Where I Stand: For the First Time, I Don't Know
- Curtis Campogni
- 18 minutes ago
- 10 min read
By Curtis Campogni, Candidate for Pinellas County School Board (District 3 – At-Large)
Hey! This is Curtis... from before we knew.
If you've followed these Where I Stand posts throughout this campaign, you know the whole point has been to tell you exactly where I stand. On teachers. On school safety. On parents. On budgets. On the future of public education. And sometimes, just where I stand on this campaign and this strange thing we call politics.
Today, for the first time, I don't know.
As I'm writing this, Election Day hasn't happened yet. Tomorrow night, you'll know something I don't. Maybe we won. Maybe we're heading to November. Maybe this is where the campaign ends. Right now, I genuinely don't know. And that's exactly why I wanted to write this tonight.
Because tomorrow, it will be almost impossible not to look back at this campaign through the lens of the result. A win will make certain decisions feel brilliant. A loss will make it easy to find a hundred things we could have done differently. Tonight, I don't have that luxury. I can only judge this campaign by what I know right now, before a single Election Day vote has been counted.
And here's something I do know: I'm proud.
Not because we ran a perfect campaign. We didn't. Not even close. But I'm proud of how we ran it. I'm proud that someone who had never done this before jumped into a countywide race and found his footing. I'm proud that we tried things people hadn't seen before in a School Board race. I'm proud of the role my family played in it. And more than anything, I'm proud that Maggie and Frankie didn't just hear their dad talk about getting involved in his community.
They watched him do it.
In This Post
But Before We Get to Tomorrow...
Before we talk about what happens if we win, lose, or keep going, there are some people I need to thank. Because whatever happens tomorrow, none of this happened on my own.
First, Maggie and Frankie. Someday, you're probably going to Google your dad. You'll find campaign pictures. Videos. Articles. Maybe you'll even find this. And when you do, I hope you know something: you two were pretty awesome. You went to events. You rode around Pinellas County delivering signs. You sat through speeches you probably didn't understand. You met more strangers than any six- and four-year-old should reasonably be expected to meet during summer vacation. And somehow, you made all of it more fun. Regardless of what happens tomorrow, you two made this campaign a success.
There is absolutely no doubt about that.
Then there's your mom. Kristin does not like politics.
I cannot emphasize that enough.
But somewhere around the middle of this campaign, something changed. A fire was lit, and suddenly, she snapped into action. She was talking to voters. Giving advice. Manning candidate tables. Eventually, she was standing on the side of the road waving signs. I watched someone I love step completely outside of her comfort zone because she believed in me. They say you're only as strong as the person standing beside you. If there was strength in this campaign, a whole lot of it came from her. Thank you.
And Mom and Dad... You made the Campogni name mean something to me long before I ever put it on a campaign sign. Work hard. Be kind. Keep going.
When I was a kid who thought driving to California to become a musician sounded like a perfectly reasonable life plan, you believed in me.
When I got my GED and entered the workforce, you believed in me.
When I decided to leave the security of a steady job and start my own business, you believed in me.
And when I told you I was running for School Board despite never having run for anything before... you believed in me again.
Not everyone gets one parent who stands in their corner like that. I've had two. I know how lucky I am.
To the rest of my family and friends: you showed up. You attended events. Waved signs. Handed things out. Shared posts. Texted your friends and neighbors. Put flyers on cars. Wore shirts. Drove around the county. And you never asked me for a single thing in return.
Man, I am blessed with this family.
But something else happened during this campaign that I wasn't expecting. My circle got bigger. People who had never even heard my name before this campaign gave me something none of us can ever get back: their time.
Some hosted meet-and-greets in their homes. Some gave critical advice. Some wore my shirt. Some put my face in their front yard. Some advocated for me publicly. Others advocated for me quietly, sometimes even when doing so meant stepping outside traditional political lines. And some simply sent a message at exactly the moment I needed one. You did one of the most powerful things one person can do for another.
You supported me. Thank you.
To the organizations that endorsed this campaign: you took a chance on an outlier. You chose a different kind of candidate. Someone without a traditional political team or political background. You asked questions. You interviewed me. You challenged me. And then you decided to put your organization's name next to mine. If tomorrow goes the way we hope, don't lower those expectations. Raise them. Hold me to what I said during this campaign. Expect me to follow through. Question me when something doesn't make sense. Keep me accountable.
An endorsement shouldn't buy loyalty from an elected official. It should create another person willing to hold that official to the standard they promised to meet.
And finally, to the people who quietly filled in the bubble next to my name: thank you. Maybe we met. Maybe you researched me. Maybe someone you trust told you about me. Maybe you just heard something I said that connected with you. Whatever your reason, you made a choice that could change my life and, if successful, help shape this county's future. I don't take that lightly.
To the people who didn't vote for me. Thank you, too. Seriously. Every difficult conversation, disagreement, criticism, and perspective I hadn't considered forced me to think. Sometimes it forced me to be patient. Sometimes it forced me to listen when responding would have been easier. And sometimes it forced me to change my mind. If I'm fortunate enough to serve on the School Board, I won't only represent the people who voted for me. I'll represent you, too. That's the job. And maybe that's the biggest thank-you I can offer: you made me a better candidate.
Now... let's talk about tomorrow.
If We Lost
First, don't start beating yourself up. Actually, I don't think you will. I'm surprisingly at peace with whatever happens tomorrow.
If we lose, there's a pretty simple explanation: we didn't do enough to get our name in front of enough people or give enough people a reason to stop and learn more about us.
That's on me. Don't blame voters. Don't blame politics. Don't blame turnout. Don't look for an excuse that makes the result easier to accept.
We asked the people of Pinellas County to trust us with an incredibly important job. If we didn't earn enough of that trust, learn from it. And then remember everything that happened along the way.
But also remember this: life is often more about the effort you put into something than the outcome. If my days in high school, my career journey, and our experience with adoption taught me anything, it's that how you respond to failure is one of the few moments in life when you have complete control over what happens next.
That's why, in its own way, failure can be a gift. It gives you the opportunity to decide not only who you are, but who you're going to become moving forward.
And this isn't a cliché or something you're telling yourself just to make losing easier. You know better than that. Who you are today is a direct result of the losses you've experienced and, more importantly, what you chose to do in response.
If We Won
Remember who got you there. And I'm not only talking about the people who volunteered, donated, endorsed you, put out signs, wore shirts, shared posts, or filled in that bubble. Remember who you were when you started.
There were moments during this campaign when people tempted you to become someone else. You didn't. Don't start now. Being on the School Board will challenge that far more than campaigning ever did.
And here's something I hope you understand by then: your perspective should change. You're going to learn things you don't know today. You're going to encounter ideas, information, dynamics, and perspectives you haven't considered. If four years from now you see every issue exactly as you do tonight, you probably weren't listening very closely. Changing your perspective because you've learned something isn't abandoning your values.
Your values are what can't change. Authenticity. Empathy. Curiosity. A willingness to listen. A desire to solve problems instead of simply winning arguments. Those things got you here. Lose those, and you're not just letting down the people who voted for you. You're letting down the two little people who spent their summer watching you show them what leadership was supposed to look like.
So yeah, congrats. Celebrate a little. You earned that. But remember: because you won tonight, you now have four months before you take that seat. Four months to listen, learn, ask questions, and understand as much as you possibly can about the job people just trusted you to do.
Don't waste it.
If We're Going to November
Well... get some sleep. Because apparently we're doing this for another eleven weeks. And this one might be harder.
In a three-person race, being the nonpartisan candidate was relatively easy. You actually are politically independent, and you quite literally found yourself standing between two candidates from different political parties. With two candidates, that changes. People will want teams. Organizations will want sides. People will tell you what you need to say, who you need to attack, and what you need to do to win. It might get messy.
Remember this: If you wouldn't do it in a three-candidate race, don't do it in a two-candidate race. Winning matters. It matters a lot. But don't become someone you're not simply because someone tells you that's what winning requires. If being yourself isn't enough, at least you'll still recognize the person looking back at you when it's over.
And to my opponent, I want you to know that while we will be competitors, I don't plan to spend the next eleven weeks consumed with you. My focus will be on becoming the best version of myself for the voters of Pinellas County. I imagine there will be moments when you feel the pull to take different approaches, too. I can't tell you how to run your campaign, nor would I try.
But I hope we both remember this: the person we choose to be during this race doesn't disappear when the race is over. Win or lose, we still have to live with that person.
So let's both consider carefully who we want that person to be. And since I can only answer that question for myself or, I suppose, for you, Curtis from the future, sometime around 9 p.m. on August 18, here’s a letter I wrote for you.
Dear Curtis Campogni, Candidate for School Board District 3...
Someday, I think this is the part you're going to miss. Not the ads. Definitely not the fundraising. Not checking social media numbers or wondering if you could afford another yard sign order.
You're going to miss the summer with the kids.
Taking them to events in parks. Seeing them in the audience while you spoke. Loading up the car and driving all over Pinellas County delivering signs. Watching them meet strangers who smiled at them, talked to them, encouraged their dad, and showed them that despite everything they may eventually hear about politics and our differences, most people are kind.
Nothing will ever be quite like this summer again. They'll get older. Campaign or no campaign, life will move on. But for one summer, the four of you did this together.
Don't forget that.
And don't forget that you surprised yourself a little, too. You were actually pretty good at this. Remember walking into those Meet the Candidates events in St. Petersburg and Clearwater? Remember fundraising? Those were things you weren't particularly comfortable doing. You hate selling. You hate asking people for money. You don't particularly enjoy pitching yourself to strangers.
And then you did all of it.
Not because you suddenly became comfortable doing those things, but because you believed in why you were doing them. That's worth remembering long after this campaign is over.
Sometimes purpose doesn't make uncomfortable things comfortable.
It just makes them worth doing.
There were moments you doubted yourself. There were moments you considered stopping. There were moments people pushed back. There were insults you could have answered with insults of your own, and moments when changing course probably would have been easier. You thought about all of it. And then you kept going. When you could have argued, you tried to understand. When you could have changed yourself to fit what someone else wanted, you stayed grounded in your values. That doesn't mean you always got it right. You didn't. But you tried to respond in a way your kids could someday be proud of.
And I am proud of that.
I hope someday Maggie and Frankie read this, because if there's one thing I hope they take from this crazy summer, it's this: You can hope things change, or you can get involved and try to change them. Sometimes you'll succeed. Sometimes you won't. But don't spend your life sitting on the sidelines complaining about things you were unwilling to help fix.
I hope they remember the people, too. The voters who stopped to talk. The educators. The volunteers. The people who welcomed two little kids tagging along on their dad's campaign. There's a lot of negativity in the world, and someday they'll see plenty of it.
I hope when it happens, they remember this summer showed them something very different.
One question you might be asking around 9 pm tomorrow: was it worth it? I'm writing this before I know whether we won, which means I get to answer that question without knowing the result.
Yes. Absolutely.
I met some of the most passionate and driven people Pinellas County has to offer. I listened to educators who dedicate their lives to children. I met parents who simply want the best possible future for theirs. I met people who disagreed with me and were still willing to have a conversation. And somewhere along the way, I was reminded that there is far more good in our world than bad.
When people get involved, listen to one another, and work together, we actually have an opportunity to shape what comes next. Not only for Maggie and Frankie, but for every young person who calls Pinellas County home.
That's why we did this in the first place.
Tomorrow, voters get to decide what happens next. Tonight, I don't know what they're going to say. Strangely, I'm okay with that. Because whatever that number on the screen says tomorrow night, it can't change what this campaign meant.
So, future Curtis...
You know something I don't.
Where do we stand?
— Curtis
August 17, 2026
Disclaimer: The views expressed here are solely those of Curtis Campogni, Candidate for Pinellas County School Board, District 3 (At-Large), and do not represent the official position of any organization or governing body.
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