Civic Participation and Community Action Sourcebook

Section Two

“Campaigning Should Always Be Like This”

by Wendy Quiñones

As an advocate of political and civic participation, I had long harbored a secret dream: a class full of students confidently and knowledgeably talking with an elected official, demanding answers to informed and well-prepared questions of vital importance to their lives. In reality, I had become resigned to my students’ cynicism, ignorance, and fundamental disbelief that anything they said could be heard or have an effect. So when one day my students successfully acted out my fantasy, they taught me some things about making it happen again.

Some years ago, I discovered that a good friend of mine was a friend of the candidate challenging the congressman in our district. Jokingly, I asked her what it would take to get him to visit my class. Three days later the campaign called: the candidate would like to visit. Now I was stuck! I knew my students hadn’t any idea what a congressperson was, what one did or what the difference was between a candidate and an incumbent. I knew if the candidate talked, they wouldn’t understand much of what he said. And I knew that when he asked for questions, they would sit silently and be embarrassed by their silence. Still, I was determined that this opportunity not be wasted. So, my colleagues and I decided we would just have to help the students learn to take advantage of this opportunity.

We had not understood how much time and effort this would take: in the two weeks before the visit, I estimate that we spent 10 to 12 class hours preparing. Even in our 20-hour a week program, that amount of time required justification which we provided by linking every step with specific stated program goals: training in critical thinking, improved writing and public speaking skills, education about government, increased community and political participation. So we took the time.

When the day arrived, I retired to a corner as planned. The student facilitator introduced the candidate and guided him to the seat they had designated for him. The students asked well-informed questions; the candidate was respectful, listened carefully, and answered fully. Several times his staff pointed out that he was running late and should excuse himself, but he refused to leave. “I wish there was some television here,” he said. “This is the best event of my whole campaign. This is what I think campaigning should always be like.” A few days later, the election results came out so close that they required a recount before the result was final. Our visitor, whose views on issues were much closer to my students’ than were the incumbent’s, won by fewer than 400 votes. And 17 of those votes had been in the room that day.

The lesson I learned was that impoverished, silenced and marginalized students – and mine were further disempowered by being all women – cannot be expected to improvise a relationship with a representative of power. They need instruction, a cheering section and, most of all, they need practice, practice, and more practice. Students must have a chance to visualize the event, anticipate what will make them uncomfortable, and decide how they might best cope with that discomfort. Decisions that can be made in advance should be made so students will have as much control and as few decisions as possible to make in the actual situation. Who will ask the questions? In what order? Is it okay to have notes to read from? Should they introduce themselves? Here’s how we decided to do it the first time and repeatedly afterwards.

In the case of the congressional candidate, we had already covered some aspects of the structure of government, so we set about trying to connect that apparent abstraction to their everyday lives. As it happened, this was the time when welfare reform legislation was pending on both state and national levels, so students could easily see that the candidate might be dealing with things that would affect their lives directly. With that as a starting point, we were able to help students brainstorm a list of issues important to them that a congressperson might work on. This step was crucial.

With the list in place, students began the task of narrowing their questions to a manageable number. This required close examination of what they wanted to ask, and of whether certain questions or issues were contained in or implied by others. It also meant close examination of the appropriateness of some questions. One student, for example, wanted to ask about the difficulties her grandfather was having over his Social Security payment. This led to a discussion of what candidates, congresspeople, or their staffs might be expected to know or do. In the end, the student was reassured that she had a legitimate question and an appropriate place to take it: the staff of the current representative.

With a working list of questions, students then sorted themselves by interest, forming one small group to draft each question and submit it to the class for discussion. One of the most exciting conversations was about whether the questions should be phrased so as to demonstrate the opinion of the group, and thus risk having the candidate answer simply to please us, or to leave him in the dark about his audience’s preferences. Students decided they wanted to hear the candidate’s own thoughts rather than allow him the option of reflecting theirs. So questions were written and rewritten until everyone was satisfied.

The next step, which proved surprisingly crucial, was role playing. Each student took a turn at delivering the question from their group in the way the group had decided: standing up, introducing herself, and reading the question from notes. It’s important for teachers to emphasize that fear and nervousness are perfectly normal, and to discuss the fact that other people can’t necessarily see what we’re feeling. It’s also important to make sure that students give each other positive feedback – constructive suggestions (“What if you tried...”), instead of critical comments, (“You shouldn’t have...”). If everyone knows this in advance, the (for some) terrifying act of standing up in front of a group becomes much safer. I was surprised: after practicing, several students who had previously refused to ask questions decided that they could, in fact, do it.

The role-playing also pointed out potential problems with questions. One student, for example, asked about a pending bill on an issue of importance to the group. She identified the bill by name and number. What if the candidate wasn’t familiar with the bill? she was asked. She was sure he would be. But just in case he isn’t, how would you explain it to him? her questioner pressed. The student, although skeptical, did prepare a brief description of the bill and, sure enough, the candidate had never heard of it by name and number.

Students also discussed and decided in advance many of the details of the event. They wanted a student facilitator; one volunteered and practiced her role. Students decided they didn’t want to leave the order of their questions to chance; they decided who would speak and when, and that the facilitator would have a master list to call on the questioners in order. We enacted the entire event and decided the best place for the candidate to sit. Students discussed how they should dress. They left almost nothing to chance, and their planning paid off in a smooth, exciting, empowering, and educational event.

But it’s not over yet! Debriefing is essential. Some will be convinced they have botched their roles; they need positive feedback from the others. Some will want to comment on the policy-maker, pro or con. If the event has been successful, they need to share their exhilaration; if a failure, they need to commiserate. In either case, they need to evaluate what happened and why. And teachers need to be sure of what learning has actually occurred. One of my students had asked a question about tax policy which resulted in quite a complex answer, and afterwards she bristled that the candidate hadn’t answered her. Once the answer was explained, however, she realized he had in fact responded to her quite fully. Rather than feeling ignored and denigrated, she was able to feel respected and empowered after all.

This visit was a watershed event in my class. I like to think that my students’ relationship to power was permanently changed; certainly I saw that when we had later visits from policy-makers, they were more than willing to do the preparation necessary and to speak up with less fear and hesitation. My students had learned that they could be important and effective participants in public events.

When she was a journalist covering local government, Wendy Quiñones tried to make the political system accessible to ordinary people, and in ten years of teaching adult education she has tried to do the same thing.

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