That’s What an Election is All About.
As a substitute for a first grade class this week, one of my assignments was to read, Duck for President.
Perhaps it’s not been all that noticeable, but this year is a Presidential election.
So my assignment was to talk a little about the upcoming election – without asserting any opinions – and then read the book, and talk about the things Duck did when he was running for President.
Duck for President is a very simplistic view of what happens. There’s some campaigning, but no mention of what that means, and Duck rides in some parades and kisses some babies. Otherwise, Duck doesn’t do much – although he still gets elected. At the end, he quits because it’s too much work, and goes back to the farm from whence he came.
So I pulled out the book and sat on my rocker in front of 18 first graders, who were seated on the carpet in front of me.
“Raise your hand,” I said, “if you have ever heard the name, ‘Hillary Clinton.'”
Every hand in the room went up.
“She’s running for President!” one girl blurted.
“She is indeed,” I said. “Okay, now raise your hand,” I said. “if you have ever heard the name, ‘Donald Trump.'”
Again, every hand went up. But this time, the room exploded. There was an uproar of little voices.
“He’s going to be President,” a boy said.
“Nuh-uh,” said another one. “He’s a jerk!”
“He’s not a jerk!”
“Uh-huh he is, because I saw him. He said some bad stuff and he’s really a jerk!”
“He doesn’t like people with black skin,” whispered a girl.
“Who has black skin?” said another one.
“You do!” the first girl said. “And me too!” Both girls had dark hair, but their skin wasn’t very dark.
“Donald Trump doesn’t like people with black skin and he doesn’t like people who speak Spanish,” said another girl.
At least eight of the kids in the room spoke Spanish.
There was a collective gasp.
This all happened in the course of twelve seconds. As a teacher, I had to say nothing about either candidate, remain impartial, and let the kids know the really good news.
“Who knows how old you have to be to vote?” I yelled above the din.
The class hushed. One lone boy raised his hand practically to the ceiling. “18!” he almost screamed.
“That’s right,” I said. “And the Presidential election happens every four years, so you will be able to vote in just three more elections!”
The class was very excited. “We can?” one girl squealed, while a boy yelled, “We can vote when we are 18!”
They took a moment to stop arguing, and to recognize their personal power.
Because really, that’s what an election is all about.
“And this,” I said, waving the book, “is a story about a duck who wants to be President.” And I started reading.
But as I read, the words of a classroom full of six-year-olds echoed in my ears.
They sounded just like all the adults in the country.