The Aspiring Goldfish

“Hello there. Are you ready?”

“Almost. I’m nervous!” The principal smiled at me crookedly, as if to say I should woman up, and I decided to run backstage to check on everything. The jazz band was setting up in front—there was nothing I could do to hurry them along. In the wings, the National Honor Society members in charge of collecting new inductees from their classes had their little pink slips on which I’d written room number and name, and were heading out. I started checking their destinations to make sure—

“Ms. W! Ms. W!”

“Hey, hon! Why are you not on stage already? You’re lighting the candle for character during the ceremony.”

“I know, but we have to find me a skirt to put on top. I look like a hoe.”

I surveyed her outfit. She was wearing a one-piece silky black jumpsuit with the cleavage cut down to her belly button, and it ended in the shortest possible shorts. I wrinkled my nose.

“You need a cardigan, too.” Someone rushed up to us with a pair of bright blue six-inch heels.

“Do these help?” They turned to me.

“I think not.” Sigh. I moved back into the audience, shaking the hands of parents who had come to see their children inducted into the National Honor Society. It was my first induction as advisor, and I wanted to be sure I didn’t get anything wrong. I moved toward the door of the auditorium to check on the two girls that I’d asked to set up the refreshments.

“Uh, see, what happened is—“ One of the girls broke off her attempt at explanation, aghast at the expression on my face.

I surveyed the scene in astonishment. The incoming audience were being ushered around a large puddle of water right by the door.

“But I only bought lemonade and pop. Where’s the water from?”

Sheepishly, the girl held up the plastic bag she carried. It had a large puncture, and in a half-inch of water at the bottom swam a sluggish goldfish.

“The other two are on the floor! What do we do, Ms. W?” I was amazed.

“Why did you bring your goldfish to Induction? No, wait, first get cups.” As the girls tried to clean up the water, I checked my watch.

“No time, no time!” We placed the refreshment table directly over the puddle. I advised them not to leave the goldfish on it—they’d end up as refreshment for an unhappy guest.

The jazz band had started. I grinned at the incoming inductees, lined up by the door (six of them were my students, past or present) and marched up to sit on the stage as the jazz band played. The president of the NHS began.

“Character is the force within the individual that distinguishes each person from others.  It creates for each of us our individuality, our goodness…”

The eleven students stood to take the NHS pledge with one hand raised. The current board fumbled to light their candles representing leadership, scholarship, character, and service. We said the Pledge of Allegiance and listened to the jazz band rustle behind us. Finally, it was the moment I wanted. The students were called up one by one, presented with their certificate, and I got to shake their hands. Some of them looked dazed, others, confident in snappy vests and bowties. Finally they were told to recess, and after a few moments of puzzlement in which we made shooing motions, they exited the auditorium to applause.

We took pictures. Lots and lots of them, in different combinations. Some with the NHS logo in the back, some before the mural by the auditorium, some with parents and some without. One inductee approached me with great news about his future, and a parent asked whether they could get a bumper sticker that says, “My student is in the NHS.” I told him we’d look into it.

As the students and parents wound their way out, and the current members cleaned up, I knew I had one last duty. I tracked my student down to read her a lecture on how bringing any kind of animal, especially one as vulnerable as a goldfish, to school, constitutes animal abuse. “Miss, she just wanted to be part of the NHS.”

Today we inducted eleven of the top students at our school. And three goldfish.