I had to take Monkey Princess home from the afterschool program, but she was sill busy – reading aloud a letter from her friend Miranda whose family had moved to Naples, Florida, in the summer.

“On one hand, I’m very upset that the glass ceiling has not been broken,” Princess went on sadly, after giving her friends Shandra, Kim and Anuparma a thoughtful look. ”On the other hand, I’m happy because now I could become the first female President of the United States of America!”

Princess smiled slyly:

“Did you get it? Actually, if you think about it, we all can! This possibility is still open!”

The girls looked at each other.

“But what about becoming gym teachers?” Kim asked. “We all agreed to become gym teachers, for it is such an awesome job!”

“Well, we can be gym teachers AND the American Presidents!” Anuparma embraced the idea swiftly. ”Presidents are elected only for four or eight years, so the rest of the time we could still do something really cool, like cartwheels or pike flips. And Kim and I could also become the First Asian-American Presidents, as a bonus!”

“I’d settle for being just the First Female President, because Barak Obama is already the first African-American President.” Shandra sighed regretfully. “But I’m not doing Botox, ewe, no, and I’m not wearing pants all the time while fulfilling my Commander in Chief duties! Maybe, only occasionally, during state dinners with the heads of the foreign countries.”

“We could help each other to plan it all out,” Princess suggested humbly. ”Let’s create a club, just like the Green Team where we discuss how people could save electricity and protect nature. We can call it ‘Future First Female American Presidents’ club. We can make our American Girl dolls to live in the imaginary White Houses! No boys or adults allowed!”

The girls giggled.

“Girl Power! We rule the world!” They exclaimed.

Princess took out a folder from her bag and wrote on the cover: “Future First Female US Presidents Club”

“And what about Rachel?” Anuparma remembered suddenly.

The girls looked at the far corner of the hall where Rachel was methodically ripping apart models of Native Americans longhouses made during today’s afterschool art session.

“What about her?” Princess asked.

“Well, we can’t exclude Rachel from the club because she is our friend. But she ruins everything she touches!” Anuparma complained. “What kind of President she would be? We could end up with a nuclear war against Northern Korea or having Lady Gaga singing in the Metropolitan Opera!”

“We’ll see,” Princess waved to Rachel invitingly.

“No way I’d become an American president!” Rachel stated firmly, after hearing a proposition to join the club. “I’d rather become a whirling rabbi, like Mevlevi, the whirling dervishes. As a President, I’m not sure I’d be able to follow Jewish laws and American laws at the same time, because there are so many contradictions between them! Besides, the Presidents live in a small old house in Washington, DC, a city with terrible weather. Their salary is something like four hundred thousand dollars a year, less than the one of a managing director of a big bank. Ok, you can save on the rent and meals, and after you’re impeached, you can travel giving lectures, but you couldn’t whirl during them! It’s a rotten deal, any way you look at it!”

“I told you,” Anuparma turned to Princess and made big eyes.

“Ok then,” Princess shrugged. ‘We’d do it without you, no prob.”

“Are you girls any good at math?” Rachel was clearly not happy being left out. “There’s only one vacancy for an American President, and the opening happens only once in four years. Do you think there are good changes for all of you to become one, like, what, one after another, in a row?”

“Then what do we do?” The girls asked, puzzled.

“I have a good solution for you!” Rachel smiled mysteriously. “For all of us, actually. Are you ready to listen?”

“What is it? Do tell us, now, please!” The girls jumped.

Rachel took of her shoes and performed a quick Bombershay.

“Instead of the Presidents of the United Stated of America, we all can become The Rockettes!” She announced victoriously.

“Wow!” Anuparma, stunned, sat on the windowsill.

“I thought it all through”, Rachel assured, looking at Shandra. “There are eighty of them! We’d have eighty hundred or even thousand better chance to become a Rockette then an American President! They say fat girls can’t become a Rockette. They say short girl can’t become a Rockette. They said fat short Jewish girl can’t become a Rockette, even if she can whirl like a dervish. But this is all hogwash, bunkum! Until recently, they didn’t allow black girls to become a Rockette, for example, and that changed! And they won’t let girls to auditions – why? Because their height is not enough! This is what, Nazi Germany? I‘m telling you, The Rockettes is the most discriminatory institution in America, and we’re going to change that!”

“But how?” the girls gasped.

“The American Way,” Rachel said. “The right way. The only right and American way. We’ll hire lawyers and sue the shit out of them! And after that, we all dance at the Radio City Hall!”

“Cool! Girl Power! We rule the world!” The fourth graders lined up and did an attempted to perform an eye-high kicks.

It was time to go home.

I showed to Princess my phone with the time flickering on its screen.

Princess sighed, took her folder from the floor and erased words “Future First Female US Presidents” from the header “Future First Female US Presidents Club”.

She hesitated for a moment, and replaced it with the words: “Cool Loving Wonderful Amazing Cartwheeling Girls, future Rockettes or still Gym Teachers, Who Knows.”