Will Haskell - 100,000 First Bosses: My Unlikely Path as a 22-Year-Old Lawmaker

100,000 First Bosses

My Unlikely Path as a 22-Year-Old Lawmaker

Will Haskell

One of Americas Youngest State Senators

A VID R EADER P RESS

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Copyright 2022 by Will Haskell

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First Avid Reader Press hardcover edition January 2022

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Interior design by Kyle Kabel

Jacket design by Math Monahan

Jacket photograph by Cloe Poisson/Hartford Courant/Tribune News Service

Author photograph Jerri Graham Photography

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.

ISBN 978-1-9821-6401-0

ISBN 978-1-9821-6403-4 (ebook)

For my remarkable mom.

F ive of us sat in a windowless conference room on the fifth floor of the capitol building. The walls were decorated with the sort of soothing, though maybe unsettling, posters youd find in a dentists office. And we were making community college free in the state of Connecticut.

Should free tuition be available to full-time students and part-time students? Naurin asked. She and the other two nonpartisan attorneys didnt have an agenda to push. They just needed to know what the legislation should say.

I froze and looked at Gregg Haddad, the House chair of the Higher Education Committee. Gregg had been working on this policy for decades, but he was nice enough to treat me as an equal when drafting bills. My toes crunched and my shoes felt too small, like they did when I didnt know the answer on a chemistry test.

Janelle, a policy wonk who always had exactly the information you needed at exactly the moment you needed it, helpfully chimed in. Including part-time students would dramatically increase the cost of the program, she said.

Okay, lets stick to full-time students, then, I answered.

And what about students who already have their tuition covered by scholarships? Naurin asked.

I looked to Gregg for reassurance. We should include a stipend to help those students afford books and transportation, he said.

That seemed like the right answer. That way theres something in this bill for low-income families, too, I added.

Okay, and age requirements? Naurin asked. Is this just for recent high school graduates?

No, I answered, my toes finally unclenched. Lets keep it open to anyone who hasnt gone to college before. I thought about my grandmother, who earned her degree decades after she had graduated from high school. Surely thousands of adults could benefit from a chance to learn new skills at their local community college.

Naurins questions kept coming, and with each one I started to relax a little bit more. It dawned on me that this meeting was the reason Id knocked on so many doors, shaken so many hands, and made a very unusual decision after graduation. The pomp and circumstance of being elected into the state Senate had given way to the nuts and bolts of public policy, the details of which would be hashed out today in this drab conference room. Less than a year after graduating from college myself, I was now in a position to help others afford a degree. I didnt have an answer to each of Naurins questions, but I was figuring out how to think them through, take some chances, and effectively legislate on behalf of a community that had given me this job.

For months, members of my community had doubted if I was really ready to be a state senator. After all, Id never had a real job before. I was untested and, to some, unelectable. Sometimes those concerns were whispered, and other times they were laid out in the opinion section of the local paper. Most of the time, peoples skepticism paled in comparison to the doubt I had in myself. Whereas most recent college graduates were bending over backward to make their first boss happy, I was twisting myself into contortions trying to please 100,000 constituents. They were all my first bosses, and I was determined to demonstrate that theyd made the right choice. Sitting in this conference room, I finally realized that I was up to this job. Because I was doing it.

A few times every month, I get a call on my cell phone from a young person who is thinking about running for office. They share their rsum and describe the values of their future constituents or the challenges facing the zip code they hope to represent. I hear about the terrible voting record of the incumbent they plan to oustinvariably someone who has lost touch with the community and often someone who has held office for longer than this potential candidate has been alive. And they ask questions, both big (Will voters take me seriously?) and small (Who should be my treasurer?). Im never sure how to respond to either type of question, because the United States has 1,938 state Senate districts, and I only know what its like to represent one of them. Ive noticed, though, that these callers usually tell me that they want to run for office one day. And every time, I encourage them to rethink their timeline. From the rising cost of college to the rapidly warming planet, the problems our country and communities face are too urgent to only warrant our attention one day in the future.

So I find myself telling stories from my campaign and my first year in office. Surely some lessons learned in my tiny corner of my tiny state are relevant elsewhere, and Im eager to encourage other young people on their own journey to their own statehouse. I talk about hiring my college roommate to serve as my campaign manager, building a bunk bed in our tiny apartment, and then building an unconventional campaign team. I talk about how to decide which houses to approach while visiting your voters neighborhoods and what to say when someone actually opens the door.

For a generation that came of age as a reality-TV star was elected leader of the free world, young people are surprisingly optimistic about what their future will look like. Sure, Donald Trumps divisive and cruel rhetoric drove many people to look at the government and throw up their hands in disgust. But even (and especially) during the worst moments of Trumps presidency, Id get that call from someone who was rolling up their sleeves instead. Those conversations left me excited for the next chapter of American politics, because I know that the candidates I hear from are just the tip of the iceberg. Across the country, impatient young people are taking a close look at their representatives and deciding they can do better. They heard President Obama encourage those who are disappointed in their elected officials [to] grab a clipboard, get some signatures, and run for office yourself, and theyre taking him up on it.

This isnt a how-to-run-for-office guide for young people, because I believe campaigns and candidates are too unique to make a book like that useful. Instead, this book continues the conversation Ive had with so many other young people who want a seat at the table when public policy is written. In each room where decisions are made, millennials and Gen Z are systematically underrepresented. Every day, policy makers in town halls, state capitols, and Congress decide what the next century of American life will look like, but too often they do so without any input from stakeholders in that future. Representative democracy remains an unfulfilled promise, with white male baby boomers dominating the conversation on both sides of the aisle. Although I dont add much to the diversity of the state Senate, I do bring down the average age by quite a bit.