Have something interesting to say about civic education? Reach out to Nick D’Amuro or James Byrnes.
Nick D’Amuro: ndamuro@gvobces.org
James Byrnes: James_Byrnes@boces.monroe.edu
Paths to Understanding: Stories of Political and Personal Beliefs
Jimmy Byrnes Monroe 1 BOCES Coordinator
This series invites members of the Civi Coalition to share their personal stories of how they arrived at their political beliefs and worldviews. By listening to one another’s experiences, we aim to foster empathy, build community, and deepen our appreciation for differing perspectives. These stories provide context to beliefs and encourage open dialogue, reflection, and thoughtful questions. Together, we seek to bridge divides by focusing on shared humanity and the unique journeys that shape our values.
Some my fondest memories of childhood involve my Uncle Pat. He was our Guy. Uncle Pat lived in Rochester, when the rest of my aunts, uncles and grandparents lived in the suburbs (or country) outside of Pittsburgh and Philadelphia. So, family events, baseball games, hikes, dinners out, and car trips to see family involved my Uncle Pat. We stayed at his apartment for sleepovers, and he was always there for birthdays, Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners, and took the best seat (the one in the way back on the passenger side so he could stretch his legs by the sliding doors) in the back of minivan on car trips to Pittsburgh to see our grandparents.
My uncle, for as long as I knew him, was never married. He did have a friend, DeAnna, who he shared an apartment with for a while and she was awesome, but they were never a couple. Finally, DeAnna moved away and got married when I was still young, maybe 10 or so, and my uncle firmly stated that he was so happy for her every time she came up. I remember him arriving later than planned sometimes because he was tied up with friends or having to leave early to catch up with friends. But he had his own life, and he always made it to the event and was always so present while he was with us.
In the late 1990s I was heading into middle school and gearing up for high school by the fall of 2001. I remember, in that time, saying and being around friends saying “that’s so gay” as an insult. As in whatever you were doing, saying or thinking was just awful, terrible or stupid. Back then, the effort to move away from using language in derogatory ways was just beginning, or least that is how I remember it. I was never in trouble for saying something was “gay” and neither were the other kids in my classes. Our growth when it comes to using language more appropriately has been wonderful and I hope our society continues to grow in that regard.
One year around Christmastime when I was around 14ish years old, my uncle brought a friend with him to our house, Grant. I didn’t think too much about it. Grant was from Australia and was working at the Rochester Planetarium. He probably didn’t have family in Rochester and my uncle invited him to hang out with us for the holidays. But something was different. My uncle and Grant, his friend, were holding hands on the couch. That was not something I had seen before and I asked my dad, who is my uncle’s older brother, about it. Maybe my mom and dad knew, they probably did, because when I asked about my Uncle Pat and Grant holding hands, my dad told me, without hesitation, that my Uncle Pat was gay.
I remember processing that, and working through it, in a way, but ultimately, my Uncle Pat was my guy. I was absolutely unaffected. I don’t know how easy or difficult it was for other members of my family. Some members of my family, including my parents, were/are deep into their faith, which may have had some influence, I really don’t know. If it existed, to their credit, it didn’t exist around me and my siblings.
I remember starting to change the language I used to describe things I didn’t like while I was with my friends or teammates. I remember telling others to “pick another word” or similar phrases. I remember not having too many close friends because of me trying to correct other people’s poor language choices. Mostly because I didn’t want to be around people who constantly used language that offended me.
I started to pay attention to the Gay Marriage issue in the United States. I never gave it much thought until my uncle brought Grant over for Christmas, but now I cared. I loved my uncle and wanted him to be happy. Why could he not be married to the person he loved? I quickly realized that that Democrat Party was more aligned with Gay Marriage (but not much more). Ok, done, even though my folks voted Republican, I knew that I wanted to be on the side that favored my uncle and his ability to live his life. Later, around 2001, my uncle and Grant declared they were moving to Australia together. I wondered if the laws were different there. They weren’t; Australia was having similar debates in their parliament as the United States was in their congress.
It all just seemed so silly to me (and still does) that one person’s religious beliefs should have any influence on how I, or anyone else, lives their life. So, this quickly went from being about me supporting my uncle to supporting his community and then other marginalized communities. Everyone should be free to live their best life, their truth, without influence from others (unless they are doing the worst things, of course). And that really is my worldview and why I identify my politics as liberal democrat. I want everyone, the LGBTQ+ community, the immigrant communities, the sick, the poor, the middle class, the farmers, and so on, to be able to live their best life, be who they are, without negative impacts from their government or communities.
As Fred Rogers said, “We’re all on a journey, and if we can be sensitive to our neighbors, that, to me, is the greatest challenge, as well as the greatest pleasure.”
Learning to Listen in the Classroom: A Journey in Bridging Political Divides
November 15th 2024
By Nick D’Amuro: Genesee Valley BOCES Instructional Coordinator & Civi Coalition
In an age where political divides have become personal, the story of my relationship with a colleague shows that listening and respect are powerful tools in healing divides. Shawna, a longtime colleague and friend, and I come from different sides of the political aisle—I’m a moderate Republican with libertarian leanings, and she’s a liberal Democrat. Despite the polarized climate, our collaboration flourished through our commitment to understanding each other.
When I began teaching social studies in Orleans County, NY, I made a point of keeping my views out of classroom discussions. Students, however, have a knack for picking up on things, and they quickly guessed Shawna’s and my political leanings. Nevertheless, I never confirmed these suspicions, and I made a strong effort to present all viewpoints fairly. Whenever students asked directly, I always responded by sharing multiple perspectives, rather than focusing on my own. Even though students may have sensed my leanings, I wanted to ensure that every opinion was valued and that I wasn’t seen as pushing my views on them.
Early on, Shawna and I recognized our differing perspectives and, rather than avoiding them, we made a habit of talking through political topics. We didn’t dive right into these dialogues, though. We first took the time to get to know each other as people—a crucial step that I believe none of us should skip when approaching challenging conversations. The respect and camaraderie we developed laid a strong foundation, and from there, we instituted a “check yourself” protocol, a system that created space for us to process any news story or event that could provoke strong reactions. This approach brought us closer and deepened our understanding. It also provided a model that would later benefit our students.
Shawna, in particular, inspired me through her intellectual humility—a quality that is increasingly rare today. She often admitted that her own views, and even her party, might not have all the answers, and that perhaps there was wisdom to be found in the other side. This openness, reminiscent of the work of Jonathan Haidt, challenged my assumptions and helped me reflect on my own views more critically. I, too, recognized that none of us have a monopoly on truth, and this mutual humility became a cornerstone of our friendship.
This relationship proved invaluable several years into my career when I decided to run for town council in a neighboring town. My political affiliation was no longer just guessed—it was public. This shift made it more challenging to maintain neutrality in the eyes of students. Yet, because Shawna and I had modeled respectful disagreement and open-minded dialogue, the students could see, in real time, that we were friends and that political differences didn’t need to divide us. They observed the way we discussed difficult topics, maintaining respect and listening to understand rather than to respond. Shawna’s approach—and our visible friendship—made it easier to navigate these new dynamics, creating a classroom environment where students felt safe to explore diverse viewpoints.
The impact of this approach became especially evident in the classroom. Our district’s students largely reflected the surrounding conservative community, and many came into discussions ready to defend or reject ideas rather than explore them. Shawna and I modeled “check yourself” conversations, showing our students that civil discourse across political lines was possible and beneficial. Seeing their teachers—a Democrat and a Republican—engage openly in these ways planted the seeds for more meaningful discussions.
The urgency of this work is clear. Research has shown that dehumanization in politics isn’t a distant threat; it’s here. A 2019 study found that 15-20% of Americans believed the country would be better off if “large numbers” of people from the opposing political party were to die (Kalmoe & Mason, 2019). The gravity of this finding can’t be overstated. In just a few years, polarization may have only deepened, making it critical that we focus on how we engage in politics, not only what we debate. History shows us that dehumanization paves the way for violence, and no society is immune.
Reflecting on Shawna’s humility and her commitment to understanding others reminds me that empathy and openness can bridge even the widest divides. If we hope to heal as a nation, we must prioritize this way of engaging—one that begins with listening, respect, and a willingness to learn. These values can create an environment where political differences don’t have to lead to resentment or hate.
In these divisive times, I urge readers to reach out to someone with a different view, to listen without judgment, and to engage in conversations that reveal our shared humanity. By adopting practices like the “check yourself” protocol, we can change the culture of politics, moving it away from dehumanization and toward understanding. No matter our differences, we are neighbors and fellow citizens first.
References:
Kalmoe, N. P., & Mason, L. (2019). Lethal Mass Partisanship: Prevalence, Correlates, & Electoral Contingencies. National Capital Area Political Science Association.