By Tinky Weisblat
I became involved in the “Voices and Votes” project by accident. I learned that small towns were being offered the opportunity to apply to participate in the Smithsonian’s Museum on Main Street exhibit. I knew that my own hometown of Hawley, with a population of 300 souls and few public buildings, would probably not be eligible. I shared the information about this exciting collaboration between Mass Humanities and the Smithsonian with neighbors, however.
One was Julia White, who teaches history and civics at Mohawk Trail Regional School in Buckland, our local junior-high and high school. Julia thought the project would give the students a unique learning opportunity and the school a chance to work with the wider community. I have a Ph.D. in American Studies so she asked me to serve as project director.
When I met the teachers and staff members Julia had recruited to work with us, I knew the project would be a joy. It was. The group cared about American history, about the community, and above all, about the students.
Luckily, my colleagues were (I admit it!) younger than I and better at things like putting the exhibit together physically and arranging furniture for events. They also contributed wonderful ideas and commentary.
Our time hosting the “Voices and Votes” exhibit in the school library went by in a whirlwind. Looking back, I find much to celebrate.
First, since we were in the school, we were able to involve a number of young people in helping with and attending the events and the exhibit. These all took place in the school library, a natural gathering place for students. Nearby elementary-school students were brought in by teachers and parents. One of our student interns designed a scavenger hunt that challenged kids to find different items in the exhibit, making the material more accessible to youngsters. (The prizes were temporary tattoos. I couldn’t resist putting a flag tattoo on my face. It lasted for days!)
We also brought a number of adults into the school who had seldom, if ever, set foot in the building, some as docents for the exhibit and a lot more as visitors to the exhibit and events.
Every property owner in our eight-town district supports the school financially through taxes. For many of them, education is just a line item—a large one—in the town’s budget. The majority of our residents are older and have no children in the school system.
Visitors to the exhibit and our events, however, got to see the school as a vibrant place that contributed meaningfully to the community. Our activities included a public art event in which people expressed their own ideas about democracy with markers and paint and a forum in which people with different occupations talked about the ways in which small-town life had changed over the years. These invited visitors to reflect on what democracy and American life meant in our rural landscape.
The group cared about American history, about the community, and above all, about the students.
I adored every single minute. As a journalist and historian, I often work alone, writing essays I wonder whether anyone will read. At “Voices and Votes,” my historical knowledge and that of the teachers was shared publicly.
The experience was interdisciplinary. We collected local election artifacts to display. We played election trivia games. We elicited moving stories from immigrants to this country. (I think we all shed a few tears.)
We made foods served over the decades at elections. My own Election Cake, modeled on the spicy concoctions served in the days of the Colonies and the early Republic, looked lovely…
And we made music together. At one event I surveyed American social and political history in song, contextualizing the numbers for my audience and giving them lyrics so they could croon along with me. I performed songs I would never otherwise try, like “Tippecanoe and Tyler, Too” from the presidential election of 1840. The audience and I lustily sang three verses. There were originally 12(!). Like 19th-century novels, 19th-century songs tended to be long to fill the long pre-screen evenings in American households.
And we all got a chance to wear every red, white, and blue piece of clothing in our closets.
We thus reinforced the idea that history is something to be tasted, seen, heard, discussed, and lived.