I joined the South Burlington School Board during my Junior year, sitting alongside Isaiah Hines as a Student Representative Board Member. I began my work right in the middle of the school mascot debate – dozens of community members, teachers, and students attended meetings, and were actively involved in dialogue. People asked questions, prepared speeches, and contested each other’s statements. Although this made board meetings engaging and interesting, reflecting on this historical moment in South Burlington school history generates feelings of frustration, anxiety, and fear. Some of the hateful statements made during those board meetings I remember to this day, and never would have imagined hearing in real life. I would become overwhelmed with a sense of injustice, and a debilitating sense of hopelessness. Nothing I said, nothing Isaiah said, and nothing other community members said would change their mind – suddenly, the debate of the “Rebel” identifier became a war in the community, and online. It was my job to rationally perceive the issue at hand and prioritize the wellbeing of the students I was representing. This was something I never had to grapple with before, as it required me to distance myself from the emotional turmoil and sensitivity of the subject. I had to remain neutral and professional as I heard my neighbors say some horrifying, and sometimes even threatening statements. I had to listen to every comment and consider it, no matter how strongly I disagreed with it, because it was my job to do so. I would walk away from board members feeling baffled, shocked, frustrated, and desperate. I wanted stand on top of the table, grab the microphone out of the hands of the people saying these things, and yell my frustrations. I wanted to get on my hands and knees and plead them to understand what exactly they were saying, the harm it was causing, the dire importance of the situation at hand.
However, I could only sit there in silence. If I wanted to retaliate a statement, I needed to speak carefully and professionally. This was not a space to be loud. In this way, being a student representative board member has been a meaningful experience, and an significant opportunity. It exposed me to the game of politics. I believe that there are many ways to establish change, and one of the biggest places to do so is right here at a board meeting. If not a board meeting, then it’s a legislator’s office, or the house of representatives. Although change can move slowly in government – passing bills, for example, is not an easy or timely ask – it may very well be the place that makes the biggest difference. It takes extraordinary resilience and effort to campaign, to delegate, to organize, and to testify. All of this passion and drive to make a difference must be packaged into a specific form of professionalism, and must abide to the rules of the world of government. Being a student representative board member taught me to navigate this world. I, too, had to learn to package my passion and opinions into professionalism, guidelines, and political etiquette. There was a system in place to accomplish what I wanted to do, but I needed to learn to navigate it. The skills I learned and developed as a student representative board member have been valuable, and are relevant in many different aspects of my life. It gave me a perspective I couldn’t have acquired anywhere else. Most importantly, it gave me an opportunity to engage with my community in a way I’d never experienced before, and as we know, true learning and personal growth happens outside of the world you’re used to. I don’t think I’m going to start a career in politics anytime soon, but participating in government, even only at the level of a school district, changed the way I perceive advocacy, action, and changemaking.