There are a
whole lot of things that we do simply because we have to. Some things we don’t like to do, while other
things are a pleasure to do. Of those
things that are distasteful and for those things we don’t like to do, if we’re
lucky, we get to blame someone else.
“It’s her fault!” “It’s just part
of my job!” “I have no choice!”
I went to a
boarding high school and those of us who had financial difficulties had a sort
of work study program. Two or three
times a week, I had to work in one of the classrooms. I’d empty trash, sweep the floor, clean and
wash the chalkboards (yes, we had them back then), straighten desks. A little less often, I had to wash windows.
It never took a
great amount of time, but it did take time.
It took me away from my friends.
It took me away from things I enjoyed doing such as reading, listening
to music, watching TV, messing around outside in a pick-up football or
basketball game or a game of Capture The Flag.
I realized that I had to do it because my parents couldn’t afford the
whole tuition, but I resented it some.
Maybe a lot. I looked at it as a
duty. A chore. Something I had to do.
Brother Fabian
was my supervisor. An older guy. Had a limp and snowy white hair. Stooped a bit. Quiet.
Usually had a smile, maybe a tune he’d whistle.
After I thought
I was done with my work, I’d find Brother Fabian and he’d inspect my room, and
usually, there was something I had missed.
I don’t think I ever passed inspection the first go-round. Usually it took two or three times to get it
right in his mind.
One evening
after I had passed his inspection he asked me to take a seat, so I did. Immediately I ran through a list of
possibilities, of things I might get reprimanded for, but there wasn’t anything
that jumped out. But in a teenager’s
mind, anything was a possibility.
He asked me,
“Why do you clean this classroom?” I
told him because I had to. He smiled and
nodded and said, “Why do you think I clean the building?” I shrugged, not willing to say he got
assigned the job because he must have done something to deserve it. He told me that he loved the building. He liked making sure kids like me had a clean
room to go to, a clean hallway to walk down.
He said he wanted to make sure that when someone like me sat in a desk,
it wouldn’t fall apart. He talked about
pride. He talked about duty. He talked about service and he talked of
love.
Back then, I
think I sat there like Charlie Brown and the “Waa, Waa, Waa” noise must have
played in my ears and through my head.
But I think something stuck because I remember Brother Fabian and I
remember the conversation like it was yesterday. So I guess, not so much of Charlie Brown and
the “Waa, Waa, Waa” after all.
Out Of Duty Or
Love?
One state and at
least six years ago at my previous building, we had a bully. He picked on everyone smaller, skinnier, and
shorter than he. One day, a tiny
freshman carrying an armful of books walked in front of him towards class, and this
bully shoved the kid so hard that the tiny kid went flying along with
everything he carried. Books, papers,
pens, paper and a calculator all over the hallway. Most kids laughed. Almost all kept moving on to their classrooms
and their next class. Almost all, but
one.
Nate, a senior
who didn’t even know the name of the tiny kid, stopped, set his books down and
gathered the little kid’s books and pens and papers and calculator, piled
everything onto his own books, helped the tiny kid to his feet, and then
escorted the tiny kid to class, carrying the kid’s books and supplies for
him. Did this without a word. Nate walked into the classroom with the tiny
kid. Went to the tiny kid’s desk and set
the kid’s books and supplies down, and said, “I’ll meet you here after
class.” And then Nate left. And sure enough, Nate met him at the door
when the bell rang and walked with him to the next class. Did that for a couple of days.
I found out
about it and asked Nate, “Why?” He
shrugged and didn’t say a word. I
thanked him. He blushed and shrugged
again, and left my office. From then on,
whenever I saw Nate in the hallway, he would give me a nod. Sometimes I’d see him walking with the tiny
kid and on those occasions, Nate didn’t nod or acknowledge me in the
least. That was okay. Very okay.
Out Of Duty Or
Love?
I think we do
all kinds of things out of duty. Some
pleasant, some not so much. I think we
do all sorts of things out of love, and again, some pleasant, some not so
much. But I think both can be, and
usually are, beneficial . . . to us, to each other, to others. I think we learn things about ourselves if we
examine why we do what we do, and I think others learn things about us in their
observations of us doing those things. I
think kids learn a lot about us as we go through life doing this or doing that
and the attitude we take when doing this or that. Duty?
Love? Maybe one or the
other. Sometimes both, I think. Something to think about . . .
Live Your Life,
and Make A Difference!
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Thank you for your comment. I welcome your thought. Joe