On November 5, Election Day, I was tasked with a 16-hour day of election judging. In the little I had heard about election judging in previous years from upperclassmen and adults, I came to understand that I should do it for the experience.
The process to become an election judge is quite simple. I had to meet a set of requirements and was given the form to apply by Upper School history teacher Andrew Bigelow who always mentions what an amazing experience election judging is. The people who selected me, and the other judges, are a part of a bigger group, the Chicago Board of Elections. They are an independent state agency whose job is to supervise the registration and casting of ballots by voters, answer any questions, and organize the elections in Chicago.
In the days leading up to Election Day, it was necessary to go through a four-hour block of training. There were lots of teenagers seated in groups of four in a big, cold room. Two past election coordinators guided us through the process using an election judge handbook and then put our newfound skills into practice by doing hands-on activities.
Soon, it was already 5 a.m. on November 5, and I found myself walking to my precinct’s polling location: The Menomonee Club, precinct 12, ward 43. It was a dark morning with rainy skies. As I approached the building, my election coordinator and another election judge stood waiting outside the doors, hoods up and umbrellas in hand. As we waited to be let inside, we discovered that the judge who was given the key to The Menomonee Club had slept through his alarms and was on his way. After he arrived, we made our way inside our box of a room to finish setting up our equipment and technology.
There were six of us working in total: two teenagers and four adults. We all had the responsibility of treating each other equally and with respect. I would say my co-workers and I did just that.
Before we got to work, I was standing by the door when the 43rd Ward Alderman, Timmy Knudsen, came inside and approached me. He introduced himself to me as the other judges made their way over and wished us the best of luck today as he let us know he would come back to check in later. It turned out that when he came back later, he spent his time meeting people outside in line, coincidentally, he conversed with my dad and neighbors.
After all six of us hung up our jackets and put down our bags, we introduced ourselves and got directly to work while keeping in mind that we had to be open for voters in 50 minutes. The first task I tackled was the electronic voting screen. At our particular location, we only had one available. Setting this up included building the table it rests on, setting up the printer it connects to, along with using a key card and code to make everything accessible for voters to use.
The Americans with Disabilities Act, passed in 1990, is a landmark civil rights law that ensures people with disabilities have equal access to opportunities. It is crucial that this law is followed at polling places because it promotes inclusion, reduces discrimination, and helps create an environment where all individuals, regardless of disability, can fully participate and contribute to our democracy.
While I did this, other workers began to assemble the ballot scanner and the electronic poll books. The E-Poll books are what allow judges to sign in voters, register non-registered voters, and verify identities.
Overall we had 10 paper ballot stations equipped with chairs and privacy panels, along with two lowered tables for those who could not access the taller ones. There were two E-poll books and one ballot scanner to accompany us throughout the day.
At 5:30 a.m. people were already lining up outside the doors. There was never a point during the day when our polling place’s line was not down the block and around the corner. Every so often, I had the occasional veteran Menomonee voter inform me of how they have never in their life experienced such crowding at Menomonee. This made me wonder whether the voter turnout this year was just phenomenal, or whether they combined two precincts. It’s still surreal to me how I came face-to-face with over 800 people in one room over such a short period of time.
Although most people who came in shared with me the respect I showed them, there was the occasional “problematic” voter. For around an hour and a half, my co-workers and I had to deal with a voter who refused to fill out a provisional ballot, however, they never surrendered their mail in the ballot, which is where the issue was. A provisional ballot is a ballot a voter fills out when there are questions about a given voter’s eligibility that must be resolved before the vote can count. To “surrender” a mail-in ballot means to return it and request a new one, usually because of an error or change of mind before submitting it.
I don’t think it occurred to them over the time of their phone calls and complaints that if they truly did not submit the mail-in, then their provisional would count in the long run. Along with this, I was put in a situation where I had to leave my station to remind a person that there was a 100-foot no-campaign zone because a handful of voters complained about harassment outside. As I approached this person and reminded them of the policy, they asked me who I thought I was, and they threatened to call the Chicago Board of Elections. I in turn asked who they were, told them what was being reported to me, and went back to work.
While there were some lows, there were mostly highs. My community, Old Town, is so much bigger than I imagined. Voters would offer to bring us food and water and ask if we needed anything. I watched mothers with their babies roll in and out, accompanied by Fiancé’s, and couples going on twenty years following shortly behind. More and more throughout the day, I was introduced to new faces and surprised by familiar ones as I handed these people their first form to fill out and asked if they were registered voters or not.
There was one voter in particular who made me think about the arduous commitment of being an election judge. They had been in the first group of early bird voters right at 6:00 and they were kind enough to introduce themselves and converse with me while we both waited for the line to push forward. After they voted on their way out, I got a smile and a wave goodbye. Ten hours later they returned, this time to assist their spouse in voting. They approached me and said, “Do you not have shifts? Have you really been here all day?” and I simply replied yes and earned a smile of sympathy.
Another voter came to vote and then returned later with a box of doughnuts and bottled water for us all.
Because we did not have breaks, my dad dropped by twice to check in on me and brought me coffee and lunch. The voters around me would giggle at the brief interactions, and it would start a new conversation. Residents would ask me questions and provide amusing comments to distract from the chaos surrounding us.
It’s the small acts of kindness that built on top of each other that made a difference. I will say, honestly, that if there was no humor, friendliness, or recognition throughout the day, I would not have felt as well as I did.
As the morning passed and afternoon drifted away, 7:00 p.m. was approaching us. We watched by the door as the sky darkened yet the line did not shorten. It’s a rule, that once the clock hits 7:00, those who are already in line may vote, however, no new voters are eligible to get in line anymore.
I remember sitting there exhausted from the day of work. We were so close to the end, however, there were still forms to be filled out, voters to register, and ballots to be cast. As the people slowly cleared out of the polling place, an occasional person would poke their head in and ask if it was too late. Even during the day, voters would ask if they could come back after 7:00 because they had a quick errand to run. Unfortunately, we couldn’t provide them with the ability to come back.
One person I felt sympathy for had waited in line for a little while, and it was already around 6:15 p.m. They said through tears how they needed to run home because their mom has Alzheimer’s and was left home alone, and before letting any one of us election judges digest the situation or answer her questions, she answered them for herself and ran back outside.
At around 8:30 p.m., we had finally shut the door to Menomonee, and all blankly stared at each other because we still had to clean up. This would take around another hour of time. In training, the man who taught us insisted that if “you are a high school student, leave right at 7:00 p.m. You still have school the following morning and this will keep you,” these words poked out of my brain, however, I felt guilt leaving, so I stayed. A little while later, after sweeping the leaves, sealing the envelopes, and locking the ballots, it was time to sign my signature numerous times.
For every time we ripped on and off a tie, identified a voter, registered a voter, and handed out a provisional ballot, it needed a signature. The most consuming paper to sign was the ballot scanner’s receipt. Throughout the day, it would collect the data and at the end of the night we had to stand there as it printed all the information. We had to sign this five times on different dotted lines.
Looking back on this experience, I am grateful I did it. Some people, after returning to school, asked me why I would choose to be an election judge. It was not because of the civic duty part of it, but because I wanted involvement in something new. Being an election judge was a unique opportunity to engage with the community in a way I never had before. It pushed me outside my comfort zone, taught me the importance of accuracy and responsibility, and offered a deeper understanding of the electoral process. Ultimately, it reminded me that stepping into unfamiliar roles not only broadens our perspective, but also enriches personal growth.
