My name is Ani Sefaj and I ran for Sophomore Class President. My journey began early this year with a simple goal. No, this goal was not to inspire ‘Hope’ or ‘Change’ or to become the first Albanian Class President at Stuyvesant High School. My goal was to have a movie made about my historic rise to the highest office in the sophomore grade. But sadly, this was not to be—mostly because I didn’t win, and partially because the documentary was a sham. But luckily, readers, you can still find out the real story, the dirty secrets behind the election, from yours truly.

In mid-September, I approached my soon-to-be-running mate, Keiji Drysdale. Although hesitant at first, Mr. Drysdale was quick to get on the ticket after I mentioned some of the perks of being Sophomore Class President or Vice President, namely the rights to ride the elevator and use the Student Union’s private jet. After a coin flip, it was decided that Keiji would be the Robin to my Batman. And so, the most powerful ticket ever created to win the class elections popularity contest was formed.

On an October afternoon, the candidates were instructed to line up outside the Student Union Office to be briefed on the requirements and rules of campaigning. I laughed at the would-be competition and feigned interest during the meeting.

Our first objective was to get 100 signatures, which I managed to do by third period the following day, after passing a signature sheet around each of my classes. Second was to find photos of Keiji and myself. Luckily, we always keep glamour shots of ourselves in our lockers. Lastly, we needed a list of 10 campaign managers. We thought long and hard about this over a power lunch, and came up with a list of campaign managers to appeal to every demographic at Stuy. The potheads, the athletes, the popular Asians, the math team members. Everyone was targeted—well, except the quiet Asian kids. Although they make up the majority of our school and might vote in record numbers, we realized that it would be unrealistic to expect them to do so.

Our next goal was to write up a campaign statement. Although we were intent on making our platform, “Ani – Keiji: Down with the bitches and hoes,” we were forced to reject this because of an arbitrary SU rule about vulgarity, and instead splice together a 150 word statement of empty promises.

And then the campaign began. It was a dangerous game. Making posters, locating that ideal poster spot, ripping down other candidates’ posters who’ve already taken that spot, the shady deals to campaign for other people online (and get them disqualified)…I still feel dirty after what I did. I’ve scrubbed and I’ve scrubbed, but I swear, they don’t make water hot enough. But the Ani – Keiji ticket was in the top two after the primaries and moved on to the general election. The only competition left was Mohammed and Kathy, or MoKatz as I affectionately call them.

And here our glorious run came to a quiet end. It was at this time that I learned I could not be both Sophomore President and apply to be an editor of The Spectator, because of a conflict of interests. I told this to Keiji and it was decided that we would continue running, win the election, and then I would do something incredibly stupid to get myself impeached so that Keiji could ascend to the presidency. I imagined the headlines of The Spectator. “Ani Sefaj Wins Sophomore Elections,” by Ani Sefaj, and a week later “Sophomore President Ani Sefaj Pees in Drinking Fountain, Gets Impeached,” by possibly soon-to-be-editor Ani Sefaj.

But time went by and our interest in the election fizzled. In late October we decided that being president and vice president wasn’t cool anymore. I also had second thoughts about peeing in a drinking fountain to get impeached. You see, I have a shy bladder, and with all those people watching in the hallways, it would have been impossible.

Keiji and I began to tell others to vote for MoKatz and not for us. And Election Day went by, not with a bang, but with a whimper. MoKatz won. And somehow the Ani – Keiji ticket still had 63 votes from 63 people who were just too attached to the idea of our presidency.

My quest to become class president ended in defeat. Yet, I learned a great deal from my experiences, and the time has come to impart my knowledge to the next generation of campaigners. Elections are a joke, but everyone already knows that. Although it is common knowledge that the elections are a popularity contest, it is not entirely so. While you are guaranteed to win if you have at least 100 friends, you have to make sure that these friends aren’t the lazy kinds who decide not to vote in the face of a long line. And lastly, do not place so much importance on poster making. It’s true that a funny poster might win a vote or two, but word of mouth and threats work so much better. I hope that this article has left you, dear reader, with a sense of pride in our school’s democratic election system.