If you were to ask anyone on my campus to describe November 6, the day after the presidential election, they would likely respond with the word “unremarkable.” For this reason I think it is more important than ever to tell the unremarkable story of my Appalachian campus, cozily nestled in a sea of red, one day after the 2024 presidential election.

In the weeks leading to Election Day, I visualized campus on November 6 with one candidate elected and then-the other. In one scenario I imagined campus in turmoil, an externalized expression of feelings including scenes of protests, riots, and unrest. In the second scenario, I imagined the same turmoil but within myself as a form of internalized grief knowing I would be in the minority. Regardless of whether my candidate won, I was loathing the day after the election because of my uncertainty about how campus was going to react. My coping method for dealing with anxiety was to extinguish fearful fantasies the minute they ignited and ignore this major historic event that was about to happen.

Fast forward to Wednesday, November 6. I walked into my office at 8 am having had very little time to reflect on or process the election. In an ideal situation, I should have had a day to digest the results and gauge students’ demeanor, but I did not have that privilege. I had to jump in with the belief that the world’s worst topic I could discuss the day after the election was how to build a persuasive argument with logic and credibility in a public speaking course. I had one hour to figure out how to address this sensitive topic in a way that did not inflame a potentially already agitated audience–students. My head was not clear after a sleepless night of watching election results and I was doing a miserable job of keeping my emotions composed. I was nervous and foolishly unprepared to teach an already difficult topic to a public speaking class with what I imagined to be a room full of happy students as the majority and a small group of sad students as the minority.

In my anxious and frantic state, I resorted to talking through my thoughts with my Dean by using her as a sounding board at 8:30 am. I had a few tears of anxiety but she remained stoic. Her reaction to my anxiousness was so muted that I began to wonder if I needed to be as nervous as I was. Thankfully, in a few minutes we brainstormed a way to teach logic through lighthearted topics like, why our town should serve free ice cream once per month. This simple approach nurtured my feelings and convinced me to have courage to face students and the day’s topic. My goal was to carry business on as usual without causing emotional instability. I have been especially sensitive towards the emotional tone of my classroom since the pandemic where dark clouds of social isolation and anxiety loom; where concealed weapons on campus have recently been made legal; and where students of an Appalachian community college struggle with real-world issues like poverty, caring for terminally ill loved ones, and drug addiction. By the time I arrived to class at 9:30 am, only one of my colleagues had mentioned the previous night’s election.

After I gave a quick lesson on logic and had students work in groups to create an argument with their lighthearted topics, I realized everyone seemed astoundingly normal. Not one group brought up politics or strayed off topic to discuss election results. They were all very focused on the assignment but were struggling significantly. They could not figure out how to take a stance and build an argument. One group even begged me to tell them what their stance should be on their topic of what season is the best of all. I began to realize the majority were struggling with the assignment because they were terrified to form an opinion among peers whom they had been building relationships with for over 13 weeks. Then I realized their reticence on the election results was for similar reasons. I wanted to be certain that this was true, so I talked to one of the small groups that seemed “safe” to unleash my thoughts.

I explained that it bothered me that there was inevitably both happiness and sadness in the room but not a soul would know. I told them I imagined this being extremely lonely. I explained that I could not imagine anything worse in the world than to feel unable to share a feeling of any kind with anyone and that is what I imagine their experience being with the election. I visualized feelings of emptiness and loneliness as more terrifying than any election results and explained that my wish for them is to take my lesson on how to build an argument to build confidence in learning how to share an opinion and even more importantly how to share an emotion with others. As I was talking, I could tell my words deeply resonated with the students. Students agreed, not through their words, but through their nonverbal reactions. This may not sound like much; but in my post-pandemic days of teaching, the biggest struggle I have is eliciting any kind of verbal or nonverbal response. For the first time this semester, I felt like I was truly talking to humans with real feelings and opinions. Not a single student found the courage to discuss this further but I knew I had left them feeling validated for their undisclosed feelings.

I came back the next day with a new group of public speaking students and tested what I had said to the small group the previous day. I wanted to be sure my perception was accurate. This time, I got one brave student to raise a hand and say, “That is a very kind way of describing us but do you feel deceit when students don’t express themselves?” I responded, “Of course not; I believe that fear to express an opinion and feelings is a very real experience and I want more than anything to empower them to conquer those fears. Loneliness is more terrifying than any elections results.” I could tell I had touched another group of students who were also silently struggling for a voice but were lost in how use them.

To this day, November 14, only one colleague has initiated a conversation about the election results with me and not one single student has. If any election results were discussed on campus, it was because I initiated the conversation. It appears someone has pushed the mute button on my campus for all voices. So, there we have it, a seemingly unremarkable story with a strong message about Generation Z, our inability to engage in meaningful dialogue, and the future of democracy.

Biography

Dr. Mary Beth Held is an Associate Professor of Communication Studies at a community college in Appalachia, where she has dedicated over thirteen years to fostering student voices and academic growth. Dr. Mary Beth Held holds an M.A. in Communication Studies from West Virginia University and a Ph.D. in Higher Education Administration from Ohio University. Her passion for empowering students through effective communication continues to be the driving force of her work, as she remains committed to helping her students develop the skills and confidence to succeed both in and outside the classroom. If you would like to reach Dr. Mary Beth Held, they can be emailed at mheld@wvup.edu.