Vote!

Tuesday night was a fantastic experience. My professor and I went to West Liberty and helped our students from our English education program vote for the first time. We were able to help five people, who had never voted before, exercise their rights as American citizens. Seeing how exited they all were to be able to vote, to share their voice as citizens, was inspiring.
Most of us are handed the right to vote. I was born in America. I grew up expecting to vote. All I had to do when I turned eighteen was show up, and I got to vote. I didn’t need to prove that I knew how the government worked, or that I knew who the Majority Leader of the House of Representatives was, or that I knew who took over when the Vice-President could no longer lead the country. Our country believes that because I was born here, I naturally have the right to vote even if I don’t know a single part of our government.
For immigrants, the road to voting is much longer and more difficult. To gain citizenship, immigrants must take a test that covers everything from naming a State Senator, to knowing the role of the Supreme Court, to explaining the difference between the executive and judicial branches of our government. I would wager that 90% of our voters would not be able to answer these questions. That is why I have so much respect for the students in our program.
They come every Thursday night after working all day and going home to make dinner for their families. The students come when they are tired, when they are sick, just to work on their English skills and gain their citizenship. The work that they put into becoming citizens is astounding. That is why Tuesday night was so special: they had earned the right to walk in and put their years of waiting and work behind them by casting their first vote as Americans.
I was so proud of them. We all walked in as a group, and I’m glad I was there to support them. I saw how nervous they were; many of them had brought every piece of paper they had that proved their citizenship so that they could not be turned away. I saw the pride in one student’s face as he showed me his voter registration card he received in the mail after passing his citizenship test. His eyes were intense, but his smile was wide as he pointed to the physical proof that he would be able to vote for the first time. Years of practice with English, months of memorizing names and parts of the government, and hours of anticipation all came together in just a few moments as they stepped behind the American Flag curtain that covered their voting booths.
As each student walked out, we cheered as a group. It wasn’t about what party was being voted for; it was about the reality that citizenship was in their hands. There may be people who will always look at them as outsiders or foreigners; all of the practice and hard work in the world cannot change everyone’s mind. But my students walked out of that building proud, realizing that they ARE citizens, and seeing that their hard work paid off.