From Door to Door: Final Insights from the Campaign Trail

When I first decided to run for school board back in early September, it followed a lot of internal debate. I’ve always found politics interesting, especially from a philosophical angle, but it was mostly something I watched from the sidelines or debated privately. Now, as this campaign wraps up, whatever the result, I can honestly say it has been an uplifting, and dare I say, even life-changing experience.

I turned 50 this year, which feels like a milestone. At 20, I wouldn’t have been nearly mature or focused enough to run for office. At 30, my career demanded all my energy, and at 40, it was my family. Today, my family and career remain top priorities, but with a great team at work and my children gaining their own independence—a beautiful thing to witness—I feel ready to dedicate more of my time to public service.

This campaign has connected me with some truly remarkable and kind people, as well as a few quirky characters I might never have encountered otherwise. While I may have rubbed a few people the wrong way, I’m grateful for these connections, and I’m pretty sure I haven’t made any lifelong enemies.

With the election on Tuesday, this will be my last blog post of the campaign—and perhaps my last one on this topic. By the time some of you read this, the results will be in, but as I write, I don’t know my odds. When I announced my candidacy, no one else had declared. Now, there are six of us running, including two incumbents, a former long-time board member, and two strong newcomers. This race has been more competitive than I anticipated, and I’m honored to be in such impressive company.

Without much name recognition beyond my law office, I relied on online content, a few ads, campaign signs, and some good old-fashioned door-knocking. I managed to visit around 1,000 doors—a fraction of the 16,000 households in the district. Regardless of the outcome, that experience alone has been worth it.

Going door-to-door takes a surprising amount of courage. Hats off to full-time canvassers, door-to-door salespeople, and even the evangelists out there. It’s clear why many sales managers value this experience—it builds resilience, ambition, and the ability to handle rejection. It reminder me a little of my first job at a Roy Rogers fast-food restaurant when I was 15. Back then, I learned what it felt like to be invisible to some people—an experience that’s humbling. It’s a good reminder that our titles and accomplishments don’t define us. At our core, who we are “without all the fixings” is what truly matters.

Many doors went unanswered, whether because people weren’t home or chose not to answer. Those who did open often eyed me skeptically, perhaps assuming I was selling something. Once I clarified that I was running for school board, most relaxed—though many still seemed politely dismissive, eager to get back to their day. However, a decent minority engaged me in various conversations.

The people who wanted to talk were a diverse group. Some were well-informed about school board issues and had challenging questions, pushing me to learn more about the topics they raised. Others wanted to discuss broader political issues unrelated to the school board, despite my efforts to keep things focused. Some people shared grievances about taxes, trash bags, or city policies, and a few had opinions that were a little concerning. One man calmly, and in detail, explained his plan to reduce crime through public canings and suspending habeas corpus.

Some of my interactions were quite memorable. One woman, when I said I was running for school board, respond with, “I don’t have kids in school.” When I asked, “But you pay taxes, right?” she scoffed, “Yeah, I pay taxes for other people’s kids!” and slammed the door. Another gentleman, hearing my mention of Rundlett, reminisced, “Rundlett? I went there! Used to walk every day from Franklin Street. I remember a kid named Johnson we used to see on the way. Whatever happened to him?” I had no answer, but I enjoyed the encounter. Conversations like these didn’t necessarily help my chances, but they made the experience worthwhile.

There’s an old saying, often attributed to Winston Churchill, that “the best argument against democracy is a five-minute conversation with the average voter.” When I hear that quote, I think about the “wisdom of crowds” phenomenon, which I believe offers an effective counterpoint. At county fairs in the early 1900s, it was noticed that while individual guesses of an ox’s weight were wildly inaccurate, the average of all guesses was surprisingly close to the actual weight, closer than even the experts could estimate. In a similar way, I met people who, objectively speaking, were “way off” in some things they said, but collectively, I think I got closer to a certain truth. We all bring our own perspectives, but together we can often reach more balanced policy decisions than any one expert could on their own.

I hope that collective wisdom favors me on Tuesday. Regardless of the outcome, I’m grateful for the journey and for the chance to connect with so many people in our community. And hey, if nothing else, I’ve got plenty of new stories to share.