I should remember her name.  After all she’s done for me, it’s the least I could do.  Alas …

I speak of my high achool Economics/Governement teacher.  Let me paint you a picture of what she was like.  She had a Hillaryy-esque dyed blond bob going on.  We were an A.P. class and we always took open book, group tests (very challenging).  She had married-late- the other Econ. Gov. teacher but had kept her own name.  When the Nordstroms Christmas calendar came out she brout it to class and showed us the items she had circled.  For real.  Obama is so up her alley.

I didn’t pass my A.P. Gov. test.  I don’t blame her – SOLELY – for this.  I could’ve cared less about that class.  I also can’t tell you a diggity darn thing about our government (what is the electoral college?) or economics (free market versus socialism?  Anyone?). 


On our 18th birthdays, she would give us a voter registration form, make us fill it out in class and then “take care of it” for us.  I thought it was stupid at the time.  I would’ve rather chewed glass than do it – not a lot of respect for her coming from me.  But I did it.

The 2000 election rolls around.  Jac and I register to vote with the College Republicans at BH.  Election day dawns, snowy and crappy.  Classes might have been canceled.  It took us forever to make it to the polls and when we did, the windwos were fogged, it was loud and crowded.  We stepped up to receive ballots and  … our names weren’t on the list.  Panic ensued.  Turns out, the College Republicans had lost a box of registrations and we weren’t the first to be in this predicament.  A handsome, take charge ROTC advisor was on hand to handle these problems and he wielded his cell phone with much authority.  I don’t know who he called or what happened, but, to my great shock and surprise, I was handed a ballot because I “was a registered voter in the state of California.”

At the time I was slightly confused and very nervous to be voting for the first time (start to hum Madonna song here).  But I thought about it afterwards and realized it was thanks to that silly teacher.

Now, each time I cast my ballot, I think of her.  Especially because she would sputter in disgust at my conservative, pro-life, rebulican leanings.  It feels good. 

Thank you, teacher with no name.  I vote you most influential.