The Unimperial Presidency

The sleek comforts of Air Force One. Military bands blaring Hail to the Chief. Commands that set all the nation's warships, bombers and armies into instantaneous motion. Feats of diplomacy that bring peace to all the world. Are those the visions that are part of that classic American dream of growing up to be President? Apparently not. Michele Rosenfeld, a sixth-grade teacher in East Hartford, Conn., asked her 26 students for essays on "The Day I Became President." For nearly half of the class, it was less a dream than a nightmare: they saw themselves being assassinated.

"One day someone tried to shoot me, but my guys got him and sent him to the gas chamber," one boy wrote. Another, Carmine Esposito, described a chilling scene: "The next day I wanted to see and ride in my bulletproof car, which cost $100,000. When I saw the car I fainted. The car was a black funeral hearse. I saw a coffin. It said, 'Reserved for President Esposito.' "

Some of the children had less tragic concerns scared. "I would be scared," wrote one child, "because of the work I'd have to do. I wouldn't want to be President. Would you?" One girl might not have minded, so long as she would not have to be all things to all people. She wrote: "I made my speeches about how I would try to run things as best I could, but I couldn't promise anything." Not a bad platform, at that.

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