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The Dartmouth
July 20, 2025 | Latest Issue
The Dartmouth

President Higgins

As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be the president. It didn't matter what I was president of, as long as I was the president. I used to tell people I was going to be President of the United States someday.

In grade school, I ran and lost for class president. That should have been my first clue as to how stupid politics is. Two "cool" kids got up and blithered about how they would get us free food and cable TV and stuff like that, these are 13-year-olds, mind you.

Meanwhile, my speech was about integrity and discipline, etc. etc. blah blah blah. Everyone clapped politely, even though they couldn't make out a word I was saying. Needless to say, the teachers liked my speech, yet I lost in a landslide. What exactly did that mean? It meant that I didn't have to go to the principal's office to get yelled at every time something went wrong. But at the time, I was upset about it.

During one summer, I was the president of a club in Annapolis that did bake sales and stuff to raise money to donate to a summer camp we were all in. Again, all this involved was getting yelled at by parents whose children in the club were getting caught drunk, etc. etc. blah blah blah. We raised a lot of money, though, and I felt pretty good about that. I even got to give a little speech at the end of the camp. Everyone clapped politely, even though they couldn't make out a word I was saying.

Then came high school. There I was, a lowly freshman walking through the parking lot, when a teacher I knew, who happened to be the moderator of the student council, pulled me aside and asked if I wanted to run for Sophomore class president. SOPHOMORE CLASS PRESIDENT!!! What a great idea! Real politics, real issues, etc, etc blah blah blah. I found a campaign manager who knew how to use MacDraw, he made me some posters, and we were off! My only competition was another freshman who knew less people. And make no mistake, it's exclusively a popularity contest. I was in every clique: the nerds because I was smart, the cool kids because I played football, and the neighborhood clique because we all grew up together. I knew so many people at my high school that people were pissed I couldn't remember their names when I went back for a party this Thanksgiving: they were under the impression that we were good friends. I knew everyone. I could put a face to a name so easily. I made a poin

t of saying hi to everyone whose name I knew every time I saw them, and saying it before they could. So I trounced the other guy in the election. Sophomore year, I trounced the guy who ran against me for Junior class president. Junior year, I destroyed, absolutely destroyed, my opponent (the candidates got to see the results). And all it got me was three years of headaches, planning social events, kissing up to the admistration and being everybody's best friend. I even got to give a little speech at graduation. Everyone clapped politely, even though they couldn't make out a word I was saying.

So naturally, people from home ask me now if I'm involved with campus politics here -- some sort of Brandon Walsh schmoozing person who "really cares" about the college. To their surprise, I say "Hell no!" I can't even specify why not. Why didn't all the ambition I brought with me through high school, all the pent up needing to be cool and popular and especially visible come along with me to Dartmouth?

The simplest answer I can find is that of all the people I knew in high school, I still talk to exactly four people. Mike, Martin, Luke and Chris. All the effort I made to be friendly to people and develop pseudo-relationships did not last, and I knew it from the moment we left graduation. And, regrettably, it will be the same with Dartmouth.

Of course, this invovles admitting to myself that I'm phony. Sadly, I am. Or have been. Acknowledgement of phonyness is a tough thing to deal with. I no longer want to say hi to people who I know, because it doesn't make sense to make pretenses of friendship. Why bother? Yet by not being friendly, I can be labelled a jerk, or a "hard guy." I've written countless columns about being genuine, yet I can't even back my own words up. I dunno. It's all too much to deal with.

A good politician would remember people's names after ten years and would still pretend that they were great friends. I am not that person. As it turns out, I am not a leader. I am not a follower, though, either. I'm a behind the scenes guy. I no longer wish to kiss up to get ahead. Granted, kissing up and being phony are two of society's intractable side effects, but I don't think I want to be President of the United States anymore. It just doesn't make any sense to be a slave to recognition. Student Assembly is great, and they've done some cool things. But I think I'm going to let them worry about what's going on, get involved in smear campaigns, and play big man on campus. It just isn't worth it to me anymore.