Last Friday I asked members of the University College to express some of the things that drive me crazy. As a new employee at NCCU and the UC, I was encouraged when I saw that no one responded to the prompt "The University College would be a better place if people would stop..." In fact, the overall response to the prompts that directly dealt with work were fairly small. People definitely don't like the temperature issues we have in the Alexander-Dunn Building, but aside from that your co-workers simply asked that people help each other out more and communicate.
Among other trends I noticed that many of the comments dealt with the Golden Rule-being willing to accept others, practice forgiveness, not put people down, not stealing [And after the lunch and laptop thief that's a good one], and basically treating others as you would want to be treated. Wouldn't it be nice if we all, staff and students, approached our lives this way? How much better would the world be if we offered solutions instead of just complaining, share information, stopped using bad language, and simply did the right thing?
We have no power outside of ourselves, but even that can be enough. Doing the right thing can make us feel good and more appreciative of our fellow human beings. Each of us can decide for ourselves what we want that to look like. It can be as simple as letting the person with only a few items standing behind you in the grocery line move ahead. Or we can take on more complex roles with volunteer organizations. No matter what we choose to do, we can work at making our little corner of the world that much better.
My first year of teaching, back in 2001, I was working in a rather small and poor school district making $20,000 a year. (In Ohio each school sets it's own teachers' salary and benefits based on the amount of tax money that comes in, so small, rural districts didn't pay very much. To put it in perspective, that was approximately $21,000 less per year than the typical female wage earner at the time.) I had just gotten married, and my husband was still in school. Because the district was fairly rural, there were no part-time jobs available for him, so my income was all we had. That Christmas we hand-made Buckeyes (a chocolate and peanut butter candy) and cookies because we couldn't afford to buy gifts. On the last day of school before Christmas vacation, I came home tired and discouraged. I knew I was facing a bleak night ahead in the dark (we used candles to save on electricity) eating Ramen noodles with hopefully a chicken breast. As I got the mail I saw that one Christmas card had no return address and a "postage due" stamp. While the amount was fairly insignificant, less than one dollar, it was a very depressing moment. I opened the card expecting to see a generic message from a local restaurant or insurance agency. To my surprise there were several gift cards enclosed and a note saying that the senders knew things were tough and they wanted to help us out. The only repayment was the request that someday we "pay it forward." Now I knew it must have come from my mentor and the other teaching staff. No one else knew what kind of shape we were in, but of course they never said. I was so grateful and promised that someday I would do something for someone else.
It took several years before we had the opportunity, but since that Christmas I have been able to do just that. I have sent money anonymously to different people over the years, but it's more than just buying a gift card and sticking it in the mail. The people I worked with didn't have much themselves. We were all struggling. The salaries in that district were quite low compared to the rest of the state. The possibility of a teachers' strike was looming. It was a rough time for everyone. What really made that gift matter wasn't the money, although we did appreciate their sacrifice, it was the fact that despite the depressing circumstances my co-workers were thinking of people other than themselves. That has stuck with me for the last ten years.
I can't say that I have always been the best at noticing when others were in need. Sometimes, especially the last couple of years, my own pain overwhelmed my ability to do anything but get through the day. But even in my lowest times, I remember that card and the people who so generously followed the Golden Rule. My
circumstances have greatly changed since that December and even just since my most recent Christmas. And I am trying to remember to do the right thing on a regular basis. In 1916, Lily Hardy Hammond wrote, "You don't pay love back; you pay it forward." Wouldn't it be a wonderful world if we all lived to pay it forward? I think I'll start by sharing my popcorn with Mr. Coleman!
