Slumbook Politics

Remember when we had slumbooks? We were around 10 or 11. Fourth or fifth grade. At that age your slum book, together with your Merci Beaucoup ballpen collection were your prized posessions. Maybe you had a statio (staionary) collection you valued dearly, but the autograph book and the pens -- they were priceless.

I love the politics of slumbooks. Obviously WHO gets to sign the slumbook is crucial (and I will get to that) but also of utmost importance is the SEQUENCE of who gets to sign your super special autograph book. Of course you go first. And of course you don't answer the "Who is your crush?" question since you're afraid people will tease you to Robby Rosa.

Your selection of the first person you ask to sign your slumbook is crucial. It's like picking allies in times of war. You make the wrong choice and the other side will invade you, or worse, not make you sign her slum book. A fate worse than death.

And so you make your choice and she puts "swimming" as a Hobby and "too many mention" under Likes. You go down the list of friends you have (in a precise sequence) and you can see the look of some people when they sign your book -- "Hmmmm... X signed before me. She's closer to Jona than me?" or "Oh my God Y is here! Let me read her page first...."

Sometimes you go "out of your league" and ask a really popular kid to sign your book. Most will, but they'll put bullshit answers like hearts and arrows under "Define love" or silly drawings under "Have you ever been in love?" The cool kids never really mean the things they write.

I like how the decision on who NOT to put in your slumbook is just as important as who goes in. There are just some completely unpopular stay-the-hell-away-from-them kids that get ostracized by the entire class. Maybe they had slumbooks too, but only the first page was filled-in.

And remember when a friend would so mess up her page she'd want to tear the page out and sign again? God I hated that. There were only 24 pages in my Merit autograph book, and I had allocated a page to each of my friends. Letting her tear out a page would mean un-friending someone: The girl who messed up your prestine slumbook, or friend no. 24 who you really didn't care about. Yet another difficult decision to make.

Ah, the politics of slumbooks.