The outfitting of a 7th-grade gangster

Back during the Byzantine era, I was in the seventh grade at Pickens Junior High School. One of my classmates convinced me that I should enter the race for a seventh-grade class officer. Looking back, I do not remember what kind of grudge he held against me, but obviously in his mind I had wronged him some time in the past and this would be a great way to get even. I know of no other valid reason for getting one of your buddies involved in politics at such an early age.

I was not exactly sure what a class officer was supposed to do, but thought it might be fun as well as place a feather in my cap to enter the

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