A publisher friend took his two high-school-age children along on a recent trip to Austin where he testified on the recorded votes bill. He thought it would be a good civics lesson in how state government works.

Instead, the afternoon produced the opposite effect, leaving the teen-agers asking how anything ever gets done.

Those of us who spend time in the Capitol, talking to legislators and testifying, wonder the same thing.

A couple weeks ago as Donnis Baggett and I waited to testify at a Senate shield law hearing, we shared our observations and frustrations about the chaos that passes for business as usual under the dome.

Almost two hours past the start time, the committee convened with only three out of seven senators present. Lobbyists wearing expensive socks and fancy cell phones swarmed the rear of the room, where two doors stayed busy for a non-stop procession of entrances and exits. Conversations almost drowned out the business at hand. Stern looks from the committee clerk did little to maintain order. By the time our issue was dispatched, the committee was down to two members.

At the least, it seemed disorganized. At worst, a mockery.

My friend’s children marveled at their own experience, a scene repeated at almost every committee hearing in both chambers.

Folks in the audience behave with little respect for the proceedings. Maybe because they’re accomplished veterans of this government two-step. Perhaps they’re just following the example of senators and representatives whose own behavior ranges from casual to peevish, disinterested and sometimes disdainful.

Realize, though, that the short legislative session demands quick turnaround, pulling state lawmakers in six directions at once, striving to understand the issues, be attentive to constituents and attend overlapping committee hearings on opposite sides of the building. This session they will consider about 7,000 bills, 4,711 filed in the House, 2,406 in the Senate. And while some of those bills are duplicates or dead on arrival or self-aggrandizing, they nonetheless drain attention and energy from the process.

Somehow, the conscientious lawmakers manage to get it all done. Savvy to the system, survivors of the naked political fray.

The others stay on cruise control, letting their staff or lobbyists do the work. Like ghost names on a letterhead, the legislative “furniture” as Texas Monthly dubs the do-nothings, attend to the self-interests of elected office and ignore the real reason for being there. Some of these are the legislators who oppose recorded votes so they won’t be officially accountable to the voters back home. Some of them are in it for the pension; sticking it out 12 years for the retirement checks. The worst of them are looking for their next job; doing what the lobbyists want in exchange for a hefty signing bonus down the road.

As we watched the lurching scene in that Austin committee room, awaiting our turn at the sausage-grinder, Donnis whispered, “Imagine what it’s like in Washington. Multiply this a thousand fold.”

At both levels, the spectacle of government continues to deliver unacceptable degrees of exasperation.

Understand, please, that I admire anyone brave enough to offer themselves up as a candidate. The requirements of time and intellect are daunting, the issues complex and the public scrutiny intrusive and intimidating, mounting proportionately to the level of office.

Serving in public office is probably the most selfless act of civic duty. No doubt it’s the most thankless.

Problem is, we seem to be running short on the service side.

My own cynical perspective is based on years of observing the Texas political scene. Those disillusioned teen-agers formed their opinion in one afternoon. For their sake and for future generations, I wish for additional selfless lawmakers with long memories of the voters who put them there.