The Student Body

1

The bill proposes to measure

body mass index, BMI...

That's what

we're doing here today,

address the core

problems we face.

And this is

a great move forward,

so I support the bill.

It's not like

I don't respect authority,

or believe in our government,

or trust the adults

who are in charge of us.

We do hearing the objection

title that was agreed to.

It's just that...

Well, the past year

has changed the way

I understand the world.

Just one year ago,

I was a junior in high school,

worrying about

doing my homework,

looking forward to getting

my driver's license,

and doing my best to fit in

and make friends.

And now, here I am

in the middle

of a national controversy,

in the personal debate

with our public officials,

all over the simplest thing

in the world,

a number.

But this isn't just any number.

This number is special.

To get it, you take one number,

divide it by another

which has been squared,

and then multiply that

by seven hundred and three.

The resulting number is, well,

magic.

This one number tells a story,

a story about your past

and even predicts your future.

Obviously, a number

that holds this much power

would be valuable.

And this one is.

So much so that some people

try to keep their number secret

for fear of what it might tell,

while others don't believe

in the number at all.

Then there are those,

even in our own government,

who believe in the

number's power so much

that they fight

to gain access to yours,

using the number

to determine whether or not

you are acceptable.

Yes, acceptable.

Not my words.

Theirs.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Maybe I should back up,

you know, to the beginning.

Or at least my beginning

and to what brought me

to this point,

fighting over a simple number.

- Dum, dum, dum...

- Looking back,

I kind of feel bad for what

I put my parents through.

That's good, Bailey.

You having fun?

No?

Apparently, I wasn't a pleaser.

Hello.

When asked a question,

I would just grunt.

I hated costumes

and school plays,

despised being paraded around

and refused to perform

for anyone.

That's me right there

at my first public protest

at age four.

Hugs were out of the question.

No smiling for pictures.

Yeah, here's an Easter

smile for you.

Some friends even gave

my parents a book

called the strong-

willed child.

I guess, it was supposed

to teach them

how to deal with me

or something.

This is where I live,

a small, historic town in Ohio.

After school, we can walk

down main street,

pass the old garage,

pass the church on the corner,

and hang out

at the ice cream parlor,

which is right across the street

from the gun shop.

Yup, it doesn't get

any more American

than this.

And this is my high school,

where I was taught that we have

the greatest government

in the world.

This is also where I learned to,

well, behave.

Remember that

strong-willed child

who was always making a fuss?

She eventually became

the soft-spoken, polite kid

that barely anyone notices.

I pretty much keep to myself,

stay out of trouble,

and never, ever

question authority.

That is until last year

when a bunch of us students

decided to stage a protest.

There was friction

between the new school board

and our principal,

so the board decided

to promote him

right out of his job.

But us students

weren't having it.

Our top story today.

High school students

dressed in black

storm the school board meeting

in which their beloved

principal was voted out

and removed from his position.

This was the first time

that I've ever held

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