Vice Presidential Election Speeches
Posted: Fri Aug 10, 2018 9:15 am
George Hunter High School's senior class had been gathered in its auditorium for the speeches of the 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.
Claudeson Bademosi stood to the side of the stage, waiting for his fellow vice-presidential candidates to be summoned to the front of the room. Public speaking may have been difficult for some people, but for Claude, this was old hat. Having a mother who spoke at length to her congregation made him a natural vessel for any and all lessons that he could absorb from her sermons, and once she'd learned that he was planning to run for student council, she had been eager to impart some lessons on to him.
Good eye contact. Stand up straight. Project your voice. Be sure of yourself, even if you stumble. Let the Lord speak through you.
That last one maybe didn't necessarily apply, not on this day, as Claude was about to speak to a multi-denominational student body, but he knew what she meant. The role of vice-president of the student council was an important one, and he felt like it was a role that he was virtually made for.
So here it was; the moment of truth. He took the microphone from the teacher and addressed the class.
"Good afternoon everyone! I see a lot of familiar faces out there, and why not?! George Hunter High School has been a place that I've been proud to call my high school for three years now. Since we'll soon be moving forward into our final year, I want to make sure that we all have the best senior year that we possibly can."
Claudeson strode around the podium as he spoke, keeping mobile and using more of a conversational cadence to his words.
"Many of you know me, and you know important that helping others is to me. I'm running to be your senior vice-president because I know exactly how much support our leadership is going to need. If I can be the man to stand behind our president if he or she needs a pillar, so be it! If you need someone with a demonstrated ability to support our variety of clubs and causes, you know that I'm always willing to be on your side."
He paused for a moment. He wanted to keep this short, and sweet.
"I'm not going to go on and tell you what I can and cannot do, but I can tell you that I will always have the well-being of our school at the forefront of my mind, and you will always be able to count on me. If you give me your support, you know that you'll always have mine. So please - vote me, Claudeson Bademosi for Vice-President!"
Claudeson stepped back and handed the mic to the teacher. He didn't want to go on, and he didn't want to bore the audience. They knew what they needed to do and whom they needed to make their decisions based upon. He figured that his reputation would speak for itself.
Julien had never much cared for dressing up like this, but of course his parents had insisted that he wear a dress shirt for the occasion. It did at least feel comfortable, but he'd be glad for the opportunity to slip back into something more his speed.
The occasion in question could be souring his opinion of it though; a nice dark blue number made of cotton that fit him just right. He'd done all the buttons up, uncomfortable as it had felt at first, so there wasn't exactly much skin on show. Going any further than that hadn't crossed his mind for even a moment. There was casual, and then there was really casual.
Being excessively laid back would go against the airs Julien wanted to project for this. He was an unknown to most of the people out there, so while coming across as uptight was out of the question it still needed to be evident that he took this seriously without making a fool of himself in front of them all. Putting himself out there was daunting enough already without thinking about the embarrassment it could easily wind up as.
He took the time to breathe, nice and slow. It would hardly stop him from being a bundle of nerves, but little things like that were important. Just in time too. Julien's number was up and someone showed up to get him.
Right before he actually walked out to step up to the podium he took a moment to pull his hair-tie away and let it hang loose. The full prim and proper look just wasn't his thing, and the anxiety roiling around in the pit of his stomach was bad enough already.
Now that he looked out at the crowd and really took in just how many unfamiliar faces were threaded through it, they all seemed to have the enthusiasm of someone watching paint dry. Julien could hardly blame them, but it didn't make life any easier for him and all the others who'd be at the podium... Something, anything, would have been nice. A glance off to the side showed him the confirmation that it was time to start talking.
"Hello, everyone."
As he began to speak the PA system reflected all the worst sides of his voice back at him, and he did his best to retain his composure as he almost heard the uncertainty in his voice but had to settle for a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Now, I'm aware that most of you here don't know me. But that works well enough for me, since I don't like being under the lens too much and I'm not standing up here because I have one sort of ulterior motive behind it or another. With that out of the way, I'll be getting straight to my points."
Julien took a measured pause, did his best to let some more warmth bleed into his smile and decided to pick the low-hanging fruit. As much of an obvious choice as it was, it still seemed to be quite a relevant one. He didn't think about how the hand holding the microphone gripped it so tight it had blanched.
"This year has been a divisive one for many of you, I'm fairly certain. Lines have been drawn about an awful lot of things; racism, sexism, gender identity and too many other issues to list," he said, reasoning that while perhaps it leaned toward being too vague he didn't care to slight the people who would be voting, "but I walk the line myself, so I can quite safely say that I don't want the school's money being spent on things leaning politically to one side or the other."
He'd gotten that out of the way reasonably well, by his own admittedly poor reckoning, and there was only one other point that he wanted to make. The less wasted time spent on this podium, the better. It could require some reparations to be made in private afterwards, and was a fucking horrible leap of faith for him to make about where Claudeson stood, but it was the strongest way that Julien could think of to wrap this up.
"Both the other candidates have their own points to make on the matter of money being spent, I'm certain, and of course I can't speak for the people running for senior president this year, but if you don't care for the idea of Faith or Claudeson being in a position to influence what goes through and what doesn't, well, that's why I'm here. So you have the red, the blue or the white. The choice is yours."
With that, he set the microphone back in its place and went calmly back into the wings, the smile on his face fading when he was out of view of the crowd. Disparaging his friend in such a manner could only be described as repulsive; he should have known better than to let stress take hold of him like that. An apology would definitely need to be made, to appease his conscience if nothing else.
Faith was beginning to realise that it took a lot of effort to look effortless.
She had worried for an awful long time about getting dressed today. Her Mom had made her wear a dress shirt. Wyatt had even given her one recently and this was the ideal time to wear it in order to show that it meant something to her, but without being obnoxious about it like wearing it to a meal or something. It was nice, too, the material was something that was so soft and light it hardly felt like it was there at all, and it was sky blue, which she'd always said was her favourite colour. It wasn't. Orange was her favourite colour, but the second someone had linked Clementine and Orange, she'd regretted her brain's insistence on loving the colour. At least tigers were sort of in now. "Fierce" or something like that.
Distractions aside, it had darker points of blue that faded up and down her figure, making it seem less plain and more casual, whilst being cut tight around her waist and stomach. It nailed just the image she was going for - clean cut, but not professional. Blue collar. Shit, she literally had a blue collar, didn't she. Man if she wrote a book she was going to make damn sure she pretended that was intentional. Maybe she'd make that her thing?
Wyatt, bless his heart, had been a little generous when giving measurements when ordering this thing however. It wasn't that it was too tight in the waist - although it cut it damn close, it just didn't quite hang right on her stomach and she really thought it made her look fat. But she'd acted confident when she'd told a few people that she thought it made her look good and they'd agreed so that was good enough for her. Besides, when Wyatt had delivered it in a box that looked it had 0 logos on it and she was pretty sure the silk lining inside of the box it came in probably counted as the second most expensive piece of clothing she owned. The first being what she was currently wearing. Some part of her gut twisted at that. Knowing Wyatt didn't expect, and likely wouldn't get even close to the same in money back. She couldn't afford it. Not in a year. And yet - She couldn't say no. That'd be rude too.
These sorts of thoughts clouding her head as she tried to just clear her mind and RELAX before she gave her speech, and tried to make an impression. She wanted to look so much different to the robotic, political types that were stumbling their way through awkward, wordy speeches with as much false grandeur as they could muster rather than being an actual politician and connecting with the audience. She'd even asked Wyatt and Demetri to be there in the crowd and she'd seen the people come in and they'd been there so that was kind of reassuring. I mean, attendance was mandatory, but Wyatt and Demetri weren't exactly the sort to not find some way to get out of this. She'd hoped it would have been easier, having a friendly face or two she knew was in the crowd that she could focus on, but now she was worrying she'd something stupid and they'd all see, but if she backed out now that'd be even worse.
It had taken a few moments to compose herself, as her name had been called and someone had gotten her. But she slowly began to felt things clear up, her memory return. She felt ill, still, her stomach churning as she stepped up to the podium. The crowd was full, thanks to mandatory attendance, but they all looked like their eyes had glazed over about 2 hours before the speeches had started. She'd have felt better if they were all already enraptured by the Political Process. She wouldn't have felt the pressure to be entertaining, in order to stir them all, disinterestedly looking at their phones. But, as she stepped into view, she did it with an easy, casual swagger.
She could do this, she told herself, or at least try. Be the change you want to see, and other assorted retweetable catchphrases that actually did not help as he wandering eye scanning the deadly still crowd of vaguely recognisable people, eventually latching on to the blue haired bitch named Sierra sitting there in the back row. She wondered if she'd notice her voice and look up from her phone. She hoped not. She didn't need the pressure of proving whatever her notions were wrong on top of it all.
As she got to the microphone, she gripped it nervously. Waiting for a signal to start, to begin her pre-planned out little routine which she was now realising was a list of bullet points not a script. Shit, she was going to have to improvise. The signal to start wasn't coming, but she was able to keep an easy, level smile as she looked off to the side, where she saw someone helping organise the schedule of the election miming with their hands to start talking. She tried her best not to turn her head too fast as she scanned the crowd, and then she started talking.
"Hello everyone."
There was a soft pause. Her voice sounded awful over the PA system, she decided, too nasally, and tinny and yet still somehow sounded like it carried a drawl with it. She hoped they didn't mistake her slightly more rustic accent for her having rustic values, because she was pretty sure she was better than that. Anyway. Not time to concentrate on that. People were looking at her now she had to keep talking.
"So, unlike everyone else here, I don't have some list of previous experience in leadership or politics, or even a long, pre-prepared speech, or anything like that. I'm just a regular student."
She let that hang there, for a moment, let them accept it. She thought she saw the tiniest bit of a nod from someone but maybe that was wishful thinking. She just wanted to make sure to give that the appropriate amount of weight.
"That's not the kind of person who's going to be elected President of Senior's, they're going to be someone who's mostly interested in their position being the launching board for whatever political career they hope to have after High School, rather than for the good of us - the people who go here. And, y'know, that's fine for them - But let's make sure it doesn't come at the expense of the well-being of the school."
She smiled, and decided to show she was absolutely not the Average Politician and raise a point that attacked herself before her opponents did, to show she was aware of her flaws.
"And - I know some of you might doubt my lack of partisanship, I've always been clear about where I stand - But I hope you can trust that that honesty bleeds over into when I say I don't want school money spent on either side of the aisle politically. "
Boom. Ok, she nailed that, she thought. Now, to cut them off quick. Short, sharp, no room for quibbles. Don't get bogged down in details, just give the perfect vibe and let people fill in the blanks. She'd read r/the_canon this morning desperately, looking down in the comment chains for descriptions of how he always made an impression. She guessed she was going to try and use some of that now.
Her expression shifted, knowingly twisting as she realised the cheesiness of the line she was about to pull out of nowhere to wrap things off. She really hoped Wyatt didn't make her a cap with this on because then she'd probably have to treasure a stupid moment for live.
"I guess I'm just asking yah to "
She tilted her head to the side, already mocking herself, catching eyes with Demetri for a second. He'd get the extra level of irony she knew it.
"Have faith in Faith" he rolled out, changing her tone without missing a beat, and then, without waiting for the crowd's reaction, calmly pretending as if she didn't hope they clapped her off. Either way it didn't matter once she disappeared from the view of the crowd, she was pumped. Her heart was pounding a million miles a second and she felt like she was hovering above the ground. She'd done it and she hadn't fucked it up.
She hadn't.
Fucked.
It.
Up.
"Yesssssssssss," she quietly cheered to herself when she was sure she was completely and absolutely alone, doing a little fist pump to herself, and wearing the biggest, shit eating grin on her face as she allowed herself a moment of personal celebration in which to revel in her lack of failure in something she'd always hoped she'd be good at. The smile didn't leave her face until later that night, when she lay in bed, wondering suddenly about exactly who was going to vote and if she even stood a chance of making it on.
Claudeson Bademosi stood to the side of the stage, waiting for his fellow vice-presidential candidates to be summoned to the front of the room. Public speaking may have been difficult for some people, but for Claude, this was old hat. Having a mother who spoke at length to her congregation made him a natural vessel for any and all lessons that he could absorb from her sermons, and once she'd learned that he was planning to run for student council, she had been eager to impart some lessons on to him.
Good eye contact. Stand up straight. Project your voice. Be sure of yourself, even if you stumble. Let the Lord speak through you.
That last one maybe didn't necessarily apply, not on this day, as Claude was about to speak to a multi-denominational student body, but he knew what she meant. The role of vice-president of the student council was an important one, and he felt like it was a role that he was virtually made for.
So here it was; the moment of truth. He took the microphone from the teacher and addressed the class.
"Good afternoon everyone! I see a lot of familiar faces out there, and why not?! George Hunter High School has been a place that I've been proud to call my high school for three years now. Since we'll soon be moving forward into our final year, I want to make sure that we all have the best senior year that we possibly can."
Claudeson strode around the podium as he spoke, keeping mobile and using more of a conversational cadence to his words.
"Many of you know me, and you know important that helping others is to me. I'm running to be your senior vice-president because I know exactly how much support our leadership is going to need. If I can be the man to stand behind our president if he or she needs a pillar, so be it! If you need someone with a demonstrated ability to support our variety of clubs and causes, you know that I'm always willing to be on your side."
He paused for a moment. He wanted to keep this short, and sweet.
"I'm not going to go on and tell you what I can and cannot do, but I can tell you that I will always have the well-being of our school at the forefront of my mind, and you will always be able to count on me. If you give me your support, you know that you'll always have mine. So please - vote me, Claudeson Bademosi for Vice-President!"
Claudeson stepped back and handed the mic to the teacher. He didn't want to go on, and he didn't want to bore the audience. They knew what they needed to do and whom they needed to make their decisions based upon. He figured that his reputation would speak for itself.
Julien had never much cared for dressing up like this, but of course his parents had insisted that he wear a dress shirt for the occasion. It did at least feel comfortable, but he'd be glad for the opportunity to slip back into something more his speed.
The occasion in question could be souring his opinion of it though; a nice dark blue number made of cotton that fit him just right. He'd done all the buttons up, uncomfortable as it had felt at first, so there wasn't exactly much skin on show. Going any further than that hadn't crossed his mind for even a moment. There was casual, and then there was really casual.
Being excessively laid back would go against the airs Julien wanted to project for this. He was an unknown to most of the people out there, so while coming across as uptight was out of the question it still needed to be evident that he took this seriously without making a fool of himself in front of them all. Putting himself out there was daunting enough already without thinking about the embarrassment it could easily wind up as.
He took the time to breathe, nice and slow. It would hardly stop him from being a bundle of nerves, but little things like that were important. Just in time too. Julien's number was up and someone showed up to get him.
Right before he actually walked out to step up to the podium he took a moment to pull his hair-tie away and let it hang loose. The full prim and proper look just wasn't his thing, and the anxiety roiling around in the pit of his stomach was bad enough already.
Now that he looked out at the crowd and really took in just how many unfamiliar faces were threaded through it, they all seemed to have the enthusiasm of someone watching paint dry. Julien could hardly blame them, but it didn't make life any easier for him and all the others who'd be at the podium... Something, anything, would have been nice. A glance off to the side showed him the confirmation that it was time to start talking.
"Hello, everyone."
As he began to speak the PA system reflected all the worst sides of his voice back at him, and he did his best to retain his composure as he almost heard the uncertainty in his voice but had to settle for a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Now, I'm aware that most of you here don't know me. But that works well enough for me, since I don't like being under the lens too much and I'm not standing up here because I have one sort of ulterior motive behind it or another. With that out of the way, I'll be getting straight to my points."
Julien took a measured pause, did his best to let some more warmth bleed into his smile and decided to pick the low-hanging fruit. As much of an obvious choice as it was, it still seemed to be quite a relevant one. He didn't think about how the hand holding the microphone gripped it so tight it had blanched.
"This year has been a divisive one for many of you, I'm fairly certain. Lines have been drawn about an awful lot of things; racism, sexism, gender identity and too many other issues to list," he said, reasoning that while perhaps it leaned toward being too vague he didn't care to slight the people who would be voting, "but I walk the line myself, so I can quite safely say that I don't want the school's money being spent on things leaning politically to one side or the other."
He'd gotten that out of the way reasonably well, by his own admittedly poor reckoning, and there was only one other point that he wanted to make. The less wasted time spent on this podium, the better. It could require some reparations to be made in private afterwards, and was a fucking horrible leap of faith for him to make about where Claudeson stood, but it was the strongest way that Julien could think of to wrap this up.
"Both the other candidates have their own points to make on the matter of money being spent, I'm certain, and of course I can't speak for the people running for senior president this year, but if you don't care for the idea of Faith or Claudeson being in a position to influence what goes through and what doesn't, well, that's why I'm here. So you have the red, the blue or the white. The choice is yours."
With that, he set the microphone back in its place and went calmly back into the wings, the smile on his face fading when he was out of view of the crowd. Disparaging his friend in such a manner could only be described as repulsive; he should have known better than to let stress take hold of him like that. An apology would definitely need to be made, to appease his conscience if nothing else.
Faith was beginning to realise that it took a lot of effort to look effortless.
She had worried for an awful long time about getting dressed today. Her Mom had made her wear a dress shirt. Wyatt had even given her one recently and this was the ideal time to wear it in order to show that it meant something to her, but without being obnoxious about it like wearing it to a meal or something. It was nice, too, the material was something that was so soft and light it hardly felt like it was there at all, and it was sky blue, which she'd always said was her favourite colour. It wasn't. Orange was her favourite colour, but the second someone had linked Clementine and Orange, she'd regretted her brain's insistence on loving the colour. At least tigers were sort of in now. "Fierce" or something like that.
Distractions aside, it had darker points of blue that faded up and down her figure, making it seem less plain and more casual, whilst being cut tight around her waist and stomach. It nailed just the image she was going for - clean cut, but not professional. Blue collar. Shit, she literally had a blue collar, didn't she. Man if she wrote a book she was going to make damn sure she pretended that was intentional. Maybe she'd make that her thing?
Wyatt, bless his heart, had been a little generous when giving measurements when ordering this thing however. It wasn't that it was too tight in the waist - although it cut it damn close, it just didn't quite hang right on her stomach and she really thought it made her look fat. But she'd acted confident when she'd told a few people that she thought it made her look good and they'd agreed so that was good enough for her. Besides, when Wyatt had delivered it in a box that looked it had 0 logos on it and she was pretty sure the silk lining inside of the box it came in probably counted as the second most expensive piece of clothing she owned. The first being what she was currently wearing. Some part of her gut twisted at that. Knowing Wyatt didn't expect, and likely wouldn't get even close to the same in money back. She couldn't afford it. Not in a year. And yet - She couldn't say no. That'd be rude too.
These sorts of thoughts clouding her head as she tried to just clear her mind and RELAX before she gave her speech, and tried to make an impression. She wanted to look so much different to the robotic, political types that were stumbling their way through awkward, wordy speeches with as much false grandeur as they could muster rather than being an actual politician and connecting with the audience. She'd even asked Wyatt and Demetri to be there in the crowd and she'd seen the people come in and they'd been there so that was kind of reassuring. I mean, attendance was mandatory, but Wyatt and Demetri weren't exactly the sort to not find some way to get out of this. She'd hoped it would have been easier, having a friendly face or two she knew was in the crowd that she could focus on, but now she was worrying she'd something stupid and they'd all see, but if she backed out now that'd be even worse.
It had taken a few moments to compose herself, as her name had been called and someone had gotten her. But she slowly began to felt things clear up, her memory return. She felt ill, still, her stomach churning as she stepped up to the podium. The crowd was full, thanks to mandatory attendance, but they all looked like their eyes had glazed over about 2 hours before the speeches had started. She'd have felt better if they were all already enraptured by the Political Process. She wouldn't have felt the pressure to be entertaining, in order to stir them all, disinterestedly looking at their phones. But, as she stepped into view, she did it with an easy, casual swagger.
She could do this, she told herself, or at least try. Be the change you want to see, and other assorted retweetable catchphrases that actually did not help as he wandering eye scanning the deadly still crowd of vaguely recognisable people, eventually latching on to the blue haired bitch named Sierra sitting there in the back row. She wondered if she'd notice her voice and look up from her phone. She hoped not. She didn't need the pressure of proving whatever her notions were wrong on top of it all.
As she got to the microphone, she gripped it nervously. Waiting for a signal to start, to begin her pre-planned out little routine which she was now realising was a list of bullet points not a script. Shit, she was going to have to improvise. The signal to start wasn't coming, but she was able to keep an easy, level smile as she looked off to the side, where she saw someone helping organise the schedule of the election miming with their hands to start talking. She tried her best not to turn her head too fast as she scanned the crowd, and then she started talking.
"Hello everyone."
There was a soft pause. Her voice sounded awful over the PA system, she decided, too nasally, and tinny and yet still somehow sounded like it carried a drawl with it. She hoped they didn't mistake her slightly more rustic accent for her having rustic values, because she was pretty sure she was better than that. Anyway. Not time to concentrate on that. People were looking at her now she had to keep talking.
"So, unlike everyone else here, I don't have some list of previous experience in leadership or politics, or even a long, pre-prepared speech, or anything like that. I'm just a regular student."
She let that hang there, for a moment, let them accept it. She thought she saw the tiniest bit of a nod from someone but maybe that was wishful thinking. She just wanted to make sure to give that the appropriate amount of weight.
"That's not the kind of person who's going to be elected President of Senior's, they're going to be someone who's mostly interested in their position being the launching board for whatever political career they hope to have after High School, rather than for the good of us - the people who go here. And, y'know, that's fine for them - But let's make sure it doesn't come at the expense of the well-being of the school."
She smiled, and decided to show she was absolutely not the Average Politician and raise a point that attacked herself before her opponents did, to show she was aware of her flaws.
"And - I know some of you might doubt my lack of partisanship, I've always been clear about where I stand - But I hope you can trust that that honesty bleeds over into when I say I don't want school money spent on either side of the aisle politically. "
Boom. Ok, she nailed that, she thought. Now, to cut them off quick. Short, sharp, no room for quibbles. Don't get bogged down in details, just give the perfect vibe and let people fill in the blanks. She'd read r/the_canon this morning desperately, looking down in the comment chains for descriptions of how he always made an impression. She guessed she was going to try and use some of that now.
Her expression shifted, knowingly twisting as she realised the cheesiness of the line she was about to pull out of nowhere to wrap things off. She really hoped Wyatt didn't make her a cap with this on because then she'd probably have to treasure a stupid moment for live.
"I guess I'm just asking yah to "
She tilted her head to the side, already mocking herself, catching eyes with Demetri for a second. He'd get the extra level of irony she knew it.
"Have faith in Faith" he rolled out, changing her tone without missing a beat, and then, without waiting for the crowd's reaction, calmly pretending as if she didn't hope they clapped her off. Either way it didn't matter once she disappeared from the view of the crowd, she was pumped. Her heart was pounding a million miles a second and she felt like she was hovering above the ground. She'd done it and she hadn't fucked it up.
She hadn't.
Fucked.
It.
Up.
"Yesssssssssss," she quietly cheered to herself when she was sure she was completely and absolutely alone, doing a little fist pump to herself, and wearing the biggest, shit eating grin on her face as she allowed herself a moment of personal celebration in which to revel in her lack of failure in something she'd always hoped she'd be good at. The smile didn't leave her face until later that night, when she lay in bed, wondering suddenly about exactly who was going to vote and if she even stood a chance of making it on.