No Brains, No Talent, No Service

My employers seldom fail to come up with interesting ways to exploit my meager collection of skills. Today's task was by far the most explicit reminder of my past life: I graded papers.

Now these were not just any papers. Mr. Employer is a proud member of the Rotary organization, and they award a reasonably-sized scholarship to a deserving student in the area who has demonstrated a commitment to community service. Students wishing to apply for this scholarship have to submit an essay explaining why they deserve it, and then the Rotary members are supposed to read these essays and rate which is the best. Well Mr. Employer/Delegator decided that I would be perfect for this task, so I was given roughly 24 essays on the subject of "Service Over Self."

The 17-18 year-old age group has a writing style with which I am intimately familiar, but it's been so long since I've been wrist deep in a steaming pile of essays that I'd forgotten just what terrible writers the vast majority of high school graduates are. But this wasn't simply an exercise in assessing their writing styles, so I turned my attention to the content and tried to see who could best write about the personal and social importance of community service. I'm hardly a noted humanitarian, so I felt like I was headed into difficult waters. These were seas best left to an expert navigator like Virgil, who essentially pioneered the service learning program in the English department down at Dub-V. I only got the briefest taste of that world, and I don't know how she chews on it every single day.

These kids have no concept of what community service means. As I said, I'm a terrible person with regards to helping others, but at least I know and understand the causes that I'm being completely callous towards. A surprising number of essays referred to community service as "burdensome" (in some cases that was the exact word used), and even though they quickly followed that with some variation of "but it was extremely rewarding," I couldn't help but sense that they felt forced to do the work. I may not be involved with any official organization, but I've occasionally decided to ignore my disdain for humanity and help others. While the work can be difficult, I always feel really good about it. Granted, part of that comes from my inner voices telling me what a great person I am for helping, but I like to think that some part of me enjoys seeing the impact that my work has on others.

The best parts of these essays were the moments where they tried to convey just how selfless they are. As I mentioned, the topic of the essay was "Service Over Self," so I suspect that these budding humanitarians were trying to squeeze every last drop of sincerity into explaining how they always put others over their own well-being. My favorite line has to be, "I always put myself last." I guffawed out loud at that one. Apparently someone needs to put Sally Selfless on the suicide watch list. Not only is that statement highly unlikely, but it also sounds like the person has the self-esteem of a grapefruit. Another fine young student said that helping to find a cure for cancer was one of the most rewarding experiences of his life. Of course, his contribution to the ongoing research involved selling candy bars when the proceeds went toward cancer research. I wouldn't award him the Nobel Prize just yet.

A few snowflakes really never seemed to grasp the concept of "volunteer" work. One gentleman said that while he got paid to be a lifeguard, his dedication to the job invoked the spirit of community service. I spoke to the Spirit of Community Service on my Ouija board, and he said you're a ball-bag. Yet another claimed that working at the hospital snack bar could be described as "helping the less fortunate."

I was not alone in my project. Mr. and Mrs. Employer have company this week, and they recruited two of the women to read essays as well. One of them couldn't have been more qualified - she's a professor of social work at the University of North Carolina and now works with the continuing education department. On the off chance that maybe I'd been away from students too long and was being too critical of their work (or maybe that I was just uninformed in the ways of service), I asked her what she thought of the essays. Her opinion of the essays made me look like the most understanding reader on the planet. I've never heard such sadness and despair (bordering on contempt and vitriol) for student writing. While there was clearly a winner in the pile (thus allowing us to successfully complete the task), she and I agreed that the whole process made us simultaneously fear for the future of community service and writing.

Sometimes I can't believe I want to get back into teaching, but then I read stuff like that, and I'm actually more committed to being a teacher (or more likely to be committed to an asylum), because SOMEBODY has to try to stop the pandemic spread of stupidity in high school essays. I mean, good gravy!! Some people actually have to read this shit!

Virgil, if I wore a hat, I would tip it in respect to your skills. I imagine you have to sit down with just about every one of your special little learners and say, "I'm sorry, darlin', but y'all can't consider helping grandma in the kitchen as community service."

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HIGH SCHOOLER WISDOM: "In these modern times, helping the less fortunate is very important." -- Because in the past, nobody ever needed help.