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running?”), but you have to be so careful in the way you ask questions, so I just need to remember that and address it.
    The article was starting to take shape in my mind—the intro at least. Uninterested sixth graders, voting solely on what the candidates tell them. Eighth graders clearly preferring one candidate over the other, on reputation alone. And seventh graders undecided, with some knowing a candidate personally and some not. I couldn’t wait for my interviews to pull this whole thing together in my mind and then on paper.

    At lunch Friday I secured two seats in a quiet area, leaving my messenger bag and jean jacketon them to save them while I got my lunch. I went to get a sandwich and look for John Scott. He was about ten minutes late, which actually was a little annoying but worked out to my advantage since I’d finished eating and could concentrate on the interview while he ate. I did make a little note of it though; lateness can reveal a person’s character in many ways.
    When John arrived, he got his food and joined me at the table, with a brief apology about his tardiness.
    â€œSamantha Martone!” he began with a friendly grin. “It’s an honor to be interviewed by a journalist of your caliber.”
    â€œI’m sorry, what?”
    â€œI can’t believe you’re interviewing me!” John said. “After reading your articles in every issue—the Pay to Play article was awesome, the school lunch article intense, and I loved the coverage last year on the new curriculum—I always feel I have my finger on the pulse. You’re always on the front page and always hitting the most important issues. I could take my campaign planstraight from your articles in the Cherry Valley Voice ! And the writing! So good.” He shook his head admiringly.
    â€œWow. Thanks! I’m flattered,” I said, a tiny blush reddening my cheeks. “I can’t believe you read all that.”
    â€œWell . . .” John stopped to find a fresh napkin on the table and spied my notebook. “Wait. You use a notebook?”
    Surprised, I looked down at my trusty brown notebook. “Uhhh . . . yeah?” What was wrong with it? It looked okay to me.
    John shook his head sadly. “Samantha—one of the first things I will do if elected school president is make certain everyone on the Cherry Valley Voice staff receives state-of-the-art iPads. How can you do your best work if you’re not using the best equipment?”
    â€œReally? Wow. That would be awesome!” I said excitedly, thinking how cool it would be to tote around an iPad for my articles. It would make things so much easier: online research, editing drafts, sharing with Michael. Not thatI’d ever had many problems with my notebook before, but still.
    I glanced at my list of questions about John’s background and qualifications; then I decided to just go with the flow of the conversation. “So, what else would you do if you were elected school president?” I asked, uncapping my pen and poising it above the page.
    John brightened, and he pushed his tray away and folded his hands earnestly on the table in front of him. “Well, first of all, extra-long lunch breaks . . . How can the teachers expect us to work if we’re not properly rested? Next, less homework—it’s a proven fact that stress is not healthy for anyone , and homework adds a lot of stress to a student’s life. Third, more extracurriculars. Like, why don’t we have film class? That would be so cool. Fourth . . .”
    John outlined about ten great ideas while I nodded along and scribbled quickly to get it all down on paper before our hour was up. I could see what John envisioned for our school, and it was exciting. School life would be much better with John Scott at the helm! Plus, his deliverywas amazing—I was objective enough to see that, though I actually