I awoke at 4:45 AM sharp to the triumphant refrain of “Hail to the Chief.” Thursday, May 16, 2024. “Carpe diem,” I thought as I slipped out of bed. I made my way to the bathroom, thoughts rushing through my head about how the crowd–the whole high school–would react. This wasn't my first Student Council speech, nor would it be my last. Following a decisive victory in the previous election, I became my grade's Student Council President. A year later, it was time for yet another contest for continuity. However, this one was different, as my victory earlier in the year was so dumbfounding that I did not have an opponent. It was still eminent to consider that a lack of opposition did not diminish the challenges ahead. I washed up, cleaned my teeth, and fawned over my appearance, making sure not a hair was out of place. I crept down the hallway, taking care to not wake my family. I noticed the TV was on. Whether inadvertently left on by another inhabitant of the household or indicative of someone else being awake I cannot say, but the polarizing headline displayed was irrefutable:“President Joe Biden and Former President Donald Trump Agree to Two Debates in June and September.” Sipping on my tea, I contemplated future debates of my own. By then, I had committed to pursuing the presidency of the United States of America. This may seem like a naïve notion, but I had actually put extensive forethought into it. During childhood, many of my forebears reminisced about returning to “the good old days,” a sentiment deepened by the pandemic and subsequent years. I questioned why it was impossible to return to those fondly remembered times. Through later education and searching, I realized it was not. This discovery influenced my choices, including my actions on that day. After finishing my tea, I quickly returned to my room to dress. I donned a crisp navy suit paired with a bold magenta tie–an idiosyncratic choice to command attention. Before long, the household was awake, and we departed for school. In the car, I meticulously reviewed my speech. Upon arrival, I bid my family farewell and entered the school–the room where it happens. Walking through the halls, I received positive remarks about my attire. From a simple “I like your tie” to overt admiration, the positive remarks were apparent. The 8AM bell marked the start of Geometry class, which seemed to drag on amidst a mental cacophony of anticipation and nerves, making it difficult to concentrate on final exam preparations. Upon being freed from my mathematical prison, I made my way to the auditorium for the morning assembly, speech snug in my pocket, and butterflies resolutely in my stomach. As others gave their addresses, I pulled out my own combing every sentence, word, and syllable until finally, it was time.“For sophomore president, Mr. Mason Bibby.” “Showtime.” As I climbed the stage, the audience awaited in silence.“Alright, Mason,” I thought,"Either they REALLY wanna hear what you have to say, or you have something stuck on your face." I hoped it profusely it was not the latter. Notwithstanding this, I orated with conviction, and spoke from the heart, something that I noticed was not present in modern politics. It is simple to sway voters with mendacity or false bravado, but engendering hope is the mark of a true leader."I stand here as a testament," I declared firmly, my words resonating throughout the auditorium.“To the integrity and character that this community—this family—displays.”I observed a shift in the sea of faces. I spoke a spirit of unity into these students; no easy task on account of their general indifference. I urged the crowd to remember those who leave a lasting impact, including myself. “Remember the one who listens. Remember the one who leads. Remember Mason Bibby for Sophomore Student Council President.”Departing amidst thunderous applause, I felt a swell of pride. Adjusting my jacket one last time, I stepped aside for the next speaker. Throughout the day, I received myriad commendations for my speech, from students and faculty alike. Finally, around 3 PM, I returned home. I took a moment to unwind, removing my jacket and draping it over the desk chair. I stepped outside, listening to the melodic chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves as a gentle breeze swayed my tie. Admiring the expansive landscape surrounding my home, I reflected on my achievements. Essay contests. Meetings with influential figures. And my student council career. I considered future milestones: college, military service, law school, and a potential career in politics. Thoughts raced through my mind, prompting a smile—I smiled for what I was. What I am. And what I am yet to be. Back inside, I rolled up my sleeves and powered on my computer. Entering a new tab, I searched for “leadership opportunities for high schoolers,” eager to discover avenues through which I could inspire the most crucial value for anyone–hope. Because a president's job–my job–is never done.