Frederica: Miss? Look at my resumé. There's nothing on it, and you said I can't include stuff from middle school.
Me: Hmmmmm. . . Well, yes, it's a little empty . . .
Frederica: I know! And it's too late to do anything about it.
Me: No, it's not.
Frederica (slowly): You know? I don't need a resumé at all.
Me: How come?
Frederica: President Obama's going to be speaking at that college soon, right?
Me: Um, right.
Frederica: Okay then. Here's the plan. I'll go see him and be all like, "Mr. Obama, may I please have your autograph?" And then I'll hand him a piece of folded paper and he'll sign it. But the paper will really be a letter of recommendation I wrote! So the college will think the president wrote me a letter of recommendation!
Me: Um, that certainly sounds like a plan, Freddie.
Frederica: Oh, it's a great plan! So I don't even need a resumé!
Me: By the way, you've forgotten that I published some of your poems in the school's literary magazine when you were a freshman . . .
Frederica (interrupting): Can I put that down?
Sheryl (to me): Look at that big ole smile on her face!
Me: Uh huh. Pretty nice!
Frederica (smiling even wider): So maybe I don't need the president this time.