Brendan the Small


Na He Jeon

Brendan Coffey (9) and Principal Matthew Ragone compete in the Pep Rally relay competition.

Brendan Coffey, Reporter

The little man with the big plan. That was my iconic phrase while running for school presi­dent in elementary school. While those few words were a big success at the school, I had no idea they would stick throughout my next few years, since I figured I was going to grow taller (I didn’t).

Through my elementary years the height issue was not as big a deal; people usu­ally just assumed I was a kindergartener who had wandered into a sixth grade classroom.

In middle school I landed a few parts in plays – supposedly due to my height (Dis­claimer: just because the villain was ironically named “Mr.Big,” doesn’t mean my superb acting skills didn’t contribute to my landing the role).

These have been the past few years of my short life, yet never until Langley have I felt so large. I wasn’t expecting what was to come on the first day of school: it rocked me like a giant – more like a giant senior who just picks me up and throws me over his shoulder.

Luckily, a doctor’s appointment be­fore the start of the school year filled me with all the information I’d need to get by freshman year. Are you a freshman? How old are you? How much do you weigh? WHAT’S YOUR HEIGHT? I’ve never really got this question: you all have eyes – clearly, you can see that I’m short.

 It’s like everyone thinks I’m some kind of hallucination, and they need to know that I’m exactly fifty five inches (4”7 for those of you who are slower at math) to make sure they’re not crazy.

And finally, after hand sizes are compared and I’m benched like a dumb­bell, they’ll ask for my name. That cycle continued with ev­ery male I met in the school throughout the first week. I did have its advantages though: the girls seemed to simply think I was cute (good enough for me).

In addition, I would constantly have people whispering about me while I walked down the halls for the first few days, usually catching phrases like, “That kid is so short.” Really? I hadn’t noticed.

You folks at Lang­ley must work on your whispering, if my tiny ears can catch all the hottest gossip, so can the rest of Langley’s.

To recap my high school social career thus far, I’ve been used as a bill­board for homecom­ing, been proclaimed Brad Dotson’s son, and almost been “The Chosen One.”

How do I feel about this? For the most part, fine. I really appreci­ate the love I’ve been receiving at Langley. Although I’ve hugged many of you already, as you requested when we first met, I’d do it again just to say thanks. Especially to the seniors, who appear to be my biggest fans (not only height wise). I don’t really even need to walk anywhere after all the piggy back rides I receive from the class of 2013.

My only complaint would be to please ask before you pick me up, just common courtesy. If I had the upper body, I’d ask you before picking you up.

It’s just a strange sensation to one moment be looking from a fifty five inch perspective, and sud­denly be looking at the world from seven feet, only to look down and realize you’re in the hands of a senior.

 I’m sure you’ve all had that happen to you before. My doctors tell me I’m probably not going to grow for a few more years, as a late bloomer thanks to my Mom and Dad, who are now average but were short growing up (Small + Small = Even smaller), but perhaps that’s not a bad thing. I could get used to a few more years of this.