Friday, November 29, 2002

Don't confuse kids on voting ...

Remember kindergarten?

No, this isn't going to be another column with my life story in it. You don't need to go through that again. And neither do I.

But, do you?

I remember crayons and tying my shoes and all sorts of fun stuff.

I don't remember voting. I'm fairly certain I didn't vote.

My 5-year old daughter Emily, however, voted for the first time two weeks ago. The same day you and I went to the polls, Emily cast a ballot voting in three races — the governor, comptroller and attorney general races — and on three propositions.

Let me begin by saying how über-cool it is that Emily got to vote.

The group that created, passed out and tallied the ballots — Kids Voting Western New York — said it's looking to increase voter participation in adults by inspiring people to start young.

It's a great idea and I applaud the dozen or so groups that fund the organization.

However, (you thought that was a happy column?) if you're going to do something, do it right.

The proposals that I mentioned should not have been voted upon by 5-year-olds like my daughter. They were designed for her, though, according to the ballot.

After her six questions, in fact, it said, "Grades K-2 Stop Here."

The first proposal was innocuous enough in my opinion — although I have heard some people complain about it: "Should the words 'under God' be eliminated from the Pledge of Allegiance?"

I can understand how to some children this will have meaning and they will give a resounding "no." Now, Emily didn't have good reasoning for this, but she too voted no.

The second proposal asked, "Should the New York State Education Department revise its high school graduation criteria?"

I asked Emily if she understood the question. She said she did.

"It means, 'Do you think the high school graduated?' " she told me.

Fair enough. I'm not sure I know what the question really means either, and I've covered five different school boards over the past 2 1/2 years.

The final question was my favorite: "Does the current method of funding offer all students the opportunity to meet New York State standards?"

Emily said yes.

I asked why.

"'Cause the high school kids are big," she said.

Huh?

I asked her if she knew what funding was. She said no.

I asked her what New York State standards were.

"They're things that stand up on an island in New York," she answered, matter-of-factly.

If only that were true, Emily.

These kids will learn politics' stupidities soon enough. Questions about state education funding need not be posed to kindergartners. Not to mention, doesn't simply asking the question — especially at such a young age — poison their minds? I don't send Emily to school to be propagandized into believing that state leaders don't give enough for her education.

Also, I understand that the voting process was rather chaotic — almost Florida-esque with long lines and what have you — potentially turning off potential life-long voters before their prime.

Maybe next year, kids should vote in their classes?

On a side note, I had heard ahead of time that she would be voting, but she and I really didn't talk about who she would vote for. I didn't want her to vote for someone just because daddy did.

As it turns out, though, Emily voted for the same three people that her father did — Golisano for governor, Havesi for comptroller and Spitzer for attorney general.

I asked her why.

She said because she had heard her mother and I talking about them.

That made me realize A) that I'm not as quiet as I think I am, B) maybe she listens to me better than I give her credit for and C) the propaganda method the educators use actually works.

Emily also told me that many parents of the kids in her class didn't let their children vote because they didn't have time or didn't want to wait in line.

That's a shame.

Finally, I was going to further show Emily the true importance of voting by asking her which member of the family should make all the decision for the next month or something.

But I scrapped that plan in fear that she'd pick the dog — or worse, her mother.

Tuesday, November 26, 2002

No room at the Inn

Last week I had the pleasure of running out to a County Legislature meeting.

The Union-Sun & Journal is (believe it or not) preparing for the 2003 political calendar and I had to bring some biographical questionnaires to three current members of the legislature — Erck, Cole and Meal — so I could get to know them a little better.

I thought the meeting started at 7 o'clock, so I headed over a few minutes before that to say 'Hi' and give them my questionnaires. Unfortunately it actually began a few minutes before I got there and there was a line to get into the legislature chambers.

When I say it was standing room only, I mean it in the most literal form of the word. There were about 20 people in the lobby looking in towards the meeting and about another dozen standing up inside the legislative chambers.

No one outside could really see what was happening inside, but thanks to the miracle of electronics, we could hear. No one inside could see how many people filled the lobby outside, but thanks to the miracle of politics, they wouldn't listen even if we spoke.

Fortunately, the county had provided a few seats for a handful of people to sit and listen to the meeting.

Now stay with me here:

There are six benches inside the legislature's room, each fitting about eight people — for a total of about 48 spectators. These people fit into about a 585 square foot area off the legislature floor.

Each person gets 12.2 square feet — or thereabouts.

And that doesn't include the people standing in the aisles.

Add them in and its less than 10 square feet per person — still leaving about 20 people outside in the lobby.

On the legislature floor, meanwhile, there sit 19 legislators at large desks. The area they occupy is about 1,638 feet. Accompanying them are a couple of lawyers, department heads and whathaveyou. Lets say there's 30 people in this space.

That means each person gets 54.6 square feet.

It seems pretty simple to me that maybe there should be a little more space for the constituency and less space for the legislature and their cronies.

They could add another row of booths and extend the gallery a little to make room for people.

The could put in some extra chairs on meeting nights to accompany the overflow.

Or they could just cut the legislature to 10 and give the people half of the legislature floor.

We are, after all, supposed to have all of it.

On the topic of the legislature, it seems to me that its time for the annual scare tactic. You know the one, tell people that unless every service ever invented gets cut to the bare bone, taxes are going to skyrocket by 20 percent.

Oh, it's only 16 percent this year? Thank God.

Here's my solution: You know that "doomsday scenario" they keep talking about? The one where every service ever invented gets cut to the bare bone? Do it.

Does that include cutting the number of legislators?

Please, can it?