My fourth grade public school classroom was in a local Baptist church. The area of east Whittier where we lived was being developed and occupied so fast that the schools could not keep up with the influx of new students, thus the unusual setting. In an effort to teach us about the benefits and challenges of a representative democracy, our teacher arranged for us to have monthly elections during which we would choose our class officers. We had a president, vice president, secretary, and students assigned to every possible classroom task, flag monitor, recess leader, homework collector, trash collector, etc. Early in the year I set a goal to run for every office. Reporting my goal to my Dad we had a long talk about what it would take to influence the voters. Using his considerable literary talents and my knowledge of 4th graders in general and my friends in particular, we crafted campaign speeches, usually in rhyme, that resulted in me winning every election I entered that year. With my Dad's skill behind my words I gave those speeches with such confidence that no one could help but vote for me.

Tomorrow morning at 7:30 I will address my mission devotional and by assignment introduce myself and bear testimony before hundreds of my fellow missionaries. Wish my Daddy were here to help me.