Presidential Election Speeches
Presidential Election Speeches
John Endecott Memorial Academy's senior class had all been herded into the auditorium in order to hear the speeches from their candidates for class president and vice president. Vice presidential speeches would be given first, followed by presidential speeches. Candidates spoke in alphabetical order by last name. After the conclusion of all speeches, the voting students would all cast their ballots together.
This dress had felt stifling when she’d first put it on. Now, it felt suffocating.
It was a little different to her usual fare, a bit more, oh, what term best described this dress? A little more formal, perhaps? But also, not too formal, this wasn’t an interview for God’s sake. And it wasn’t in her favoured light pink or blue, but was instead a deep, earthy green colour. It had seemed perfect when she’d picked it out, one of the few hand-me-downs from Claudia that actually fit her properly; the sort of garment that showed she was taking this whole thing seriously, but that she was still approachable, still just another classmate at the end of the day.
It sure as hell didn’t feel like that now. It felt like a fucking vice squeezing her stomach and her lungs tight, cutting off her airflow. This speech had taken up so much of her spare time and had been living in her head rent free ever since she’d started it; if she fucked it up, then she felt as though she might just pack her bags and leave the goddamn country forever. Maybe it’d be for the best if she just passed out, or straight up died on stage. That’d be a quick and easy way of preventing any horrible stumbles or freudian slips.
Ugh. No, no that wasn’t an option, not least because there wasn’t a sniper hiding in the back row who could take her out at the first horribly awkward stumble. She had spent so much time and effort writing and memorising this speech, pushing her other hobbies and even her additional studies to one side to accommodate it. She couldn’t afford to let all that energy - and, of course, all those sleepless nights - go to waste.
The walk up to the microphone standing up on stage felt much shakier than she would have liked. She hoped, oh Christ did she hope, that it didn’t show so badly on the outside. She adjusted the stand a little, raising it up a notch, before she cleared her throat.
“H… um, hi.”
Oh, good lord, there was a lot of people in the audience today. She really hadn’t fully comprehended just how many students made up the John Endecott Memorial Academy’s senior year until, well, right now, when she was standing on stage facing all of them, and that wasn’t even getting into all of the teachers and other staff members who were gathered in here for one reason or another.
Trinity took a deep breath. Come on, focus. She needed to give a good first impression at the very least if she wanted to take anything away from this, and right now she was totally bombing that. She cleared her throat once more, before looking forwards, hands neatly clasped in front of her.
“Excuse me. Hello, everyone. Thank you for joining me here today. My name is Trinity Ashmore, and I am aiming to become your class president.”
“I believe I should be a familiar face to the majority of everyone here, but for those who are less acquainted with me, I’m a member of the school film Club, knitting club, and, of course, the student council. I play violin in our school band, and I offer my services as a tutor to anyone who needs them; if you’re ever struggling with any of your schoolwork, then my metaphorical doors are always open.”
She gave her best attempt at a smile towards the crowd. She couldn’t help but wonder what she sounded like from an outsider’s perspective. Too detached? Too robotic? Maybe, maybe not, but better that than attempting to crack a poorly thought out joke and falling flat on her face. Many a promising speech had been self-sabotaged by awful attempts at humour, and comedy had never been Trinity’s strong suit in the first place.
“As you can see, I have attempted to foster connections within many different areas of John Endecott Academy, both academic and extracurricular. I have spent the majority of my school life attempting to get involved with and keep in touch with friends and classmates across as many activities and interests as possible, even those I don’t personally participate in, and I believe this is a vital trait for your class president to have. I-ah…”
Trinity bit her tongue, briefly forgetting that she had hurriedly crossed out the words that had almost left her lips, at the very last moment of her very final rehearsal of this speech. Her ideas could stand on their own well enough. She didn’t need to drag down her competitors in order to better herself.
“Our time here together at high school is one of the most vital periods of our lives. This year in particular should be one that shapes our future. I can’t think of anything worse than anybody here graduating this year and feeling as though their time was misspent, or that they had nobody to talk to, and no-one who would listen. If you elect me as your student council president, then I will make certain that this does not happen.”
“I want every single person in this room to have a voice. I want everyone here’s contributions to be felt. I want every single club, every single team, and every single society to be highlighted for the talents they showcase and the skills that the members within them display. If anyone feels underrepresented, underappreciated, or hel- ah, heck, underfunded, then I want to be the first port of call for you, and I will make sure this changes for the better.”
“Thank you all so much for your time. And please remember, a vote for me, Trinity Ashmore, is a vote to ensure that your opinion and your voice matters.”
A quick and shaky bow, and Trinity hurriedly trotted back offstage to join the rest of her fellow presidential wannabes, trying, and failing, to stop herself from mentally replaying her own speech and identifying every single error, annotated and underlined in bright pink marker.
It was a little different to her usual fare, a bit more, oh, what term best described this dress? A little more formal, perhaps? But also, not too formal, this wasn’t an interview for God’s sake. And it wasn’t in her favoured light pink or blue, but was instead a deep, earthy green colour. It had seemed perfect when she’d picked it out, one of the few hand-me-downs from Claudia that actually fit her properly; the sort of garment that showed she was taking this whole thing seriously, but that she was still approachable, still just another classmate at the end of the day.
It sure as hell didn’t feel like that now. It felt like a fucking vice squeezing her stomach and her lungs tight, cutting off her airflow. This speech had taken up so much of her spare time and had been living in her head rent free ever since she’d started it; if she fucked it up, then she felt as though she might just pack her bags and leave the goddamn country forever. Maybe it’d be for the best if she just passed out, or straight up died on stage. That’d be a quick and easy way of preventing any horrible stumbles or freudian slips.
Ugh. No, no that wasn’t an option, not least because there wasn’t a sniper hiding in the back row who could take her out at the first horribly awkward stumble. She had spent so much time and effort writing and memorising this speech, pushing her other hobbies and even her additional studies to one side to accommodate it. She couldn’t afford to let all that energy - and, of course, all those sleepless nights - go to waste.
The walk up to the microphone standing up on stage felt much shakier than she would have liked. She hoped, oh Christ did she hope, that it didn’t show so badly on the outside. She adjusted the stand a little, raising it up a notch, before she cleared her throat.
“H… um, hi.”
Oh, good lord, there was a lot of people in the audience today. She really hadn’t fully comprehended just how many students made up the John Endecott Memorial Academy’s senior year until, well, right now, when she was standing on stage facing all of them, and that wasn’t even getting into all of the teachers and other staff members who were gathered in here for one reason or another.
Trinity took a deep breath. Come on, focus. She needed to give a good first impression at the very least if she wanted to take anything away from this, and right now she was totally bombing that. She cleared her throat once more, before looking forwards, hands neatly clasped in front of her.
“Excuse me. Hello, everyone. Thank you for joining me here today. My name is Trinity Ashmore, and I am aiming to become your class president.”
“I believe I should be a familiar face to the majority of everyone here, but for those who are less acquainted with me, I’m a member of the school film Club, knitting club, and, of course, the student council. I play violin in our school band, and I offer my services as a tutor to anyone who needs them; if you’re ever struggling with any of your schoolwork, then my metaphorical doors are always open.”
She gave her best attempt at a smile towards the crowd. She couldn’t help but wonder what she sounded like from an outsider’s perspective. Too detached? Too robotic? Maybe, maybe not, but better that than attempting to crack a poorly thought out joke and falling flat on her face. Many a promising speech had been self-sabotaged by awful attempts at humour, and comedy had never been Trinity’s strong suit in the first place.
“As you can see, I have attempted to foster connections within many different areas of John Endecott Academy, both academic and extracurricular. I have spent the majority of my school life attempting to get involved with and keep in touch with friends and classmates across as many activities and interests as possible, even those I don’t personally participate in, and I believe this is a vital trait for your class president to have. I-ah…”
Trinity bit her tongue, briefly forgetting that she had hurriedly crossed out the words that had almost left her lips, at the very last moment of her very final rehearsal of this speech. Her ideas could stand on their own well enough. She didn’t need to drag down her competitors in order to better herself.
“Our time here together at high school is one of the most vital periods of our lives. This year in particular should be one that shapes our future. I can’t think of anything worse than anybody here graduating this year and feeling as though their time was misspent, or that they had nobody to talk to, and no-one who would listen. If you elect me as your student council president, then I will make certain that this does not happen.”
“I want every single person in this room to have a voice. I want everyone here’s contributions to be felt. I want every single club, every single team, and every single society to be highlighted for the talents they showcase and the skills that the members within them display. If anyone feels underrepresented, underappreciated, or hel- ah, heck, underfunded, then I want to be the first port of call for you, and I will make sure this changes for the better.”
“Thank you all so much for your time. And please remember, a vote for me, Trinity Ashmore, is a vote to ensure that your opinion and your voice matters.”
A quick and shaky bow, and Trinity hurriedly trotted back offstage to join the rest of her fellow presidential wannabes, trying, and failing, to stop herself from mentally replaying her own speech and identifying every single error, annotated and underlined in bright pink marker.
Teddie beamed out across the audience as he approached the microphone. It didn’t matter how things went after this point: at that moment, all eyes were on him, waiting to see what he did. So many real faces in front of him, not glazed over behind a computer screen. He couldn’t help but giggle a little to himself from the excitement, but being careful not to let it ruin his dapper smile.
On his breast was a large button of a stylised duo: Diamond VIII and himself, cool as cucumbers. Hand drawn, naturally, and adorned on his shirt for the past week. It went well with his poster campaign, featuring various highlights of his mascot days from before lockdown. When he’d found out that the school wouldn’t actually allow him to wear his costume on stage, he’d had to amend the posters to include his face. Brand recognition, you know?
“What’s up, John Endecott! It’s your school mascot and president hopeful: Teddie Boyd!”
Getting the crowd on his side was a bit different when he was playing himself, rather than a costumed icon, but he’d been working on his speech. With zero stage fright or cause for concern, he had little reason to expect he’d choke on his lines or forget where he was going. He’d have to be some kind of idiot to do that up in front of everyone.
“Can I just start by saying how fricking awesome it is to see everyone in person again? Seriously, I’ve missed everyone so much, and it’s really awesome that we can all be in the same place again! Take that, Covid! We have persevered!”
He pumped his fist in the air, a show of solidarity for all the struggles people have had to go through because of that bastard little virus.
“And that’s why I’m running for student council president, my friends. I’ve gotten to know so many of you over the years, and I want to get to know the rest of you too! Whether you’re in the sports crowd, an art kid, or just want to cram those books, we are all part of this school community! And even if you don’t feel like you fit in, for whatever reason, I promise you that there is a place for you at this school!
“Sure, it’s senior year, so you might think: what’s the point, Teddie? We’re all going to different places soon. I don’t care any more.”
He found himself strolling around the stage at this point, mic having found its way into his hand as he carried on this hypothetical conversation.
“Well, my friend, if the last year has taught us anything, it’s that we have to live in the moment! Forget putting things off because they’re temporary; do it right now! Do the things you want to do, live your life to the fullest!
“And a vote for me will get that done! No more underfunded sports department! I know all the teams, probably better than anyone in this school, and I know exactly what we need to stop being stuck in the dark ages of high school sports! And more funding for all the other clubs and departments too! It’s our education, who are the boomers to deny us what we deserve?!
“Vote for Teddie Boyd, vote for your school mascot! Let’s make this year our year! No-one’s going to tell us different! Not people stuck in the past, not some microscopic little prick, not any doubts in the back of your heads! Vote for me, and let’s make it happen!
One last double fist as he made his way back to the centre. Big finish, end on school spirit.
“Go Terriers!”
Grinning ear to ear from that crowd-fuelled buzz, he waved his way away from the mic and back to his seat.
Pretty good, he thought, considering how much he had started winging it there.
On his breast was a large button of a stylised duo: Diamond VIII and himself, cool as cucumbers. Hand drawn, naturally, and adorned on his shirt for the past week. It went well with his poster campaign, featuring various highlights of his mascot days from before lockdown. When he’d found out that the school wouldn’t actually allow him to wear his costume on stage, he’d had to amend the posters to include his face. Brand recognition, you know?
“What’s up, John Endecott! It’s your school mascot and president hopeful: Teddie Boyd!”
Getting the crowd on his side was a bit different when he was playing himself, rather than a costumed icon, but he’d been working on his speech. With zero stage fright or cause for concern, he had little reason to expect he’d choke on his lines or forget where he was going. He’d have to be some kind of idiot to do that up in front of everyone.
“Can I just start by saying how fricking awesome it is to see everyone in person again? Seriously, I’ve missed everyone so much, and it’s really awesome that we can all be in the same place again! Take that, Covid! We have persevered!”
He pumped his fist in the air, a show of solidarity for all the struggles people have had to go through because of that bastard little virus.
“And that’s why I’m running for student council president, my friends. I’ve gotten to know so many of you over the years, and I want to get to know the rest of you too! Whether you’re in the sports crowd, an art kid, or just want to cram those books, we are all part of this school community! And even if you don’t feel like you fit in, for whatever reason, I promise you that there is a place for you at this school!
“Sure, it’s senior year, so you might think: what’s the point, Teddie? We’re all going to different places soon. I don’t care any more.”
He found himself strolling around the stage at this point, mic having found its way into his hand as he carried on this hypothetical conversation.
“Well, my friend, if the last year has taught us anything, it’s that we have to live in the moment! Forget putting things off because they’re temporary; do it right now! Do the things you want to do, live your life to the fullest!
“And a vote for me will get that done! No more underfunded sports department! I know all the teams, probably better than anyone in this school, and I know exactly what we need to stop being stuck in the dark ages of high school sports! And more funding for all the other clubs and departments too! It’s our education, who are the boomers to deny us what we deserve?!
“Vote for Teddie Boyd, vote for your school mascot! Let’s make this year our year! No-one’s going to tell us different! Not people stuck in the past, not some microscopic little prick, not any doubts in the back of your heads! Vote for me, and let’s make it happen!
One last double fist as he made his way back to the centre. Big finish, end on school spirit.
“Go Terriers!”
Grinning ear to ear from that crowd-fuelled buzz, he waved his way away from the mic and back to his seat.
Pretty good, he thought, considering how much he had started winging it there.
Chloé smoothed down her outfit- blue skirt, white blouse, JEM colours- and took to the stage. As she passed the other candidates, many of them her friends, she weighed her chances against theirs. She believed, obviously, that she had the right ideas for the school- she wouldn’t be up here otherwise. But would the mass of students she looked out at really vote based on policy? Probably not. If it came down to a straight popularity contest, could she win?
She took the mic, beamed at the audience. They smiled back. Maybe she could.
“Hi, John Endecott! Most of you already know me- I’m Chloé Delacroix, I’m on the Cheer team, the Debate team and the Model UN and now I’m honoured to be running for Senior Class President alongside all the other amazing candidates up here today. Everyone here has some great ideas for our school, and I bet many of you do too.” Years of practice on the debating team guided her hands subconsciously as she spoke, gesturing for emphasis at the audience and the other hopefuls. She focused on her words; well-spoken, well-paced and very well-rehearsed.
“JEM is a fantastic school, but each and every one of us can make it even better- not just in the upcoming elections, but throughout the whole school year!”
Another gesture, this one widening outwards to convey length. Personally, Chloé felt the year was flying by already, but there was a lot of time left and she wanted them to know she was prepared for that commitment.
“If you vote for me now, my main agenda will be making the student council more accessible, representative and transparent for you guys. I’ll set up a group chat so wherever you are at any time, you can be a part of the process as and when you want to. I’ll also establish an anonymous Q&A on Insta so you can pose questions or suggestions in a way that you might feel more comfortable with. I promise to work tirelessly to try and coordinate and organise the changes YOU want to see in our school. Remember- whoever you are, your voice matters.”
“Also on my agenda is organising support for all our fantastic athletes, and all the other extracurriculars we’re lucky enough to have here at John Endecott. As a Cheerleader, there’s nothing I’ve enjoyed more than being on the front lines for all your achievements, and with the right fundraising and a touch of school spirit I know we can overcome the struggles our teams have faced and leave this school with some nice, shiny trophies to remember us by!”
She paused. Hopefully, this was their time to cheer.
“One more thing- getting everyone involved means making sure no one is left out. We’re a community of kind, respectful people here at JEM, but we can and should always go further. Whatever your gender, race, faith, or sexuality, I pledge to make you feel included and bring an end to any discrimination you may experience.”
That was key. There were a lot of minority students here at JEM who deserved the reassurance that their President was in their corner.
“I’ll keep you all updated on more specific policies I have in mind, but for now I’ll leave you with the big decision. Remember, a vote for me isn’t just a vote for today- it’s a vote for tomorrow, and the next day, and every day we have left at JEM! Let’s make our senior year awesome. Thanks for listening!”
She smiled again, and still they smiled back.
She took the mic, beamed at the audience. They smiled back. Maybe she could.
“Hi, John Endecott! Most of you already know me- I’m Chloé Delacroix, I’m on the Cheer team, the Debate team and the Model UN and now I’m honoured to be running for Senior Class President alongside all the other amazing candidates up here today. Everyone here has some great ideas for our school, and I bet many of you do too.” Years of practice on the debating team guided her hands subconsciously as she spoke, gesturing for emphasis at the audience and the other hopefuls. She focused on her words; well-spoken, well-paced and very well-rehearsed.
“JEM is a fantastic school, but each and every one of us can make it even better- not just in the upcoming elections, but throughout the whole school year!”
Another gesture, this one widening outwards to convey length. Personally, Chloé felt the year was flying by already, but there was a lot of time left and she wanted them to know she was prepared for that commitment.
“If you vote for me now, my main agenda will be making the student council more accessible, representative and transparent for you guys. I’ll set up a group chat so wherever you are at any time, you can be a part of the process as and when you want to. I’ll also establish an anonymous Q&A on Insta so you can pose questions or suggestions in a way that you might feel more comfortable with. I promise to work tirelessly to try and coordinate and organise the changes YOU want to see in our school. Remember- whoever you are, your voice matters.”
“Also on my agenda is organising support for all our fantastic athletes, and all the other extracurriculars we’re lucky enough to have here at John Endecott. As a Cheerleader, there’s nothing I’ve enjoyed more than being on the front lines for all your achievements, and with the right fundraising and a touch of school spirit I know we can overcome the struggles our teams have faced and leave this school with some nice, shiny trophies to remember us by!”
She paused. Hopefully, this was their time to cheer.
“One more thing- getting everyone involved means making sure no one is left out. We’re a community of kind, respectful people here at JEM, but we can and should always go further. Whatever your gender, race, faith, or sexuality, I pledge to make you feel included and bring an end to any discrimination you may experience.”
That was key. There were a lot of minority students here at JEM who deserved the reassurance that their President was in their corner.
“I’ll keep you all updated on more specific policies I have in mind, but for now I’ll leave you with the big decision. Remember, a vote for me isn’t just a vote for today- it’s a vote for tomorrow, and the next day, and every day we have left at JEM! Let’s make our senior year awesome. Thanks for listening!”
She smiled again, and still they smiled back.
Darryl makes his way onto the stage with a smile on his face, he's dressed in his usual style with no fancy adornments. He takes his place and waits a moment before speaking.
"So I started working out what I was going to say for all of this and if I'm being honest I was struggling. It wasn't that I couldn't think of what to say, the content and topics were easy. The problem I was having was that it all sounded generic to me. It just didn't feel like it captured the real meaning I was aiming for.
"I can stand and speak about all the things I promise to get you. Better lunches, more funding for the athletics and arts departments, and those are things I look at and know need improving and aim on fixing. But as I sat there figuring out what to say I thought about what my favorite times at JEM have been and I thought back to all the times I've sat in the bleachers to watch the Terriers play along with you and cheered them on or booed the opposition, or the ref or the arguments or discussions I've had with members of the Model UN or just with people at lunch over meaningless things and that's when it all fell into place for me.
"JEM is this weird mix of old traditional New England private school and newer public school and even through all of that we've made our own community here and made our own memories that we'll keep with us as we all move on into college and beyond.
"And I think that's the most important thing for me and for our senior year, we only have one more year in this weird school with this weird community we've built and I want to make sure that this last year is the most memorable and enjoyable year we've had here. We lost last year and I'm not going to let us lose this one.
"Vote for me and I'll fight to give you the best year you've had here. Plus if you personally think I'm annoying, imagine unleashing that on the teachers, that's gotta be worth something right?"
"So I started working out what I was going to say for all of this and if I'm being honest I was struggling. It wasn't that I couldn't think of what to say, the content and topics were easy. The problem I was having was that it all sounded generic to me. It just didn't feel like it captured the real meaning I was aiming for.
"I can stand and speak about all the things I promise to get you. Better lunches, more funding for the athletics and arts departments, and those are things I look at and know need improving and aim on fixing. But as I sat there figuring out what to say I thought about what my favorite times at JEM have been and I thought back to all the times I've sat in the bleachers to watch the Terriers play along with you and cheered them on or booed the opposition, or the ref or the arguments or discussions I've had with members of the Model UN or just with people at lunch over meaningless things and that's when it all fell into place for me.
"JEM is this weird mix of old traditional New England private school and newer public school and even through all of that we've made our own community here and made our own memories that we'll keep with us as we all move on into college and beyond.
"And I think that's the most important thing for me and for our senior year, we only have one more year in this weird school with this weird community we've built and I want to make sure that this last year is the most memorable and enjoyable year we've had here. We lost last year and I'm not going to let us lose this one.
"Vote for me and I'll fight to give you the best year you've had here. Plus if you personally think I'm annoying, imagine unleashing that on the teachers, that's gotta be worth something right?"
“Good mor--” Marshall shouted into the mic a little too loud before clapping his hand over it and starting over at a more reasonable volume. “Good morning, John Endecott Memorial Academy!
“I could talk for a while about what I’d personally like to see. But the specifics don’t matter regarding that, because what I want to see most is a school where everyone can be the very best they can be!” Marshall clenched his hands enthusiastically. “Where they are happy to try their hardest! I’ve been lucky in that most of my preferred subjects and extra-curriculars have been catered to! But I know this isn’t the case for everybody!
“To be the president that you need… I have to know what you need, and what this school needs! I can guess, in some places! Money being balanced disproportionally in a school that needs it elsewhere, which means at the very least fundraisers to help the artistically inclined students and faculty! Or replacements for the shoddier pieces of equipment!
“Alas, fundraisers won’t solve everything. I know that. And there is only so much that can be done without the faculty listening. The majority of the staff works hard and listens, but… unfortunately, sometimes that is not the case. Sometimes they're stubborn, and bossy, and allocate resources without listening to those around them!
“But I promise you, John Endecott. ...I am very, very loud! And some have called me tenacious or variations of that!” Marshall slammed a fist into his open palm enthusiastically, beaming ear to ear. “I can’t promise I can make every change you’d individually want. I might not even agree with them all. But I will make sure you are all heard, and if it’s not in my power to change… then I will make sure it is heard by those who can! So vote Marshall West for president, and I will do that confronting for you!”
He moved slightly away from the mic, then quickly hurried back.
“Oh, and I’ll probably be running loops around the field at lunch if you need to find me, but otherwise I’ll leave my timetable pinned up on the meeting room door or wherever!”
“I could talk for a while about what I’d personally like to see. But the specifics don’t matter regarding that, because what I want to see most is a school where everyone can be the very best they can be!” Marshall clenched his hands enthusiastically. “Where they are happy to try their hardest! I’ve been lucky in that most of my preferred subjects and extra-curriculars have been catered to! But I know this isn’t the case for everybody!
“To be the president that you need… I have to know what you need, and what this school needs! I can guess, in some places! Money being balanced disproportionally in a school that needs it elsewhere, which means at the very least fundraisers to help the artistically inclined students and faculty! Or replacements for the shoddier pieces of equipment!
“Alas, fundraisers won’t solve everything. I know that. And there is only so much that can be done without the faculty listening. The majority of the staff works hard and listens, but… unfortunately, sometimes that is not the case. Sometimes they're stubborn, and bossy, and allocate resources without listening to those around them!
“But I promise you, John Endecott. ...I am very, very loud! And some have called me tenacious or variations of that!” Marshall slammed a fist into his open palm enthusiastically, beaming ear to ear. “I can’t promise I can make every change you’d individually want. I might not even agree with them all. But I will make sure you are all heard, and if it’s not in my power to change… then I will make sure it is heard by those who can! So vote Marshall West for president, and I will do that confronting for you!”
He moved slightly away from the mic, then quickly hurried back.
“Oh, and I’ll probably be running loops around the field at lunch if you need to find me, but otherwise I’ll leave my timetable pinned up on the meeting room door or wherever!”
Natasha took her place behind the podium, resting her hands on the finely crafted wood and clearing her throat.
"Greetings, my fellow students. As I'm sure you all are already aware, we live in a fundamentally unjust world."
Her voice was clear, enunciated, and projected a kind of power her usual speaking voice didn't normally carry.
"That is not, however, because of the nature of the world, but rather it has been built to be that way by those that hold the reigns of power in our society. They are the ruling class, the capitalists, the owners of property and the means of production, henceforth referred to as the bourgeoisie. Through their control of the means of production and by extension the economy, they have thoroughly dominated and subjugated the working class, much the same way that feudal lords dominated their serfs in ages past. Every day they steal surplus value from the productivity of the working class, taking what precious little time we all have, and leaving us only with the scraps they deign to give us. They sit on their stolen hoards like great dragons, congratulating themselves on their wealth as children go hungry and the unhoused die on the streets.
"Through the enormous quantity of wealth that the bourgeoisie have pillaged from the working class, they exercise control over the politicians that the people of this nation elect, ensuring that no matter who is in power, the laws of this land and the bourgeoisie state that enforces them will always favor their interests, one way or another. This control that they exert is a rot that has infected the very core of our society, and it has tainted everything that we have built. Nowhere is this rot more prevalent than in the very education system that we all participate in.
"In our schools, we are forced to learn material at a pace dictated not by our own imaginations and abilities, but instead by the interests of the bourgeoisie state. While we may wish to become well-rounded, creative, analytical, and enlightened people, that is not what the bourgeoisie-controlled state wants of us. Instead it wants us to be docile, incurious, conformist, and most of all obedient. It punishes us for truancy, punishes us for falling behind, punishes us for not adhering our minds and hearts to maintaining our grade point average. Anyone who is not able to keep up with those demands is punished and thrown by the wayside, either forced onto the streets or fed into a prison system that keeps them under control and enslaved to the bourgeoisie.
"The education system that we toil away underneath is fundamentally broken. Those in control of it are victims of bourgeoisie decadence just like all other elected officials. None display it as openly and unrepentantly as Principal McArthur, with his slashing of the school's fine arts budget, only to favor the much-lauded STEM subjects that are in such high demand by the ruling class. I'm sure you all are aware of how much he belittles us all, and how he views us as beneath him. He is a microcosm of everything wrong with our society, and I seek to change it for the better.
"I am not so foolish as to suggest that electoralism will solve our problems right after I spent so much time decrying it. We live under a dictatorship of the bourgeoisie, and while we are fed the illusion of control through our electoral politics, in the end it is all theater, and this student council election will not change that. However, this may be a chance for us to plant a seed of real change, a seed that may one day grow into a mighty oak of revolution. Vote for me for student council president, and I will turn this superficial position into a beacon for real change, and lead you all towards a brighter future.
"A future that begins with me personally escorting Principal McArthur to our school's gulag. The detention room, where he belongs."
She raised one fist into the air.
"Power to the workers of the world, and the student body of JEM."
"Greetings, my fellow students. As I'm sure you all are already aware, we live in a fundamentally unjust world."
Her voice was clear, enunciated, and projected a kind of power her usual speaking voice didn't normally carry.
"That is not, however, because of the nature of the world, but rather it has been built to be that way by those that hold the reigns of power in our society. They are the ruling class, the capitalists, the owners of property and the means of production, henceforth referred to as the bourgeoisie. Through their control of the means of production and by extension the economy, they have thoroughly dominated and subjugated the working class, much the same way that feudal lords dominated their serfs in ages past. Every day they steal surplus value from the productivity of the working class, taking what precious little time we all have, and leaving us only with the scraps they deign to give us. They sit on their stolen hoards like great dragons, congratulating themselves on their wealth as children go hungry and the unhoused die on the streets.
"Through the enormous quantity of wealth that the bourgeoisie have pillaged from the working class, they exercise control over the politicians that the people of this nation elect, ensuring that no matter who is in power, the laws of this land and the bourgeoisie state that enforces them will always favor their interests, one way or another. This control that they exert is a rot that has infected the very core of our society, and it has tainted everything that we have built. Nowhere is this rot more prevalent than in the very education system that we all participate in.
"In our schools, we are forced to learn material at a pace dictated not by our own imaginations and abilities, but instead by the interests of the bourgeoisie state. While we may wish to become well-rounded, creative, analytical, and enlightened people, that is not what the bourgeoisie-controlled state wants of us. Instead it wants us to be docile, incurious, conformist, and most of all obedient. It punishes us for truancy, punishes us for falling behind, punishes us for not adhering our minds and hearts to maintaining our grade point average. Anyone who is not able to keep up with those demands is punished and thrown by the wayside, either forced onto the streets or fed into a prison system that keeps them under control and enslaved to the bourgeoisie.
"The education system that we toil away underneath is fundamentally broken. Those in control of it are victims of bourgeoisie decadence just like all other elected officials. None display it as openly and unrepentantly as Principal McArthur, with his slashing of the school's fine arts budget, only to favor the much-lauded STEM subjects that are in such high demand by the ruling class. I'm sure you all are aware of how much he belittles us all, and how he views us as beneath him. He is a microcosm of everything wrong with our society, and I seek to change it for the better.
"I am not so foolish as to suggest that electoralism will solve our problems right after I spent so much time decrying it. We live under a dictatorship of the bourgeoisie, and while we are fed the illusion of control through our electoral politics, in the end it is all theater, and this student council election will not change that. However, this may be a chance for us to plant a seed of real change, a seed that may one day grow into a mighty oak of revolution. Vote for me for student council president, and I will turn this superficial position into a beacon for real change, and lead you all towards a brighter future.
"A future that begins with me personally escorting Principal McArthur to our school's gulag. The detention room, where he belongs."
She raised one fist into the air.
"Power to the workers of the world, and the student body of JEM."