I trace the threads of my electoral education to elementary school—hunched over onto bent arms, breathing in the smell of wooden number two pencils and eraser dust, right arms outstretched, hands curled into fists. To vote no, we’d leave our thumbs hidden, wrapped around our fingers. To vote yes, we’d raise a thumb, waiting for a teacher to gently push it back down to signal that she'd counted the vote. I don’t remember if we were explicitly taught what voting meant, but like the Pledge of Allegiance, voting was part of the cultural norm. And whether it was by a show of hands, paper ballot, or secret thumb vote, there was only one constancy: plurality. Whoever gets the most votes wins, period.