Rural Matters

Education and politics and the Harris Campaign

I was a teacher for 16 years, and trust me, if I was offered a day or three out of the classroom to hang out with other adults, eat and drink when I wanted, and use the restroom as often as I liked, I’d take the opportunity.

The opportunity presented itself a few times over the years. I was asked to write curriculum or state test questions or review curriculum and questions others had written. It was a pretty sweet gig…for a teacher.

We were usually sequestered to a conference room at a resort. You know the drill: Tan-Tar-A or The Lodge of the Four Seasons. Both resorts are on Lake of the Ozarks.

The drive from Northwest Missouri to the lake is pretty boring until you get close and then the hills and curves hit and it feels almost like Northwest Arkansas. Not exactly like the Pig Trail, but it does make for a fun drive — especially in the fall.

Lake of the Ozarks. Lodge of the Four Seasons, Lake Ozark, Missouri.

I was always given a nice room for these events. I could walk calmly into the conference room at 8 am like a normal person ready for the day instead of 7 am clamoring for the copier and figuring out a lecture while grading papers and making new a seating chart because two lovebirds just broke up and you don’t want all hell to break loose 6th hour.

I digress.

I was often the only rural teacher in these curriculum spaces and I know it may seem like something that isn’t important, but let me tell you why that assumption is wrong: we need diverse teachers creating assessments for all kids to adequately assess their learning. To make sure we are getting it right.

Some of the questions I reviewed over the years were inappropriate for my rural students.

It’s unfair to ask a kid in St. Louis to complete a word problem with a question about grain legs. It is also unfair to ask a kid from Burlington Junction about a bodega. Both questions are confusing to kids who have limited experiences outside of their own communities.

I once reviewed a question about a bus schedule and it even confused me. We don’t have public transportation except the OATS bus that carries the elderly and infirm to Walmart and Hy-Vee once a week.

When I read the question about a bus schedule, I immediately thought it was referring to a school bus. I didn’t understand why a schedule was discussed because our buses leave the bus barn early every morning and drive the same route to pick up the same kids and deliver them to school. They reverse the same route with the same kids every afternoon.

And then it hit me — oh, city buses. I’ve had a couple of run-ins with those and the schedules terrify me. So do trains and subways. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not the country-bumpkin scared of diverse folks. I am scared of missing a stop or ending up in another state. I am scared of buying a ticket from a kiosk or buying the wrong ticket. I am scared of the turnstiles. I am scared of looking like a fool.

Speaking of turnstiles, I once used the word in class and a student asked for a definition. I told them it’s the thing you have to go through when you enter Menards.

*Cue every Midwesterner to sing “Save big money at Menards.”

This same thinking applies to politics. Rural folks are often not in the room, or even worse, represented by people who aren’t rural themselves. I’ve been on calls when the “rural coalition” was headed by someone from LA…and I don’t mean Louisiana.

I’ve been rural my entire life, but I didn’t notice the lack of rural folks in politics until Trump was elected. Until I took a hard look around and realized most of my neighbors were voting for Republicans. Until I figured out that most of my neighbors were voting Republicans because no Democrats were running and few were speaking out on why that was.

Recently, I’ve started shoving my way into rooms that discuss my community but don’t involve anyone from my community. Politicos talk about rural communities, but often don’t bother to invite rural folks. They dissect the “rural problem” without asking rural people what the problem actually is.

The matter reminded me of the time I took an entire semester of Black History in college without one Black person in the class. Even the instructor was White. Something felt off.

When you see heat maps showing voting patterns, you’d think Democrats should write off my entire community, but I know there are no Democrats running in races from State Rep to Sheriff to County Commissioner to Assessor.

When I see folks say that we are all racists out here because why else would we vote against our self-interest, I know that the wealthy and well-connected spent hundreds of thousands of dollars in small races to get the results they need. I know that wealthy folks can afford to intimidate people in my community to keep them from running races. I know people who have had their lives upended for running against a well-connected candidate.

It often works. Uncontested races are as rural as cattle guards.

Knocking doors in rural Nodaway County, Missouri.

Geographical diversity matters. Just like any other group, rural people know how to talk to other rural people.

You have to know how to talk about abortion to rural folks who have a certain religious doctrine pounded into their head. Hint: talk about medical privacy and that your State Rep should have no say in your doctor’s office.

You have to know how to talk to rural folks about school vouchers. Hint: talk about Friday night lights and school closures. It’s about sending your tax dollars to schools your kids can’t access.

You have to know how to talk to rural folks about guns. Hint: nobody wants to take your guns. We have our own. We just want universal background checks and red flag laws and safe storage.

I hate that we’ve left rural people out of Democratic politics for a while now, but there’s good news to report: The Harris campaign is re-engaging with rural America and that can only mean good things for the party in the next few years.

The campaign hired a rural engagement director. The best part? He’s rural and he has organized in our spaces for years. He understands that though we may not win in a cycle, though Harris may not get electoral votes in places like Missouri, the numbers rural people bring in could change everything from the Senate to the House to State Houses across the country.

Harris tapped Matt Hildreth of the progressive Rural Organizing group as her rural engagement director. Democrats have been hemorrhaging support in rural America for years, but making even a small dent in Trump’s steep rural margins could determine the outcome in battleground states that may be decided by razor-thin margins.

The fact that the campaign has hired a rural person to organize in our spaces is a big deal. It means they are paying attention. It means they think every voter is worth the time and consideration.

It means they know what a whole lot of folks have been screaming from the hills to the prairies: re-engage with rural people. Give us a plan and hope. Replace the anger with optimism. Give us someone to vote for.

Come back. We are ready.

~Jess