was Aaron Johnson, my best friend. He was excited to get to use the campaign manager title to get extra attention from girls. With the rule banning him from running my campaign, naturally, he ran my opponent’s campaign. He could have helped secure my victory early on, what with his ability to dance like Michael Jackson and singing ability – we would’ve had the girl vote in both classes on lock! But I failed to tap into whatever it took to make sure he was on the team, so that was a mistake on my part, I guess. You need support, especially early on, and it’s never too soon to phone a friend and guilt them to no end why they must support you.

My third piece of advice is to grow thick skin. I mean that literally, in part. You will be a target – expect dodge balls, basketballs, footballs and large beach balls during crabwalk soccer to fly at you at higher-than-usual speeds during recess and gym class. Do not wince, blink or cry. Do not let them see you as weak. Also, there will be extra juicy rumors about you flowing through the hallways every single day. Ignore them, no matter what. Do not let them phase you.

My fourth piece of advice is to know your audience and speak their language. I have two examples of how my opponent, Danilo, dominated me on this front. His campaign slogans were catchy, sure, but they were also bilingual. That gave him an advantage in my school where there was a large Spanish-speaking population. He knew the language and I didn’t. For example, one of his campaign slogans was, “Danilo Para Tranquilo!” That means, “Danilo For Peace!” He stuck me in a corner with that one in two ways: first, it was in two languages; second – was I anti-peace? No. But his pro-peace stance made my rebuttal to the ad impossible.

My second example of speaking your audience’s language is in the speech to end all presidential speeches. My own speech was pretty unmemorable. I had beads of sweat rolling down my head the whole time – I’m shy, so that comes with the territory when standing in front of a gym full of people. But Danilo’s speech is the one that stood out the most. As far as politics go, it was the best, shortest political speech in history.

He walked up, said he was proud to be running and that if he were elected, he would make sure to take care of the needs of each and every student.

And, if they voted for him, he promised to never to let anyone down.

That’s it. Well, not exactly. The final part of his speech utilized his strength in languages over me. He ended by saying, “Vote for Danilo!” in both English and Spanish. It caused a stir in the crowd immediately. And, to top it off, he led the crowd in a soccer chant. “Ole! Ole! Ole! Oleeeee! Oleeee! Oleeee!” The crowd echoed and launched upright, from their crouched, Indian-style seated positions and repeated each chant like puppets, on cue, in unison – not once, not twice, but three times. I can’t watch soccer games anymore because of this.

So, to top things off, he thanked the crowd – again, in English and Spanish – and walked off the stage with the biggest smile in the world. I slouched in my chair and my heart sank down to my stomach. It was the final, huge blow to the Hopkins for President Camp. So, again, figure out your audience and speak all of their languages, not just your own.

My fifth piece of advice is to be gracious in both victory and defeat. I know there are rumors floating around as to how I reacted when I heard the results, but I’d like to clarify my side of the story.

As the vote tally came to an end, I was called in to the computer lab. My feet resisted every step along the way. I admit, I felt like a man defeated before he knew the results. I arrived to Danilo waiting in a chair by one of the computers. His face was just as pale as my own. Ms. Harris came into the room and quietly shut the door behind her. She pulled a chair next to us and, after a few moments of darting her eyes back and forth between the two of us with one of those soothing yet annoying smiles, she spoke, in a soft, gentle tone, “The results are in, boys, and it was a real close one. One vote determined the winner.” She glanced down at the card in front of her as if she didn’t already know the answer, and said it slowly, “The new sixth grade class president will be… Danilo.”

Now, there are rumors that say that I broke in to tears. Those are false. You see, what happened was that I had bad allergies that day and I’d accidently poked myself in the eye with an eraser earlier in the day, so that may’ve appeared like sad tears to the uninformed. That was very unfortunate. I do admit, though, that it wasn’t the news I wanted to hear. Danilo broke out his big smile, just before he saw my completely reasonable and justified waterworks. “I’m sorry, man,” he said. “You did good, too.” He was so genuine in the way he said it, I couldn’t stay mad at him. He was so calm, cool and collected – he was much more mature than me, and ready to be president. If every winner and loser in all races could act as dignified and respectful as Danilo did that day, our world would be a better place. Please, keep that in mind.

My last piece of advice – well, it isn’t really advice, but more like a favor – is that I’d like for you to ask the powers that be at Mt. Eagle Elementary School to make the election results of 1994 open to the public. As indebted to Ms. Harris as I am for her balanced delivery of the “results,” I want to be sure the count was correct, for verification purposes. Maybe there was only a single vote that separated our race, I don’t know. But I’d like to be sure.

So, in conclusion, I humbly ask that you take this expert advice – and my favor – to heart before considering your run. The balance of recess time, efficient lunch lines and ice cream sandwich prices hang in the balance. Do not take the decision to run for president lightly – it may – no, will – haunt you for the rest of your life.

Sincerely,

Timothy Luke Hopkins
Mt. Eagle Elementary School Class of ‘94

This was read at As Was Written on November 4, 2011