For January term this year, adventurous students at Hartwick College in upstate New York could travel to the Costa Rican rainforest in search of poison dart frogs--or to the streets of New Hampshire for sightings of Howard Dean and Wesley Clark. Harvard and Hofstra sent expeditions to the state in the fall. UNH students, on the other hand, had only to step out the door to observe presidential candidates in their natural habitat.

These encounters could sometimes occur at inopportune moments. Freshman Tegan Schroeder, for instance, would really rather not have bumped into Sen. John Edwards just outside Hetzel Hall one day in October. "I was coming back from the gym, all sweaty," she explains, "and I didn't want to be seen by anyone."

Normally, Schroeder and her friend Kaitlyn Smith are more than happy to meet presidential candidates, and a couple of weeks later they shook hands with Edwards in a small cafŽ in Dover, N.H., as a camera from "60 Minutes" looked on and a fuzzy boom mike loomed overhead. They heard Edwards speak about education and respond to the concerns of citizens, including a woman whose medicine costs $4,000 a month. But they also got something that TV viewers don't get: an up-close look at a man who might some day occupy the White House.

"Did you notice he was wearing a Timex digital watch?" Smith asked Schroeder on the way back to campus. "It made him seem almost. . . humble." The two students, a Republican and a right-leaning independent, may not have agreed with his positions, but they were struck by the wealthy trial lawyer's ability to connect with everyday people.

Now at the end of her first semester in political science, Smith has met most of the nine Democratic candidates more than once and had her picture taken with five of them. She worked on retired General Wesley Clark's campaign and helped out in his "rapid response" room during the nationally televised Democratic presidential primary debate held at UNH in December. "I also ran into a woman who was running a Draft Gore campaign when I was getting my oil changed," she reports. "But I don't think that counts."

Whether it's just meeting a candidate in the MUB or working on a primary campaign, UNH students have had unparalleled opportunities over the years to participate in the process of selecting a president. This year for the first time they also had the opportunity to take a team-taught class on the primary, where guest speakers included newspaper and television reporters, fund-raisers, an ethics expert, campaign managers and 1988 Democratic presidential nominee Michael Dukakis. Over the semester, each student analyzed one campaign and participated in a group presentation critiqued by a regional coordinator for that campaign.

Now more than ever, UNH students with an interest in political science and public service can learn from the quadrennial presidential frenzy, and some of them have discovered a whole new career path.

"There's no other state where you can do this," says Smith. "We might as well take advantage."

A self-described "incorrigible political junk-ie," assistant professor of political science J. Mark Wrighton is unabashed in his enthusiasm for the theater of the New Hampshire primary. When he co-taught the course on the primary, he peppered the 86 students in the class with dozens of e-mails, liberally strewn with exclamation marks, about opportunities to meet candidates, participate in nationally televised campaign forums and become volunteers or interns. He also kept them abreast of the online voting in the Mrs. Kucinich Contest. ("YOUR vote could make the difference in THIS election!!!")

Originally from Louisiana--his license plate reads KJNMAN, for Cajun Man--Wrighton came to UNH three years ago by way of Texas and Iowa, where he received his doctorate. So he speaks with some authority when he says the class "just wouldn't work anywhere else--not even Iowa."

That's because New Hampshire is a small state, he says, and the people "who are doing this kind of work in the real world" are willing to give their time to interact with students. When Anna Barbara "Bobbie" Hantz '77, former executive director of the state Republican committee, spoke to the class about fund raising, Smith and Schroeder spent nearly an hour talking with her after class and continued a dialogue with her by e-mail.

As a scholar, Wrighton studies--and loves--some of the most unlovable parts of politics, like special interest groups ("It's redundant. All interests are special!"), negative ads (he prefers the term "comparative ads") and the "soft money" used to pay for them. Officially registered undeclared like nearly 40 percent of the state's voters, Wrighton has decidedly Republican tendencies. In that regard, he is unusual in an academic field where nationally an estimated 90 to 95 percent of professors are liberal Democrats.

As columnist David Brooks recently pointed out in the New York Times, conservative applicants to graduate school in political science are sometimes urged to stay "in the closet,"or, as one Harvard professor quipped, just "go to Washington and run the country instead." But Wrighton fits comfortably into the UNH political science department, which has a healthy diversity of political viewpoints.

The other half of the duo teaching the primary course was the mild and fact-filled Andrew Smith, director of the UNH Survey Center. In part because the survey center has had the best record of predicting the outcome of the primary over the years, Smith is in demand for political commentary, spending three to five hours a day on the phone with reporters, media clients and campaign staffers during election season.

Smith, who resembles a tweedy Peter Jennings, hopes students who took the primary class or got involved in a primary campaign have learned "how important the political process is, how important the New Hampshire primary is in the selection of the president--and how different New Hampshire is from the rest of the country in how it goes about voting."

The first invited speakers in the weekly three-hour class were former Republican Gov. Hugh Gregg (who died several weeks later) and longtime Democratic Secretary of State Bill Gardner, co-authors of the 2003 book Why New Hampshire? Contrary to popular belief, New Hampshire's primary has been first almost since the beginning of presidential primaries in the United States. It was originally scheduled to coincide with the traditional town meeting in March, thus in true Yankee fashion "saving money by not heating the town hall twice," according to Gregg and Gardner.

Although it's been first since 1920, New Hampshire's primary didn't draw national attention until 1952, when the state tried to raise voter turnout by adding a nonbinding "beauty contest" in which voters could vote directly for candidates. Suddenly the primary performed the function of an early poll, indicating which way the political winds were blowing.

Over time, New Hampshire citizens became not only extremely likely to vote but also extremely savvy voters. In their book, Gregg and Gardner argue that the state now deserves to be first, and offer many examples of experts who agree with them, such as Harvard's Thomas Patterson. "The turnout rate in New Hampshire is nearly twice as high as in any other state and its residents take their role seriously in other ways," Patterson has written. "One study found they were 100 percent more likely to have particular knowledge of primary election candidates and issues than other Americans."

Primary Central

On Dec. 9, in preparation for the evening's nationally televised Democratic presidential debate, ABC News held a rehearsal and sound check at Johnson Theatre. A question on his domestic-policy platform was lobbed in the direction of the podium marked "Wesley Clark."

"I have no idea what my domestic policy is," replied the candidate. "I probably should, as president. I do want to make sure every student gets to go to college at little expense--in fact, it should be entirely paid for by the taxpayer!"

The "candidate" was Elliot Schultz '05, one of nine UNH students who stood in for the real contenders. "Interns for a day" for ABC and C-Span, the students worked behind the scenes, watched the debate from much-coveted theater seats and then rubbernecked in the "spin room," where the candidates held forth, surrounded by mini-mobs of reporters and cameramen.

Watching the debate live, Wrighton caught things the TV cameras missed--like a moment when Sen. John Kerry glanced at his watch. Wrighton was reminded of the time when George H.W. Bush looked at his watch during his 1992 debate with Bill Clinton, a gesture widely construed as lack of engagement and evidence that Bush had lost the debate. A few moments later, however, Howard Dean confessed that he had looked at his watch and noticed, with only 12 minutes remaining, that little had been discussed other than Iraq. His comment immediately prompted a shift to domestic issues. "They both did it, but Dean was able to make something of it," noted Wrighton.

Students also draw conclusions about the candidates, for better or worse. Edwards "seems like he's on TV" even when you're standing right next to him, noted Jamieson Scott, a junior political science major whose opinions on campaign advertising have been quoted in the Boston Globe. On the other hand, he was favorably impressed by Wesley Clark's "gentleness," which he found surprising in a four-star general.

Matt Garascia '05, also a political science major, shook hands with all nine Democratic candidates over the course of the fall semester. "Whether you ask a question or just talk to them for a moment, you get an idea of how dedicated they are, how concerned they are," he says. "It's a way to look through a window at a candidate's character."

According to pollster Smith, it's a window with a pretty good view. "I don't believe voters vote on the basis of issue positions," says Smith. "Voters are looking for leadership qualities, and you won't find that in position papers. It doesn't come across on TV, and you don't get it in the newspaper. You get it by seeing them, talking to them, and talking with other people who have talked to them. Even in New Hampshire, not that many people meet a candidate, but they probably know somebody who has met that person and will tell them what they're really like. That second wave is very important."

Public spirit

The primary class, with its dozens of politically well-connected speakers, gave students many of those "second wave" glimpses of candidates past and present.

Matt Garascia was only 13 when Bob Dole ran for president in 1996, but he'll never forget a story Republican national committeeman Tom Rath told the class about campaigning with Dole, who had lost the use of his right arm while serving in World War II. "Tom Rath said it was one of the most courageous things he's ever seen--to watch Bob Dole tie his necktie with one hand. He wouldn't accept help. That was just the kind of strong-willed and independent guy he was."

That same year, a major snowstorm provided just enough adversity to reveal something of Tennessee Gov. Lamar Alexander's character to volunteer Sheridan Brown '99, then a freshman political science major at UNH. Although many events had been cancelled across the state, the candidate insisted on going out to meet his supporters. Driving a van for the press, Brown was following Alexander's car in the heavy snow. He remembers sliding around corners, "and at each stop a few more reporters decided to get out and take a cab back." Alexander pressed on, however, and soon several cars ahead of him spun off the road and into a guardrail. Alexander insisted on checking on the drivers, and gave one overwrought woman a ride home.

Alexander's kindness and integrity made a lasting impression on Brown, and influenced his choice of a career. He went on to work for John E. Sununu's reelection to Congress in 1996, and when Brown graduated in 1999, he landed a job as a case worker in Sununu's Congressional office. He now works as a projects assistant in Sununu's Senate office.

It's the character of the people he has worked for that keeps Brown involved in government. "I make a distinction between public servants and politicians, who are driven more by personal ambition than the desire to serve," he explains. "I have been fortunate to work for people who have all been public servants."

Wrighton is gratified to see students like Brown following a path of public service. Both Wrighton and Smith hope their primary class will inspire others to follow that path, and Smith, always the pollster and prognosticator, predicts that six or 10 members of the class will end up in a politics-related career.

D-Day

It was standing room only in the MUB multi-purpose room when 1,000 people showed up to see Howard Dean in early October. Music blared from the loudspeakers:"We-e-e can . . . do the impossible!" On stage, poli sci major Jess Rudman '04 was about to do what seemed impossible to her: speaking in front of people. As president of the Generation Dean organization on campus, she was expected to introduce the candidate.

A tall young woman with a diamond nose stud and brown eyes that light up when she talks, Rudman had been out until 11 p.m. the night before with other Gen Deaners, using 10 buckets of chalk to advertise the rally on sidewalks all over campus. In campaign jargon, the Deaniacs had also been"flyering" and "postering." The resulting crowd standing before her was by far the largest group gathered to see any individual candidate on campus during the primary campaign.

So Rudman was pleased, but still feeling shaky about the introduction. At last Dean hopped purposefully onto the low stage. After a fleeting screech of feedback from the mike, Rudman found herself addressing the crowd easily, smoothly. The short speech was nerve-racking, "but I'm so glad I did it," she recalls. "After that, I canvassed, I knocked on people's doors, I called people on the phone." She spent hours "tabling" in the MUB, giving out information on Dean and voter registration.

Since 1952, only two candidates have become president without first winning the New Hampshire primary, and only two Democrats have been able to win the primary without taking Strafford County. "It makes you feel that your vote is more important," says Rudman. She used that statistic to convince others--no matter whom they supported--that their votes would really count. "I told my friends, 'You're living in the wrong state if you're not political.'"

In January, Rudman became an intern at Dean's Strafford County office, where she didn't mind putting in 16-hour days. With that kind of devotion, it's no surprise that she was heartbroken when Dean lost a sizable lead in the polls and came in second to John Kerry. But she is continuing as an intern with the state Democratic party, and she believes that "all the Democrats are trying to achieve the same objective, and eventually we're all going to be united." Her eyes still light up when she talks about the election. "I'm getting people aware, getting them out there, getting them to vote. There is a possibility that we're going to win an election in 2004, and that I'm going to have an impact."