I’m fortunate to have been in seventh grade precisely when I was. Every four years in October, my middle school’s seventh-grade social studies classes held an election unit. Students were selected to be presidential, senate, and gubernatorial candidates; there were campaign managers, Secret Service agents, lobbyists, fundraisers, and speech writers. It was good-natured, well-constructed, thoughtful, and impactful. Twelve years old was a good time for this, too: we were mature enough to engage with some of the policies but not cynical or set in our ways beyond whatever influence our parents had over us. I don’t recall any personal conflicts. Everyone focused on embodying their roles as best as possible, and I had a tremendous amount of fun.
I don’t remember who the seventh graders elected in 2008, but I know who America elected. It was the first election I felt conscious of, and I can still feel the palpable excitement, the Yes, We Can stickers in the hallways, the sense of progress and accomplishment that came with a relatively young African American man making it to the White House.
My biology teacher that year was a snarky man who was a bit tough on us—my older sister hated him, and my parents weren’t that pleased during conferences—but I got along with him fairly well because I was a know-it-all, especially during that year of my life. He was, in retrospect, definitely gay during a time when that would still be considered taboo in the affluent suburbs of Minneapolis. I can’t speak to his personal politics—Obama’s campaign opposed gay marriage in 2008—but this man felt strongly and optimistically about the result of the election. It so happened that Obama’s inauguration was during biology class, and he canceled the lesson so we could watch it.
I remember being awestruck by the vast crowd gathered on the Mall, Yo-Yo Ma playing on stage, and a general sense of wonderment, pomp, and import surrounding the proceedings.
Today—as this post is published—will mark the second inauguration of a gaudy man who is an affront to the office he holds. He lacks the care, professionalism, solemnity, strength, tact, or humanity one should maintain to be a respected president. Backed by the money of ass-kissing CEOs and surrounded by incompetent and ill-experienced hangers-on, he’ll once again ascend to a reality show version of the presidency that suits his impressions from television. For every thoughtful moment from the Obama and Biden inaugurations that celebrated the beauty, diversity, and progress of America, we’ll see a funhouse mirror version worthy of a man who has no resolution to problems beyond grandstanding and ill-begotten money.
I have no clue whether the last three elections resulted in units for seventh graders in my old middle school. I’d like to believe that the teachers there managed to run something valuable despite the troubling and divisive rhetoric, laying a foundation for a future generation to have some hope of pushing past whatever comes after the next four years. But it’s a shame that they’ll be subjected to this flashy and distasteful inauguration that relies on a foundation of hate and disgust rather than well-earned pride and hope for the future.