Chris found the wallet and tried to return it but couldn't do so and eventually gave in to the temptation of using the money. Have you ever tried to "do the right thing" and have it not go the way you thought it might? (No questions, reviews or readings for this posting)
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When I was a bright, unjaded high school senior, I could have sworn that the world was my oyster. I had decent grades, I was going to a good school, I had a plan and I had great friends. Four years, later, I was beyond jaded. I was busy, stressed, and probably one of the worst students I knew. My attempt at the "right thing" to do happened at the pinnacle of my college career, and now I will share it with you all.
As a senior English major, one of the curricular tasks assigned is to write a thesis. From what I learned after the fact, most people do not do a full on research thesis. They choose a book and write about other critics' opinions of it and then throw in an agree or disagree page.
The "right thing" that I was going to do was write an actual, honest to goodness researched thesis paper on an idea i'd been kicking around since I saw a Samuel Beckett play in college and then read about the structure of Drama in Literary Criticism. (This is a lot of set up and I apologize, but it's necessary for the story). This paper was going to be awesome! It was going to show my scholarly prowess and it was going to make me feel like a student worthy of the degree he sought.
What nobody ever told me was how incredibly difficult it would be to write a thesis on a topic mostly undiscussed. This would be the part where my good deed went awry. Instead of writing a fantastic paper, I researched, started, stopped, put off, restarted, and procrastinated for an entire semester. Then, I finally got my nose to the grind.
The kicker to this whole story is that I didn't register for the class because I didn't want to fail it. At the end of the semester, I had one revision left on my paper. If I would have registered, I would have been a graduate by the end of June '08.
The somewhat happy ending to this whole story is that I'm am now officially a graduate of my undergrad. It only took me an extra year and $1400 to finish. YAY ME!
The moral of this story: If you're going to do the right thing to yourself academically, be sure you know exactly what you are getting into. Also, always register for classes when they are being paid for by scholarships; Never out of your own pocket.
Last winter I was driving the day after we had a big snowstorm. I was coming up to a stop sign and I started slipping on the ice. I was not going very fast, but I couldn’t stop and I tapped the bumper of the minivan that was stopped at the stop sign. I immediately got out of my car and looked to see if there was any damage. My car was fine, but there was a small dent on the bumper of the van. The driver of the van—who was a lady—got out and I began apologizing right away, because I knew it was my fault. The lady began yelling at me. When she finally stopped yelling I offered to give her my phone number. She said no because she said that I would give her a fake number. She ended up writing down my license plate number. She got back in her car without saying anything else. I stood there until she drove away because she did not give any reason for me to believe that she was done talking (or yelling). She drove away and so I returned to work. The rest of that day and the next I waited nervously for a phone call from the lady… I never heard from her. I very easy could have just driven off without stopping to exchange numbers or check for damage, but I had thought that by offering right away, the situation would not turn into a disaster. The real surprise was when I never got a call from her.
"... a combination of realism and suspense. Young adults will find this book engaging and authentic... A compelling, rewarding read." CM Magazine : "[Vicki Grant's] coherent, snappy prose maintains a steady pace... undeniably motivating; readers will feel able to commit to this book... Recommended."
CM magazine
The first thing that came to mind is rather minor, but did end up causing alot of heartache although it began innocently. With email, and you cannot see the intention of the writer, it is easy to take words out of context. I tend to have an abrupt style of writing, and many people have asked later if I was angry at them, when I was not; just my writing style! I was in contact with a family member asking how a family function would go down, and because of how it was written they felt as though they were being attacked which was not at all my intention. When I tried to go backtrack and explain myself, and that I was in no way trying to be mean, rude, etc; at that point the family member had boiled over and it became a huge issue that lasted several weeks. Eventually things turned out fine, but now when I write personal emails to others I usually read them through 5-6 times to see if anything I am writing can be taken out of context. I know I am a worrywart, but I also do not want to cause undue friction!
I was taking a class last summer at Metro for Sign Language Interpreting. I went to all of the classes, did all of the homework, and even participated in class(which is a difficult thing for me to do as I usually turn bright red and start to stutter or worse even if I know exactly what I want to say) and put in my usual effort for the class. At the end of class my professor told me that I recieved a B in the class, even though some of the students who skipped classes, didn't do their homework, or just plain interupted the class with something completely off topic, recieved A's or A+'s. I checked my grade later online and my professor had dropped it down to a C without me knowing. I had to email him to figure out why that was, and he finally gave me the B he promised. I didn't slack off in this class, and it was just an unhappy surprise to find out that my work was unsatisfactory.
Currently for the summer I am employed at FunPlex. I work on the rides and have to monitor kids. For one particular ride, the slick track go-carts. The track is waxed so sometimes kids lose control and hit things. They are not suppose to do this but they know that they can hit each other and make it look like and accident. It is my job to make sure that they are not hitting each other intentionally. Sometimes this results in me having to kick someone off of the ride. I do not like to do this. But when I did the kid got mad and told me it wasn't his fault, which it clearly was. Luckily my fellow employees backed me up, but it is unnerving having someone yell at you, when you know you are doing the right thing.
Response:
I tried to do the right thing when my mom’s dog injured her back. Tootsie was our much beloved dachshund. After having puppies and being overweight, she damaged a disk in her spine and was paralyzed waist down. My mom didn’t seek a vet right away and instead tried floating her in a tub to realign the disk. The next day my mom and brother had to pick me up from college and brought Tootsie along. Her back feet were cold and her brown eyes looked up at me pleadingly. I knew something was terribly wrong and she needed immediate help. As soon as we came home, I took her to our vet. He felt she would never recover from being paralyzed for two days and advised that she be put to sleep. The only other alternative was to take her to UW-Madison for an expensive surgery. Tears were pouring down my face leaving the vet’s office. I decided to take her for the surgery and spent money I really didn’t have. Even though she survived the surgery, Tootsie never walked again and had to use a doggy wheelchair. Her bladder and bowel functions were something she could no longer control either. She lived for two years after the surgery, but to this day, I feel I should have let her go. I was doing the right thing for myself, not her.
Review: KLIATT
Once again, Orca Soundings has provided a high-quality story for reluctant readers. This fast-paced, heart-thumping novel is about what it's like to get the chance to live someone else's life. Christopher Bent is a senior in high school whose family believes he is lazy and will not amount to anything. At school, things are hardly better, with Mr. Oxner looking for him to screw up once again and suspend him. But, all Chris has to do is get through a few more weeks of high school without getting himself in trouble. The one good thing is Alexa Doucette, who has recently shown some interest in him, though he cannot fathom why a girl of her status would want anything to do with him. And then he finds a wallet that changes everything: now he has access to a bank account loaded with money and a license that, with some hair dye, matches Chris's description. Although the temptation to do the right thing is there, it is this wallet that symbolizes what Chris wants for his life. What if creating a new life really is this easy? I.D. will appeal to most any upper middle school or high school boy because of its current-day theme and fast-paced action, packed into a short novel. A definite recommendation for reluctant readers.
Several years ago, shortly after my dad passed away, my mom found herself in a situation where she was going to lose the house she and my dad had lived in since he retired from the Army. Financially, there was nothing I could do for her, however, I did offer to let her live with my family until she was able to get back on her feet. I knew this was going to be a difficult time simply because somewhere along the line I seemed to have fallen out of favor with my mother and no matter what I did it never seemed to match up to my mother’s expectations. In my mind I knew it was a futile effort, but I was determined to prove to my mom that I was in fact a good person and that I could do the right thing. After several conversations with my husband, I finally convinced him that this was the right thing to do and we should at least give it a try. We asked only one condition, that my youngest sister, who had a habit of stealing from family members, not be allowed in our house. My mom begrudgingly agreed.
Shortly after she moved in we noticed my mom’s sleeping habits had changed. Around the same time, my husband and I began to notice that things were beginning to disappear from around the house. We had our suspicions that my youngest sister had been stopping by while we were at work and school and taking our things, but we had no actual proof. It wasn’t until one morning, I found my mom sleeping on the couch and my youngest sister sleeping in my mom’s room. My husband and I confronted my mom and asked her why she would betray our wishes. She informed us that we were insensitive and inconsiderate and demanded that we let my youngest sister stay with us. It was at this point my husband and I decided that it was time for mom to move out. Telling my mom that she could not live with us any longer was probably one of the hardest things I have ever had to do, but at the same time it was very therapeutic for me. It helped me to see that I do in fact have a backbone and that I can stand up for myself.
While this was definitely not the outcome I had idealized in my mind, I don’t see how it could have turned out any better for me. By telling my mom that she had to leave, I began the journey of discovering who and what kind of person I am.
Knight-ID blog
In 4th grade, we usually sat outside after lunch when the weather was nice. There was a cement patio next to the south side of the school and about six of us were just finding our places.
We were kind of horsing around when a seventh girl ran over to us. The rest of the circle started to squeeze together to make more room for her. But, she was going to land on someone's foot and it was going to hurt. So, I said to "Watch out" and another girl and I tried to get out of the way. The newest arrival managed to land safely on the patio and not on someone's up turned foot. However, out of the corner of my eye, I saw in a hundredth of a second that I was going to land on my friend's 45 record Whack! I accidentally sat on Arlene's record. It broke in two. It was the song she brought that day for our singing time. I got up immediately and picked up the two pieces. "I'm so sorry, " I said. She reached out to take the pieces and her head dropped.
"It's OK," she mumbled.
I can still see her placing the pieces in her lap, cradled in the red and green plaid dress edged in tiny white ruffles.
What a goof ball. I felt so stupid. I never break stuff. I never lose things. I always say please and thank you. But, not today! Today, I broke something that belonged to someone, something a friend brought to share. I felt so bad.
That was so long ago but I was so hard on myself that I've never forgotten it. Arlene never spoke to me again after that day. And the next fall she wasn't at my elementary school. Her family had moved away.
About 20 years ago, I thought it would be a good idea for our growing family to become vegetarian because I thought it might be healthier way to eat. To do it properly, I went to the library and researched recipes to make sure we got enough nutrients/protein. So gradually we moved in that direction. Unfortunately, the results were disastrous. I became anemic to the point of almost anorexic-behavior. I just stopped wanting to eat, my hair was turning gray, and my body constantly hurt. The kids were complaining about not enough protein and not feeling well and had constant colds. When I put a lot more protein back into our diet, the kids recovered faster than I did. But I did recover and regain my health.
REVIEW:
"Vicki Grant's fast-paced novella for reluctant-reader teens raises great points about ethics and how they crumble... What a rush of a read!" Georgia Straight
My family has never been a “church-going” family. However, when I was in about 6th grade, I found my own church to go to. When I moved to Ogallala, the church I was currently involved with introduced me to some people in Ogallala. I then began attending their church. I attended that church for 4 years. I taught vacation Bible School, went to EVERY youth group meeting and event. I went to every camp. I was very active in the church, even though I was the only one in my family going there. When it came time for me to graduate High School, the church did a big surprise ceremony for the graduates. They had a slideshow of pictures for the graduates, they called the graduates up and gave them gifts. I sat through the entire service watching my peers get congratulated, while there was never once a mention of my name, or a picture of me. They were even praising a student who had only been going to that church for a month. I was extremely angry and never returned to that church again. I thought I was doing all the right things for those 4 years. I guess I wasn’t.
05/21/08
William rated it:
bookshelves: young-adult
Read in May, 2008
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1387071.I_d_
Another Orca Soundings book - good quick reads especially beneficial to reluctant readers. The story was pretty good and suspenseful - had a nice (although a little predictable, but in a nice way) ending. Also, a good underlying message for those students who might wish they were someone else. Well written, good characters. I liked it.
I am the caretaker of the family and felt it was my duty to help care for my grandmother. So, I have lived with my mother and grandmother for many years (I have an “apartment” in the basement) and have worked on projects (craft and otherwise) with my grandma, which include scrapbooks (I am a picture freak!!). One year, on her birthday, my grandmother fell and broke her hip. It was a downward spiral from there. I, along with my mother, cared for her until her death 6 months later. When it was time for the funeral my uncle and his family came to town. Right away my cousins started “picking at the walls” saying what they wanted etc. I explained that this was my home too and that it was inappropriate to start taking things off the walls at the time but if they would like to write me later I would send things after I checked the will and other papers grandma had left which designated things to people. But my uncle I right away gave things I knew grandma wanted him to have such as his picture album she had me help her with. Grandma had not finished mom’s album yet but the pictures were in a box. Uncle Mike asked if he could take the photos to Texas to scan so he could have copies. I didn’t see why not, it seemed like the right thing to do (they would both have a copy of the pictures), but explained that these were the photos Grandma intended for mom’s album. He took the box with him promising to return them in a few months when he was to come back to Omaha. I have visited my cousins and seen what I hope are copies of some of those photos on their walls. It will be four years this July and I have yet to see those pictures returned. Again, I thought it was the right thing, but now my mother is angry and upset because she doesn’t have the pictures Grandma meant for her to have.
Response:
I don’t know that I can think of a particular instance, but I can relate the question to the first time that I learned the term “altruistic.” When an instructor introduced the idea to me that we do things that we think are “right” for the sake of our own personal fulfillment, I was a bit taken aback. I started to recognize a pattern: when I do the “right thing” expecting a certain response (I dare say, anticipating a specific response), I rarely get the expected response. I can always recognize this instance when I feel let down after having done the right thing. However, when I do the “right thing” instinctively, I don’t really expect any sort of recognition and am usually pleasantly surprised by the result.
I try very hard to be a good role model for my children. There are days I do not do a very good job though, for a variety of reasons. This particular day we were at a Hallmark store and I was purchasing some cards. My son pointed out that someone had dropped a twenty dollar bill in the cubbies in front of the cashier stand. I had him give it to the cashier and explain where he found it. We then exited the store. The clerk followed us out of the store and tried to give the money back to me, explaining they would have no way of knowing if it “truly” belonged to a person or not. How could you not identify a twenty dollar bill? I found myself standing there in the parking lot explaining to the clerk that it could belong to someone that twenty dollars meant a lot. She just stood there and looked at me as if I was nuts. Thinking back I could have let my son keep the money, but I still feel very strongly that someone could have traced their steps back and found that money. I would miss twenty dollars! However, I am pretty sure the clerks had a “free lunch” that day. By my doing the right thing, the wrong people profited. I can say I tried.
I had two very close friends in my beginning years of College. They had been seeing each other for 3 years and I had known both of them for about 6 years. Everything between the two of them was great. They had just gotten engaged and were in the process of planning the wedding. As the story goes, he got drunk one night and slept with one of the waitresses at the restaurant they had their first date and where he proposed. I was the lucky one who stumbled upon his infraction. There were many things that ran through my mind. I knew that I chanced ruining their relationship forever by telling her what had happened, but had to tell myself that if I were her, I would want to know. It was a very difficult decision for me to make, and I chose to tell her. They broke up. He spread some very nasty rumors about me. After first denying what I had told her to be true and finding out the truth from him, I was to blame in her eyes. I lost both of them as friends and a few other acquaintances. As much as it hurt to lose them as friends, I know I did the right thing.
This is not along the same lines as Christopher’s issue, but many times I get myself into trouble with my friends when they want to discuss certain issues going in their lives with me. I personally try to help them come up with a solution to their problem, but most of the time all they want is for me to listen to their problem and let them vent. I feel bad because all I want to do is help, but after I give suggestions they generally are angrier than before. I personally feel like I need to be active in finding a solution to their problems, but instead they want me to be passive. It’s difficult to juggle sometimes.
This might be an extremely lame example but sometimes when I am going to do someone in my family a favor, like reorganize their clothes, or clean their room it does not turn out the way I want it too. I know I have gone into my girls’ room on occasion and cleaned up. Most of the time I get a big THANKS! But sometimes I throw away some treasure and then I am in big trouble. Or I will not make a decision about where we are going to eat dinner, because I want to let someone else decide and then it back fires because the kids all end up arguing about where we should go. I have learned but often forget, that I should just say, “This is where we are going.”
About a little over a year ago, my grandmother was doing very poorly health wise. At the time, she was in a facility and it was looking as though she would be lucky if she made it another month. Although some in our family had reservations, we all decided to take her into our home to care for her. We did not want her passing away in a facility. Each of us changed our schedules to accommodate to her high demanding needs. Upon moving into our very crowded home, she began to get well again. One month living in our home turned into one year. Unfortunately, as the time drug on, so did the lack of happiness and gratitude. The sacrifices that were made never seemed to be enough and went by without being noticed. The intentions were good, but in the end it began to cause a huge rift within out family.
The fall after my divorce was final things were looking up for me and my boys. I had a good job that I liked, the boys were doing well, and I was looking forward to celebrating the holidays on my own. The radio station I listen to was having a promotion for the Salvation Army Adopt-a-Family program. I’d saved some money and decided that I would share my good fortune with a struggling family. After all, I thought, it hadn’t been so long since I’d been struggling myself. So I called the radio station and signed up to “adopt” a single mom with two children. The list of things they needed/wanted was fairly short so I decided to add some things that I thought they would enjoy. The mom hadn’t asked for anything, but I bought some gifts for her as well. I ended up spending about $500 overall. Well worth it, I told myself.
I was nervous about delivering the gifts (which I’d wrapped and ribboned excessively). I wanted my “adopted” mom to be able to give the gifts as she saw fit. I imagined them sitting around their little “Charlie Brown” tree, singing carols, drinking cocoa, and having the best Christmas ever. I felt pretty good about myself…kinda like Santa Claus, except maybe a little (ok, a lot) less altruistic.
My sister accompanied me to the family’s home. She had warned me, after working for United Way, not to spend too much. She told me that Adopt-a-Family was overrun with people who didn’t really need help and that it was quite common for “adopters” to overspend; in fact, the not-so-needy “adoptees” depend on it. I refused to believe her. I thought that even if she was right, it was Christmastime…a time to be charitable. If my adopted family wanted to scam me, it was their bad karma, not mine.
When we arrived, I was relieved to find that the children were not home. We were invited into the modest but warm house where the “mom” (a woman of no more than 18 years who supposedly had 10 and 12-year-old daughters) proceeded to rip open the gifts to examine their contents. I was dumbstruck. My sister was in stitches. The woman then complained that I’d bought the wrong size clothes for the girls, wrong brand of CD player, and wrong color gloves and scarves. She asked for the receipts so that she could exchange the items. I told her that I’d included them in card with her name on it, along with gift certificates to Wal-Mart and Target. My sister and I wished her a Merry Christmas backed out of the home, watching her sort the items I’d so carefully wrapped. She didn’t return our greeting, she didn’t say thank-you, she didn’t even look up from what she was doing when she waved and said ‘bye’.
My sister laughed for the entire 20 minute car-ride back to her apartment. I had to laugh too. I felt like such an idiot not only because I’d obviously been duped, but because I’d just about dislocated my shoulder patting myself on the back for most of the previous month. I suppose I got what I deserved in the end. I still support the Salvation Army during the holidays, but I limit my donations to quarters, dimes, and nickels dropped into the bell-ringer’s bucket.
A couple of years ago at a previous college, I noticed a $20 bill lying on the sidewalk. It was in between classes and campus was pretty deserted. The owner was long gone. Finders’ keepers’ right? Like any normal, broke college student, I picked up the $20 and cheerfully thanked my good luck.
Later that day, while heading out of town for the weekend, I passed a man standing near the interstate on-ramp holding a cardboard sign. I don’t remember exactly what the sign said, but I knew the man needed help. I got about five miles down the road before that $20 bill seemed to literally burn a hole through my purse. I turned around. It just didn’t seem right to keep the money that wasn’t mine to begin with. I pulled into a Wal-Mart at the edge of town and bought $20 worth of bread, crackers, chips, water, fruit, etc. for the man. I pulled up next to him, smiled and handed him the bags of groceries. He looked at me, confused for a second, then swore at me and tried to spit in my car window. Now I was the one confused. I pulled away from the curb a little offended. I did not really expect a heartfelt thank you, but I sure didn’t anticipate the way the man acted. About an hour later I had completely calmed down and realized that the man was probably embarrassed and would have rather had the $20 bill instead. He may have liked the opportunity to spend it as he chose, but I took those decisions away from him. I thought I knew what was best for him, but perhaps he needed something far more than food.
I still feel good about using the money the way I did, but the experience made me contemplate a situation I had never encountered before.
Well, this isn't a serious situation, but earlier this summer, I was walking my dog through the Old Market, coming back from the Farmer's Market. As we crossed 12th Street on Harney, there was this blue Prius pulling up to the stop sign. All the other passing cars were honking at it and people kept shouting at the driver, because he had a large cup of Dr. Pepper sitting on the roof of his car! He was totally oblivious to all the noise, even with his window down, so I walked up to warn him. I thought I was doing a good deed, but he just laughed at me - it was a joke. The cup was fake and was securely fastened to the roof to mess with passersby. What a goof. This was right after my jaw surgery, so I couldn't talk that well anyway - it made me a little irritated that I was trying to help someone who was just being silly, but I can appreciate a good gag when I see one. Too bad it still hurt to laugh at that point!
In my youth, I was an idealist. I had a strongly developed sense of justice, a vague feeling that I was wiser than most of my peers, and a belief that my inner depth and innate maturity gave me the right—nay, the obligation—to share my views with those around me. One night I was in a car with my then-boyfriend (oy, if I could edit my past, that relationship would be deleted in a hurry…) and as we drove down Cass St. we approached a young couple who appeared to be arguing. As we passed them, the guy grabbed the girl—hard—and pinned her to the wall. My boyfriend (ew) slammed on the breaks, grabbed a baseball bat from his trunk (why he had a bat in his trunk, I never bothered to ask. Probably for just such an emergency), and ran across the street yelling at the guy to leave the girl alone. I’m not even going to go into the Napoleon Complex my boyfriend (ick) had, but suffice it to say he was all bark and no bite. Anyway, I’m standing there tsk tsk-ing about it all, and realize that it is my duty to share my superior wisdom with the poor girlfriend, who had been watching the menfolk argue. I edged over to her and gently, sagely, said, “You don’t have to let a man treat you like that,” or something equally profound. She turned to me and said, “Mind your own business, bitch.”
I was shocked. I was dumbfounded. I was a little pissed. I was sure I knew better than she how to handle a situation I had no first-hand knowledge of, so I told her she was an idiot, and if she stayed with a man who hit her blah, blah, blah… She was pissed too and had no problem countering my well-made arguments. So my “good” intentions—saving her from herself—were received not with gratitude, but with attitude. The nerve. No good deed goes unpunished, as they say.
I encountered this type of situation many times in high school. I was on yearbook staff for three of my high school years. Every year, there were events that needed to be covered and many ways to go about covering them. Although the ultimate decision is made by the staff and the advisor, we would also take into account what the readers would like. After all, they are paying for the book and we want it to be as enjoyable as possible for them. We would brainstorm ideas for every single layout that we made, weighing the pros and cons of each option. Finally, we would decide what we thought the “right” decision was. However, each “right” decision always came with some sort of negative feedback. When publishing a book for 1,200 students, you cannot please everyone. We learned this fast. The story always focused on the wrong thing or someone did not like their picture. I came to learn that we would never be able to please everyone. Therefore, when making decisions, we would choose the decision that would be the “right” decision for the most readers.
Something minor that happened to me some years ago was when I met one of my former co-workers at the mall. She had her twin 12-month-olds with her and they were eating in the food court. I was working at a store in the mall at the time and was on my lunch break and – after noticing her – stopped to talk for a bit. Now, I didn’t want to point out to her that her kids probably should have been using booster seats because she’s their mother and her mother was even there too. Well, they should have been because those would have at least been appropriately sized. Instead, over the course of our conversation, I was the only one to notice that one of her little girls was wiggling precariously close to the edge of her chair and was in danger of taking a header onto the nice, hard floor. Without thinking, I reached down and just tried to scoot her back onto her chair where she’d be much safer. Well, I stopped her from falling but she instantly started crying and I got two very irritated looks and the conversation was abruptly cut short as she had to console her crying child. I felt kind of embarassed just because of the way they reacted, but I’m still convinced that keeping her improperly-seated toddler from smashing her head on the floor was the right thing to do.
I had a situation like this happen to me my senior year in high school. I had unpleasantly discovered that one of my best friend’s boyfriends was cheating on her. I really grappled over the decision of whether or not to tell her. In the end, I decided that I should tell her about it because I would want to know the truth if I was in that same situation. Plus knowing this information seemed like a huge weight to carry at the time.
Before telling her, I made sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that this information was in fact true. After I told her, she seemed grateful to know about it, and I was pretty sure she was going to dump this guy.
Well, it turned out that she forgave him, and they stayed together. Not only have they stayed together since high school, but also now they are married. My disclosure of this information turned out to ruin our friendship. Although, she was not overtly upset with me, my friend became more distant over time, and she eventually stopped talking to me altogether. To this day, I wonder if I made the right decision in telling her the truth. I wonder if we would still be friends had I not revealed this abominable secret to her. I regret the loss of our friendship, but I am not sure what I would do if faced with this difficult situation again.
I was an instructor at a tennis camp in Boston a few summers ago.
The last few weeks of the camp some of the senior counselors had to leave so the owners of the camp choose a few of the younger ones to take their roles.
I was chosen to take on some supervision roles I had not done before. My duties include assigning instructors for different groups, setting up weekend schedules and over all managing various co-workers and campers.
I was no longer one of the guys, but I felt I could "do the right thing" by being laid-back with my co-workers and not being a stickler for detail in their work. But I gave them an inch and they took a mile.
The work was basically shoddy and in a reminder sort of way I told them they needed to pick it up. But they didn't listen and some of the parents were upset enough to complain to the owners of the camp.
At this point the co-workers lost some pay over it as punishment from the owners. Some felt I had been too laid-back, and maybe I was. But if they had done their job in the first place there would have been no "fines."
In the end I realized when I changed "hats," I could not be one of the gang.
Sometimes it seems that parenting is the epitome of trying to do the right thing and things not necessarily turning out the way you had hoped! I do not watch much television, and I rarely go to the theater to see a movie. However, a few years ago I discovered that I really enjoy live theater, but I can’t afford to go as often as I’d like. So I started volunteering at the Rose Theater in Omaha, and I signed up my kids to volunteer too. In the beginning they volunteered reluctantly, but they did it. When my girls got to be teenagers, they informed me that they had outgrown the shows at the Rose, so I tried to be very careful which shows I signed them up for and which ones I worked with my youngest (a boy). I volunteer at every show (about once a month), and I take one or two or all three of my kids with me. Even though we continue to volunteer at the Rose, three years ago my teens and I became Ambassadors at Omaha Performing Arts (Holland Center and Orpheum). We are supposed to work about once a month there. It is good experience. Kids can learn a lot when they work with you. It also gives them something to put down on their honor society, job, and scholarship applications, etc. Even though we have a say in which shows we want to work and we have seen some awesome shows in the last three years (Lion King, Phantom of the Opera, Wicked), my teens still find reasons to grumble each and every time. I never got to go to the theater when I was growing up. I grew up in northwest Indiana, and we watched the Chicago television stations. I heard about all of these cool things going on in Chicago, but we never ever went. We had not seen Wicked until it was here last month. We ended up working Wicked four times. My oldest liked it from the beginning. It seemed to grow on my second (she had other things on her mind in May). Yet they still grumbled each time we went to work. (I liked it from the beginning, and I liked it more each time I saw it). I hope in the end, they all love the theater (& volunteering), but I don’t know when or if we will ever reach that happy ending!
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Last summer, I was in England for three weeks as part of a class I was taking at UNO for my minor in Political Science. There was altogether about 30 of us from UNO (as well as some from Chadron and another school whose name is eluding me at the moment), and there was one kid in our group who seemed like a bit of a loner and wasn't terribly popular. It was his first time in another country - mine, too - so I didn't think it would be right for him to feel so lonely in a new environment if he didn't have to. So, the second night we were at our base in London, I decided I'd be nice offer to take him out on the town for the evening. I told him I had to go to Euston Station to buy my train tickets for that weekend (I was going to spend a few days on my own in Manchester and Liverpool), but after that we could go do a bit of exploring.
He took me up on it, and after I got my tickets, we went around in a really nice part of North London called Islington - I'd never been to London, but I do have a few friends there, so I took their advice on places to go and things to see that weren't so tourist-trappy...if that's a word. Anyway, we went to see Arsenal FC's gorgeous new stadium, went to a couple of pubs, watched the UEFA Cup football (soccer) final on TV in the second one and went back to our hotel.
I thought I'd done the right thing in taking him out, but there wasn't much gratitude on his part in the beginning, and it only went down as the days went on. I realize that I'm probably not the biggest social butterfly in the world, either, but even if he'd never have thanked me in so many words, I would have have liked to have known on some level that he'd appreciated me spending time with him when few else in our group showed much interest in doing that. It's not one of those things where it's ruined me on trying to do the right thing(s) for others' sake, but I'd be lying if I told you it hadn't bothered me at the time.
Review (KLIATT)
Once again, Orca Soundings has provided a high-quality story for reluctant readers. This fast-paced, heart-thumping novel is about what it's like to get the chance to live someone else's life. Christopher Bent is a senior in high school whose family believes he is lazy and will not amount to anything. At school, things are hardly better, with Mr. Oxner looking for him to screw up once again and suspend him. But, all Chris has to do is get through a few more weeks of high school without getting himself in trouble. The one good thing is Alexa Doucette, who has recently shown some interest in him, though he cannot fathom why a girl of her status would want anything to do with him. And then he finds a wallet that changes everything: now he has access to a bank account loaded with money and a license that, with some hair dye, matches Chris's description. Although the temptation to do the right thing is there, it is this wallet that symbolizes what Chris wants for his life. What if creating a new life really is this easy? I.D. will appeal to most any upper middle school or high school boy because of its current-day theme and fast-paced action, packed into a short novel. A definite recommendation for reluctant readers.
I am the type of person who feels compelled to "do the right thing" mostly all of the time. However, I think many times it doesn't quite go the way I think it will. Many times I have had to say no to doing things my friends were doing. I often catch ridicule for the decisions I make, and am called "no fun". Contrary to those beliefs, I think I have a lot of fun, but I don't have to do things that go against my morals and beliefs to do so. Unfortunately, although you would think standing up for what is right would always make you happy, I have lost many "good" friends because of it. It makes me sad to think that friendships I thought were deeper than surface level crumbled when I stood up for what I believed was right.
Let me start off by saying that what I am about to tell you was a pretty serious matter. Because I feel that I must maintain a certain amount of confidentiality, and this could potentially follow me, I’m afraid that I have to be a little bit vague.
Every now and then the Omaha Police Department has what they refer to as “amnesty days.” What usually happens is that they set aside a day where you can turn in illegal weapons such as guns, illegal fireworks, etc. with no questions asked. Well, there was an incident that took place about 18 months ago where I felt I was doing the right thing. In fact I still believe that I was right.
A young acquaintance of mine had approached me a problem. He had what I will refer to simply as contraband and he was unsure how to get rid of it. He had taken it from his older brother who already had 2 strikes against him and he didn’t want to see him get his third. After all, the older brother had told his parents that he was trying to reform himself. I wasn’t completely sure what to do so I took the contraband from him and I said that I would take care of it.
Well, knowing that that the Omaha Police had these amnesty days (even though this day was not one of them) , I thought that I could just walk into the police department with what I had, tell them my story of why I was in possession of contraband, I would turn it over to them, and everything would be okay. Boy was I wrong. I was treated pretty much like I was an escaped felon. They slapped the bracelets on me and they proceeded with their interrogation as if I were a career criminal.
I calmly explained what had happened but they didn’t care. As far as they were concerned, I was dumping on a kid who wasn’t here to defend himself. I explained that I was just trying to help this boy and I was doing a good thing. The police told me that they don’t make the distinction between doing a good thing versus something bad, and I was lucky that that I didn’t get cited for contributing to the delinquency of a minor. They said they weren’t there to interpret the law, but only to enforce it. All the police knew was that I had something that I wasn’t supposed to have, and that has consequences.
As it turned out, I was able to fix the problem through a program that is similar to their diversion program, and all I had to do was 60 hours of community service. As a result, I was never formally charged, the case was dismissed, and there is no record of the incident except for the citation that I was issued. Like I said above, I feel that I was totally in the right. But if there is ever a next time, I will probably just take the contraband to the dump and dispose of it myself.
I’ve been wracking my brain for a while, trying to remember a time where I did something for someone and it turned out totally different than I expected. Once in college my friend Kari and I were babysitting our couple friend’s little boy, Evan. It seemed a little overkill to have two college students taking care of a two-year-old; all we had to do was feed him supper and play with him till his parents got home from a school event. Things were going fine and so after Kari, Evan and I all ate our supper, Kari took him into the living room to play. I decided that I would help out by washing the dishes that we had made and the rest of those in the sink. I am the oldest of five in my family, so I’ve done plenty of babysitting and part of the job had always been cleaning up after a meal. So I naturally thought I was doing Evan’s mom a favor. I knew she had had a busy week with being a nurse and going to school, so I was going to help her out. Especially since a few more friends were going to be coming to hang out once Evan’s parents got home. Perhaps I was a little over eager in my duties, because when Evan’s parents got home his mom flipped out and not in a good way. I hadn’t realized that I had been invading her space by washing the dishes that we hadn’t made. The rest of the evening was a little tense since both of our feelings ended up being slightly hurt. I had been embarrassed and regretted trying to help, but later I realized that it was the wrong way to “win” a friendship. We patched things up pretty quickly, but now I stop and think about how someone may react to my well intentioned gestures of help.
A few years ago I decided to move into an apartment with my roommate, Kelly, and two people that we worked with previously, Tyler and Bill. Tyler was new in town and I felt like since he was so excited about the idea that it was the right thing to do. Kelly was less than enthusiastic about it, but we had promised Tyler six months before and I wanted to stick to that promise. Finally, I convinced Kelly that things would be okay because our rent would go down over a hundred dollars. So we moved in during November, and immediately I knew it was the wrong choice. Kelly, whose mom was very sick at the time, was so angry about the illness and the moving situation that she only stayed at the apartment two nights a week. Bill was extremely rude and hypocritical, which is an accomplishment for someone who rarely set foot outside of his room. So, it was up to Tyler and I to pretend that our living situation was ideal. Then, in February a check bounced and our power was turned off. We had all given Tyler money to pay the bill, but I ended up being the one to call and charge it to my credit card. He explained that he had not had enough money to pay his portion of the bill, thus the rest of the money had not been enough to pay in full. I said it was okay and that he would just owe me the money. During the mean time, Tyler had bought a computer and a brand new car (without any warning) and I assumed that he had just forgot to budget. However, in April, Kelly came home to find a note on the door saying that part of our rent was not paid and that we would be evicted if it was not paid immediately. She called to investigate and found out that this had happened a total of three times, each one being Tyler’s fault. He had gotten to the previous notes (from other months) before we had seen them and managed to pay by taking out very high interest cash advances. Kelly and I covered the bill for him that very day and decided to give him a month to get it together. He owed us both about five hundred dollars. Well, Tyler never got it together and he ended up moving out in the middle of May. After that, things went down hill quickly. Our rent went back up and Kelly was under a lot of stress so our friendship crumbled (she blamed me for moving in the first place). Bill became even more reclusive and ended up moving out in September without giving us any warning. I did everything to avoid going home. In addition, I ended up in piles of debt because Tyler would not pay me back and I was pretty much living pay check to pay check before I bailed him out. Well, I moved out in December of 2007 (two months before the lease was up), and I am still getting caught up. Tyler did manage to pay me months later when I threatened to use my dad’s skills as an attorney to sue him. When I think back on that year of hell I cannot imagine why I put myself through so much drama just to keep a promise.
While walking home from school, in junior high, I saw a boy with Down Syndrome crossing the street. In the middle of the crosswalk he tripped and fell. I ran over to help him up, which I thought was the right thing to do. When I asked him if he needed help he yelled at me and said, “Go away.” I was very shocked by his reaction. Now that I think about it, he probably thought I was just helping him because of his specialty; however I would have helped anyone who fell down. My intentions were good, but ended in a terrible result. I felt kind of hurt by the boy’s response, but it still hasn’t deterred me from helping out complete strangers.
I have many episodes I could share for this response...I'm a "do-gooder" and proud of it...but sometimes things don't turn out like we hoped.
A student came to my office last summer and asked me to talk to and advocate for them with another faculty member in who's class they were not doing well and were, in their words, "being treated unfairly". I listened carefully to the student's story and decided I would at least inquire and get the professor's perspective of what was going on to see if I could provide some kind of support for the student. The faculty member was wonderful and gave me lots of good, documented information about the student's progress in his class. Unfortunately, it did not match, in any shape or form, the information given to me by the student.
When I called the student back in for a discussion, they admitted they'd left things out and had lied about the content in a couple of discussions. I was MORE than a little angry because I always try to give students the benefit of the doubt and have often successfully advocated for other students when they needed help or support. Needless to say - that student is no longer in the program and I am lucky that the faculty member was, and still is, a good friend of mine.
I still take my students at their word as I know this was an exception and not the rule - but I'm still left with a bad taste in my mouth about being set up for what could have been a tough situation.
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