Nerd: unstylish, unattractive, or socially inept person, especially one slavishly devoted to intellectual or academic pursuits.

—Merriam-Webster Dictionary

The offer came out of the blue. Sam Reiner was sitting alone at a table in the lunchroom of the Nachmanides School, eating his tuna sandwich, when a group of his classmates came and sat across from him. And this was not just any group of classmates. Mark Weinberg was captain of the basketball team, the Nachmanides Fighting Rishonim (everyone called them the Fighting Rishies). Paula Skolnick was the leader of the debate team. Yehudit Wolfe was editor of the Nach News, the school newspaper. And Menachem Landau had no official position. He was just cool.

The four sat down across from Sam and said nothing for what felt to Sam like a very long time.

“What?”

“Menachem spoke first.

“Sam, we have a proposition for you.”

“O.K.” Sam said. He had no clue what they could possibly want.

“As you know, the student council elections are coming up,” Paula said, “and we think you should run for president.”

“Right,” Sam said, laughing under his breath. He reached into his paper lunch bag and pulled out his chocolate pudding and a plastic spoon.

“We’re not kidding,” Yehudit said.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Mark added for emphasis.

Sam pulled the top off his pudding container and started spooning it into his mouth.

“O.K., let’s assume for a moment that you’re not putting me on,” Sam said, with a mouth full of pudding. “Why me?”

“Because you’re a smart, creative person who is hard working and goal oriented, and because there’s a lot in this school that needs to be fixed,” Paula said. She was not the leader of the debate team for nothing.

“But I’m a nerd,” Sam said.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Yehudit said.

“I’m not being hard on myself. I’m at peace with who I am, a nerd.”

“How can you say that?” Mark asked. “You’ve done so many important things for the school.”

“What does that have to do with being a nerd? I’m a very effective, driven nerd.”

“How about the tzedakah drive you ran for Project Ezrah?” Mark asked. “That wasn’t nerdy.”

“We sold Star Wars book covers and Lord of the Rings travel mugs. Highly nerdy.”

“What about the sit-in you staged in the school kitchen to protest the cafeteria cuisine?” Paula asked. “That was totally cool.”

“We played “Risk” and “Monopoly” on the kitchen floor and blocked access to the ovens until they agreed to take strained spinach off the menu. Exceedingly nerdy.”

“What about the a cappella singing group you started?” Menachem suggested.

“The Polka Princes? Major nerd alert.”

“What about being captain of the chess team during its championship season?” Yehudit asked.

“Well gee, Yehudit, that would put me in the International Nerd Hall of Fame.”

“O.K.,” Menachem said, “let’s say for argument’s sake that you’re a nerd. So what?”

“Menachem, the only people that vote for nerds are other nerds. We’re just not that popular.”

“That’s just silly,” Menachem said. “I love nerds. Some of my best friends are nerds.”

Everyone laughed at that one.

“Sam, I think you’re missing the point,” Yehudit said. “Everyone has something to contribute to the school, and each person’s contribution is unique. I’m not much into labels, so I really don’t get this whole ‘nerd’ thing you’re talking about, but to put it simply, we think you’re the best person to lead the student council. You have a certain flair that the student body could use to move forward.”

“I just don’t think the school is ready for a student council president who is also president of the Rutherford B. Hayes Fan Club.”

“Who is Rutherford B. Hayes?”

“My point exactly. He was the 19th President of the United States, and a darn good one, I might add.”

“You’re really missing the boat here, Sam,” Paula said. “In this week’s parsha, Bamidbar, a census is taken of all the Israelites in the desert. The parsha states that they were counted lemishpechotam lebeit avotam bemispar shemot kol zachar legulgulotam; according to their families, according to their father’s household, by number of the names, every male according to their head count. The Ramban explains that this means that each male in Israel went before Moshe and Aharon and personally gave them his name. They were counted as individuals, each with his own merits. This procedure emphasized the uniqueness of each individual and emphasized his strengths. They weren’t judged just for whom they were, but also what they could accomplish.”

“Besides,” Menachem said, “You know the different tribal leaders listed in the parsha that assisted with the census? They all had their issues. I have it from a reliable source that Shlumiel ben Tsurishdai from the tribe of Shimon wore a pocket protector on his robe. No kidding. And Netanel be Zuar from Yisachar was a well-known crossword puzzle fanatic. And Elishama ben Amihud from Menashe? He played the tuba in the desert marching band.

“The tuba? In the Sinai desert?”

“Well, it was an ancient equivalent of the tuba. Or so I was told. Listen, I’m not making this up.”

“Uh huh.”

“The point is, we’re all different,” Yehudit said. “But we all have our individual strengths. And all our differences shouldn’t cause us to feel excluded. We are one nation.”

“So will you accept the nomination?”

“I’ll consider it.”

“And Sam, did you hear about Pagiel be Achran from the tribe of Asher?” Menachem asked.

“No, I didn’t.”

“He lived with his mother. Small tent, too.”

“You don’t say.”