A source in the Salem, Massachusetts, school system had reached out to me with a remarkable tip: The ghosts of John F. Kennedy and Dwight D. “Ike” Eisenhower would be appearing at the local high school shortly before Election Day to mark the nation’s 250th.

So, there I was, poised in the back of an 11th-grade civics class, notepad in hand. The bell sounded to signal the start of the period and also seemed to summon the spirits of our 34th and 35th presidents, as JFK and Ike majestically materialized in front of the class. Our jaws dropped.

JFK coughed once or twice and said, “It’s a, uh, privilege to be here on this sacred anniversary.”

Ike shared a genial, “Boy, howdy.”

The teacher, a Mr. Rasmussen, nervously asked the phantoms if they’d take some questions. Both gave presidential thumbs ups and flashed presidential grins. “I’ll kick things off,” the teacher said after a few seconds of dumbstruck silence from the rest of the room.

“Today, just 15 percent of young adults trust Washington to do the right thing most of the time. What do you make of that?”

Ike spoke up. “You know, chins up! We stayed confident and united even in the darkest days of World War II.”

That seemed to break the ghoulish ice. Rasmussen called on an eager-looking kid in the front row, who asked, “When it comes to political activism, how should high school students make our voices heard?”

“Whoa, there, son,” said JFK. “Politics? I’d expect high schoolers would have other priorities. Date girls. Have fun. That’s the way to go. Trust me, politics will keep.”

“But lattes cost six bucks. And they’re trying to restrict Instagram and TikTok,” the kid said. “How can we combat these injustices?”

JFK looked to Rasmussen, who explained in sotto voce, “He’s talking about coffee and today’s version of television.”

Kennedy nodded and intoned, “Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.”

“That’s so sus,” a girl in an oversized sweatshirt chimed in. “You stole that from a speech by some old guy I heard once. And what if our country is selling out our generation through stupid, endless wars?”

Mr. Rasmussen noted the U.S. has been fighting Iran since February.

Ike and JFK looked at one another. “If, uh, Congress declared war, I’m sure they had a good reason,” said JFK.

“Congress didn’t declare war,” said Sweatshirt Girl.

“Well, I’m afraid you’re confused, young lady,” Ike said gently. “If Congress didn’t declare war, the country can’t be at war.”

Mr. Rasmussen shrugged. “That’s not exactly true nowadays. The president bombed Iran without congressional authorization. He said it’d all be over in a couple weeks. It’s been 8 months.”

Ike and JFK exchanged looks.

“So you’re saying Iran attacked us?” asked JFK.

“Nope,” said the girl.

“Well, how long did Congress debate?” asked Ike.

“They didn’t,” said Mr. Rasmussen. “The president just started bombing.”

“Some people say it’s because it was so easy for him to kidnap the president of Venezuela,” said a boy in the back. “Or maybe because he couldn’t invade Greenland.”

“It’s like they’re not even speaking English,” Ike muttered to JFK.

“I think he attacked Iran because he wanted show off his new plane,” said one girl.

“What plane?” asked Ike.

“Qatar gave him a $400 million plane. It’s now Air Force One,” explained Mr. Rasmussen.

“What the Sam Hill?” exclaimed Ike. “We still make planes, don’t we? Seems dangerous to have foreigners build Air Force One. No telling what they did to it.”

“Well, the president loves it. It’s glitzy and has a lot of bathrooms. In fact, he plans on keeping it when his term ends,” explained Mr. Rasmussen.

Ike and JFK both scratched their ghostly heads.

“Maybe he started the war to distract people from the new ballroom he’s building to replace the East Wing of the White House,” said a girl who took a break from doodling. “He loves construction projects.”

“Especially the window treatments and the chandeliers,” said a different girl.

“And talking about men’s butts,” another student added.

“Are we talking about the first lady now?” asked Ike.

“No, the president,” the student explained. “He’s got a real passion for window treatments and interior design and now, apparently, the male physique.”

JFK looked befuddled. “This is the commander in chief, you say? With the nation at war?”

“Damnedest thing I ever heard,” muttered Ike.

Another student interjected, “So, what do you think of live streaming military executions?”

“Doing what now?” asked Ike.

“The secretary of defense wanted to broadcast a firing squad,” said Mr. Rasmussen.

The ghost of JFK started to sputter but couldn’t form a response before the next student spoke up.

“What do you think of the White House taking part ownership in American businesses?” asked another student.

“You elected a communist?!” Ike spat.

“No, no, relax. The president says he’s anti-communist,” the student explained.

“The vice president says socialism is foreign workers taking American jobs and boys playing in girls’ sports,” offered another kid.

“Ike, what the hell is going on here?” Kennedy pleaded with his predecessor.

Eisenhower raised a hand. “Hold on one darn minute,” he said. “This isn’t making a lick of sense. Did the Reds conquer us somehow?”

“No,” said Mr. Rasmussen. “We actually won the Cold War. Thanks to President Ronald Reagan.”

“The actor?!” said JFK.

A slouching kid said, “Well, our president promised to spend a trillion dollars mailing $5,000 checks to everyone if his party wins next week.”

“So, he is a communist,” murmured Ike.

“A trillion dollars?!” marveled JFK. “Good lord, I would have loved a mile-high surplus like that when I was in office.”

“Umm, actually . . .,” Rasmussen began, “we’re borrowing $2 trillion this year. We’re $40 trillion in debt.”

Ike and JFK sat there, slack-jawed. “Forty tr-tr-tr . . .” started JFK.

“You must be funnin’ us,” said Ike.

Sweatshirt Girl added, “Meanwhile, the president has made billions off crypto, his flunkies are selling pardons, and rich guys can get the president’s official statements early if they pay $100,000 a month.”

“Did she just say something about selling pardons . . .?!” JFK half-asked Ike.

Rasmussen explained, “Well, the president and his family have learned how to monetize the White House. In fact, President Kennedy, the Department of Justice noted your mastery of TV to explain why the president can sell early access to his Truth Social postings.”

“Planes, schemes, and ballrooms,” muttered Ike. “My lord. Is everyone in government rich now?”

“Well, they don’t act it,” said Rasmussen. “The ambassador to Greece, who used to be married to the current governor of California but then was engaged to the president’s son, just got fired for openly soliciting bribes. Texas’s attorney general, who got impeached for bribery, is running for Senate now and was endorsed by the ex-wife he cheated on.”

“I can’t even begin to follow that,” allowed JFK. “Look here, we’ve always had corruption in this country. Hell, my dad was a scoundrel. But I’m sure you’ve all read Plunkitt of Tammany Hall on honest graft. There needs to be some restraint, some discretion.”

Rasmussen said, “Well, nine in 10 Americans say they’re very concerned about government corruption.”

“And we haven’t even asked you about the politicians who call each other fascists and pedophiles,” said one kid.

“Or about the ones who get their opponent’s shady mom to attack them,” added another.

“I’m having second thoughts about ‘chins up,’” Ike said. “This isn’t what my men died for on the beaches of Normandy. What the heck are you all playing at? Where are the adults?”

“That’s why we we’re so committed to teaching civics,” explained Rasmussen. “We’re trying to prepare these kids—”

“Damn it, man,” exploded Ike. “You can’t teach republican virtue when adults model the opposite.”

JFK added, “Youth need to learn to appreciate their nation, do their duty, and be responsible citizens. But Ike is right. If your adults act like this, civics class is mostly a crash course in hypocrisy.”

The loudspeaker chimed, students began gathering their things, and the former presidents began to fade back into the netherworld.

Eisenhower blew out a deep breath, leaned over to Kennedy, and said, “Saved by the bell, eh, kid?”

Frederick Hess is an executive editor of Education Next and the author of the blog “Old School with Rick Hess.”