It all started when I pulled out the Presidential cards I made a few years ago to offer a “knowledge challenge” in honor of Presidents Day for my Passport Kids. I love the spontaneous learning that happens during the conversations these challenges inspire.

The challenge was to put all the presidents in order, from Washington to Trump. As a bonus, I asked them to name the eight presidents who have died in office and how they died. Over the years, I’ve found that presidential deaths are a huge topic of conversation with kids, and they end up asking questions about all sorts of things. What can I say? If it works, keep working.

So in a moment geckoa precocious eight-year-old girl asks, “Why is there a mirror on the back of the last card?”

“That’s because we don’t yet know who the next president will be, and one day it might even be you.”

Satisfied with my answer, she goes back to playing with the other children. I soon hear an argument starting over which of the children will be the next president. I ended the discussion with a spontaneous announcement. “We live in a presidential democracy, so if you want to be president, you have to run for office. Write your name on the board if you want to run and we will have an election.” As the kids scrambled to write their names on the board, I scrambled to find my sticky notes.

“Okay, everyone who’s going to vote please come to the circle, so our candidates can give their campaign speeches.” Everyone wanted to play and almost everyone wanted to run. I introduced each candidate in turn. His speeches ranged from “If you vote for me, I’ll let people do anything as long as they don’t break the rules” to “Rain is made of dogs; rain is made of dogs; rain is made of dogs.”

After his speeches, I handed out the sticky slips. The most common questions were: “Can I vote if I run?” and “Can I vote for myself?” To which I replied, “In a presidential democracy, you can. Everyone can vote, even Miss Lucy and me.”

We count the votes and announce the winners; Jerome was president and gecko was vice president. I grabbed my Pocket Constitution—yes, I’m a nerd who carries a Pocket Constitution in my bag—along with some old coasters he’d donated that I’d saved because they looked a bit like prizes. “Inauguration time,” I yelled.

“What is an inauguration?” asked one of the children.

“It’s when they take the oath of office,” I reply. “Come to see”.

As I hummed Hail to the Chief, I had each stand up and place their hand on the Constitution, and vow to “faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and to the best of its ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States.”

Halfway through the ceremony, two of my other regular sons walked in late due to basketball practice.

“What’s going on?” ten-year-old Brian asked.

“We are wearing our new president,” was the reply.

“I want to be president.”

“Too late, we already voted.”

“But I wasn’t here. I want to charge him.”

I informed him that only the House of Representatives can impeach the president.

“So I want to be that,” and as I put a quick diagram of the branches of our federal government on the board, the kids held a special election to fill the vacancies in the House and Senate. They declared their intention to run, gave speeches, made promises, and finally voted.

Brian was voted in as a fifth grade representative and immediately after use, he got the House to impeach the president.

His joy faded a bit when I told him the Senate had to hold a hearing on whether or not to endorse impeachment, and in the meantime, Jerome was still president; then I told Jerome that he might want to add someone to the Supreme Court.

Jerome scrunched up his face, looked around and said, “I miss you…YOU!”

“I think you’ve made an excellent choice and I promise to uphold our Constitution. Now let’s see if the Senate approves your nomination.” The Senate did, and I let the president tire me out because we didn’t have other judges to tire me out.

We then held an impeachment hearing, and as hard as he tried, Brian couldn’t get the Senate to agree to impeach Jerome.

With the day nearly over, the children demanded to know when the next election would be. “Well, I guess if we turn years into weeks, we should have our next election in two weeks for Representatives, six weeks for Senators, and four weeks for President and Vice President,” I told them. Not satisfied, gecko We asked if we could impeach the law, so we had a discussion about what it takes to amend the Constitution. When they asked me how long I would be a judge, I proudly explained the meaning of dating for life Brian wanted to know all the powers I had as Speaker of the House, so I took out my pocket Constitution, and before I knew it, I had six heads packed together listening avidly as I read parts of the Constitution to them.

Brian was delighted to learn that, as Speaker of the House, he was third in line for the presidency. He was also intrigued that in 1778, the year the Constitution was finally ratified, they wrote the word choose as chuse, sparking a new discussion about how languages ​​evolve.

The saga will continue as we will keep this new game as a permanent part of our after school program. It’s been over a week, and they still haven’t gotten tired of playing it and my Pocket Constitution is referenced daily. Also, I dare say my kids know a little more about how a Presidential Democracy works than some adults I know.

Games are really the best way to teach.