Part of the Problem Solvers Series

There is nothing more annoying than a problem identifier. You’re sitting there spinning 4 plates and the chubby cheeked kid in the front row points out you dropped the fifth one awhile back.

This week I attended election judge training for the primary coming up in my state. I am very much what I would call a geek when it comes to the political process. Shout out to my girl, Lisa Desjardins! I was with you in spirit in the capitol that day. I am glad you are safe. On January 6^th I sat huddled over my laptop listening raptly to the events, trying to absorb what was happening, and still breathe intermittently. That day I vowed to do more to keep what I always believed our country could be. I believe in the idea of democracy. I believe it is something that is ever worked toward. I get sad when things are hard for other people. I don’t like when people don’t have a safe place to live—whatever that looks like for them. I understand that people are injured and need aid. I’m also self-aware enough to know I alone do not know how to help these people so that I can stop feeling sad. And I guess because it’s the system I was born into or whatever, I trust in democracy. I trust letting all of us decide.

I am also a lapsed cynic. I know our democracy has problems because it’s not yet a true one. I doubt I’ll still be around to see it. Of course, I still have pages and pages written about all the things that we could just do to fix it (with zero experience in the government, mind you). I have a short list of congressmembers I’d like to see in the White House, and a long list of Senators who are the answer to: Person you’d punch in the face, no consequences? Hope you are well, Senator Kennedy! All this to say: while I think we are far from a true democracy, we can always move closer. A truer democracy. I really think we can do this, everybody! *enthusiastic thumbs up*

After the insurrection and the pandemic, I kind of lost my footing a bit, mentally. Technically I lost my footing during the pandemic. It was after that I realized I had fallen. I’m getting better, but the educational podcast on government systems and processes as they are designed to function and the commonly exploited loopholes that I sometimes dream about has to wait. But I could volunteer to judge the election. So, when the representative from my county’s board of elections called me and asked if I’d like to become an election judge in the my state, I said “you know it, motherf*cker!” …Just kidding. I did not say that. I very politely said “I would love to become an election judge, thank you for calling. What do I needed to do next?” And as it turns out, it was election judge training.

As I mentioned, I am a geek about the political process, so I looked forward to the three-hour long explanation of the machines and materials we would be handling on the big day. I am also what I would call a common humanity fan. I was excited to meet the other people giving time and energy to this important process. We all had that in common. We are people that sign up to be election judges.

The training took place in a rec center gymnasium. After some paperwork and a brief summary of the logistics of the day, it was time to train. We split into groups for the two training modules and would swap places after the first was complete. It was difficult to hear due to the acoustics and giant air handler behind us, but my fellow attendees spoke up, asking the instructor to repeat things or clarify. (The facility could have been better suited. Bathroom was clean though. Always appreciated) Our instructor Phillip, an employee of the county’s board of elections, walked us through real world scenarios that we might face during our fifteen-hour shift at the polls. He familiarized us with the pollbook machines and explained how the check in process synchronized with all the other polling places to make double voting impossible. Everyone paid attention. The group of people I trained with genuinely wanted to do a good job. I want to do a good job.

I was grateful for my youth and good health in that gymnasium. Apparently, people who sign up to judge elections are generally older. I’m not sure why there were so few young people. Probably because of the time commitment on the day. I would estimate out of the 40 attendees only a handful were younger than me (I’m 40). Most were older by some years. During the second training module, I sat next to the only teenager. She heard about the opportunity in her school’s auditorium and signed up. Here we heard from Wanda, a seasoned chief judge with over 20 years of election experience. Wanda walked us through the tamper resistant bags and told us what to do if someone needed assistance filling in the small ballot bubbles. “You ask questions, and you ink it in. You don’t give opinions.” After three hours of instruction, I feel ready to show up on election day and assist the people in my community cast their votes for their preferred primary candidate, but just in case, I was sent home with two spiral bound training manuals. The first four chapters are mandatory reading, but if we wanted to be thoroughly prepared, we could read all 13 and review the first and second appendices to further familiarize ourselves with the process. I still have a few weeks to prep.  

If all goes to plan on the day of the primary election in my state, I will arrive at my assigned polling place at 5:45am in a politically neutral outfit, armed with my manual, a plentiful ration of protein bars, and a helpful attitude. After so much denigration of our political process and the election officials over the recent years, it feels good to be part of that system to prove to myself and those around me, that people judging the elections aren’t shills working for a “side.” They are just ordinary people like myself, with nothing to do on Tuesday.