Written By Josephina “Josie” Johnson

I have high hopes — for where my family lives, for the quality of public education and for this nation’s ability to pursue common goals, despite inevitable differences of opinion. It was these hopes that made me truly excited to vote as soon as I hit 18.

I expect the best from myself, and I hold my community to the same standard. I grew up in Coventry, RI, a town that stretches from the state’s center to its western border. It has plenty to recommend itself, but it falls flat in some areas, particularly education.

My mother home schooled me until third grade, providing me with an education that emphasized her priorities, like curiosity, literature and religion, which she felt that public schools neglected. I then bounced between a variety of school systems before finishing in the public system. With that background, I’m able to see systemic issues that most of my peers cannot. Although I graduated near the top of my class, I was forced to wade through performative, mandatory and uninstructive courses. That never happened when I was home schooled or in private school.

For example, we had a financial literacy curriculum in high school, but instead of learning anything, it seemed the program was designed to check boxes more than impart information or skills. Right before my senior year, it was added as a graduation requirement, so a handful of my classmates and I took it over the summer, online and self-paced. I pity anyone whose financial education is limited to that soul-sucking series of videos.

And yet, I lived in New England, ostensibly home to America’s greatest public schools. I had access to a world of opportunity. Programming through Generation Citizen, a nonprofit that encourages civics education, opened my eyes to the work people were already doing to improve the situation in public schools. Because of my religious convictions and through my AP Government and Politics class, I already felt a responsibility to examine every candidate and then vote, without consideration for party labels. I knew that voting was my chance to help those around me.

However, Generation Citizen helped me understand the weight of my vote, especially as I voted for the first time this year. Knowing that, in Rhode Island, it’s not unusual for local races to be decided by just a handful of votes, I was particularly careful down-ballot.

Political research wasn’t foreign to me, either. As part of the Youth Voice Fellowship program, I helped to run a workshop on providing legislative testimony. Our research on effective communication and the legislative process, coupled with my participation in Rhode Island’s Civic Liaison program, gave me insight into the inner workings of my state government.

So, at Generation Citizen’s urging, I testified before the state House Finance Committee and encouraged it to pass a bill that would provide public schools with the necessary funding to teach civics. In one of the capitol’s windowless underground chambers, I waited three hours to speak for three minutes. I was the youngest person present and the least educated, but I had crucial, current experience in the subject of their legislation. For three minutes, I had their undivided attention.

As a result of that experience, I see politics and government differently from a few years ago. I know the power I have through my representatives. I’ve seen the impression it makes when someone does more than complain over lunch, share a social media post of dubious origin or despair in the quiet of their own head. I’ve seen the impression it makes when I bother to act. I grew up thinking that all politicians were either corrupt or incompetent, but after I interacted with them in person I have become less cynical. I’ve met politicians who are both morally and logically reasonable, who are genuinely attempting to improve our community — and who I disagree with on a variety of issues.

Generation Citizen opened my eyes not only to possible solutions to issues I saw in my community, but to troubles from across the state that others were fighting. I served as an emcee during Rhode Island Civics Week, where students presented projects to address problems in their communities. I was shocked, for example, by middle school students from Woonsocket who were already affected by the drug use issue in their city, and were making the effort to solve it.

The spirit of openness that I acquired in my civics education has already served me well since graduating high school. I’m now a student at Wyoming Catholic College, and it’s about as different from Rhode Island as a place can be. My old high school invited speakers like Rhode Island’s secretary of state, Gregg Amore, who championed legislation to increase recruitment of teachers of color. Here in Wyoming, I hear from speakers like Rep. Sarah Penn, who was instrumental in Wyoming’s legislation banning gender transition surgeries for minors. 

I don’t believe they would agree on much, but – Amore, as a teacher and Penn as a nurse practitioner – they perceived a flaw in their community, one they were capable of mending, and they rose to the occasion. I didn’t used to believe politicians like this existed. I have a great deal of respect for both Secretary Amore and Representative Penn, and I don’t know who I align with more. Coming from Generation Citizen, where I sat in on meetings with the Rhode Island Civic Learning Coalition, I’m ready to hear new perspectives, disagree with people and see that they are still intelligent, moral and well-informed. I hope that our nation can be ready to do so too, particularly as we elect our next president and live civilly with the result, no matter what it may be.

This is one of the great fruits of civics education. It teaches us to negotiate differences, to find shared ideals and to move onward. It teaches us to live together. There are few lessons America needs more.

Josephina Johnson, 18, is in her first year in college.