I woke up the other morning puzzled as to how I was going to get my day started; what would actually set the tone for the rest of my week. As I was getting ready I hear this debate on the news pertaining to Pre-K and the possibility of having to raise taxes to fund this program. Shortly after that I hear my grandmother discussing early voting on this particular matter…suddenly I had an idea. My morning would consist of meeting my peers, classmates, neighbors, etc . at the polls to cast our ballot. After getting ready and listening more as student council and student board members debated over the pros and cons; I was so anxious to get there. Of course, I’ve voted but it was always late and or due to my mother or grandmother harassing me about it. I was being an adult and taking the initiative to voice my opinion by casting a vote. Surprisingly, I get to the voting location and I’m surrounded by nothing but elderly people. One of the ladies working made a comment of how proud she was that a person my age would even consider coming to vote and alone at that.  That comment led me to believe that no one near my age had yet been there and that was appalling to me. In my attempt to get discouraged, I started to appreciate all the elderly people that I  saw leaving and coming. I wasn’t second guessing voting, it was the fact that I have peers that could be directly impacted by this and they had no intentions or interest in voting. The young ladies that are becoming future educators like myself and those friends that are currently having financial hardships should have been the first in line. The result of this program being passed is a raise in sales taxes…none of us could really afford that. I guess the younger generation has not yet learned to appreciate the past in which African Americans had no right to vote especially in the South. There were people on walking canes, in wheel chairs, and in a physical condition in which they could have easily chosen to stay at home. Maybe their motivation was them remembering the place in which they or their parents lived where blacks were excluded and now  they’re taking advantage of all opportunities today.  A scripture came to me as I continued to look around the room, “never grow weary in well doing” and at this point I was patting myself on the back.  So often I’ve found that daring to be different is frightening to people, especially the blacks. The fact that we live in a “monkey see monkey do” time doesn’t make being pro-active in things such as voting any easier. The majority of the elderly people that I saw voting that day were blacks and even though African Americans have overcome oppression, the things that were once void in their lives in very much appreciated today. I’m one out of a million young African Americans, but I know that I stand alone. My decision to vote in elections, community wide issues, ect. is not only for myself but for my ancestors that didn’t have the opportunity to or whom’s voice was not allowed to be heard. We need to jump on the bandwagon..its a new day yall!