Primary (School) Election Coverage

Note: I rarely write about my job and students because there are instances of teachers who do so exploitatively, and I am sensitive to that.  Nevertheless, elementary school students provide such amazing contexts and perspectives on certain issues because of three of their most common and admirable characteristics:  they are honest, they know what they like and don't like, and they're not afraid to tell you.  Because of this, I really enjoyed experiencing election season with them; their political attitudes are refreshingly antithetical to media pundits.  I hope you enjoy this snapshot of that attitude...   All student names are changed. 

            

 A student's coloring:

           Most of my students were 2 or 3 years old when Obama was first elected.  The significance of electing our first African-American president doesn’t dawn on them in a historical sense, but they are quick to recognize that Obama looks like them—that he is not only black, but he is powerful and black.  He’s a star.  He evokes more ambition than any black musician, athlete, or historical hero has ever presented to them, especially in this early stage of life, when they remain little and dreamy and every opportunity still feels like a growth spurt away. 

            Their teachers were excited too.  We also have our hopes and dreams.  How different is leading a classroom than leading a nation?  To channel this excitement our 2^nd grade team ran a “teacher for president” election   Ms. B ran under the platform that she baked cookies and wanted all the kids to go to college.  Ms. T said she saved puppies and believed in peace.  Ms. W shamelessly advertised that she voted for Obama in 2008.  I ran under the platform that we should have Saturday school, extra homework, less recess, and eat chicken foot soup for lunch every day.  I was not interested in moderate politics, in centrist facades, and soft issues; I wanted the children to understand there were real differences in the candidates and that it was their obligation to vote based on issues instead of who they liked more.

            More than 100 scholars showed up to the polls in their classrooms.  I received 7 votes.  I failed to appeal to my base.  Ms. W won by a slim margin.  There was no recount. 

            The Monday before Election Day I held a more relevant election between Romney and Obama.  I thought back to the 2008 election when  I was working in a South Boston classroom and we had run a similar mock election.  There were two white kids in the class that came from traditional Irish Southie families just outside the Old Colony and Broadway Projects.   They were the only two children to vote for McCain.  Their reasons were clear: “Obama is a terrorist from Kenya.”  “Obama will blow up our country.” 

            The black and Hispanic kids started to pressure me.  “You’re voting for McCain because you’re white.”  I had vowed never to reveal my leanings, but went back on my word to disband their developing theory that people vote for the candidates that most closely reflect their skin color.  I wondered if I would have to play the same role again four years later.

            In my class in New Orleans I told the kids that before they vote they should know more about both candidates and to keep an open mind.  “You might learn something about Romney that you might really like.”  Chance, a bright but squirmy challenge to my daily patience, looked me in the eye, and said “Hmmm…maybe I’ll vote for Romney.”  Then he flopped onto his back on the carpet and pencil-rolled into the girl next to him.  I made him go back to his seat.

            Together we read a profile list from Time For Kids comparing the candidates. 

            “Obama’s wife's name is Michelle.  Romney’s wife is Anne.”  The room was quiet to start but it got louder as went down the list.

            “Obama’s favorite sport is basketball.”  Mild cheers.   “Romney’s is baseball.”  Soft boos.

            “Obama loves pizza and chili.”  Wild claps, Nate, another bright but mobile child, gets out of his seat and pumps his fist.

            “Romney loves meatloaf.”  A loud, collective groan.  A child blurts out, “oooh, disgusting!”  I don’t mention that we all ate meatloaf two days ago for lunch and it was delicious.

            The room grew louder, a piston of cheers and heckling with each item on the list until we got to the bottom.

            “Obama’s hero is Martin Luther King Jr.”  Nate leaps from his seat and into the air and starts to scream.  Kids bang on their desks and holler in approval.  Chance does a half-twist in his chair and swings at the air in excitement.

              I motioned for them to calm-down.

            “Romney’s hero is….Ronald Reagan.”  The room erupted.  Kids banged their desks in disapproval.  They booed and jeered. “No, Reagan, No!” a girl shouted, mimicking a book called No, David, No about a wild and mischievous boy who breaks all the rules.  It took us two minutes to settle down.  I made them put their heads down on their desks for a few seconds before they colored in their electoral maps. 

            Obama won 23-1 in our class.  Romney’s only vote came from one of the sweeter girls in the class, who can’t yet read, but liked the way Romney looked on our pictorial ballot.

          

           The next day our school was closed because it was a main polling place of the French Quarter.  It was a special school and indirectly has had its hand in politics and history before, having educated Truman Capote, Richard Simmons, and more importantly, Lee Harvey Oswald. 

            I voted at the Holy Rosary School on the Bayou.   I entered through a small stairwell room adorned with extra desks and a small fenced-in statue of the Virgin Mary.  After I voted I noticed a picture of the Pope on the wall. 

            I went to another school to observe other 2^nd grade teachers and take notes.  In one classroom the teacher asked the kids to write about the election.  It was clear they had written about the subject before and some looked tired of it. One girl, though, sat at her desk and thought for several minutes before writing.  Her pencil never left the paper once she started.  “I think Rockobana will win.  The white man will lose.”  Her handwriting was perfect.