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IADORE my humanities teacher. So when she decided to have the humanities club collect money for the homeless shelter, I volunteered with my best friend, who is pretty much a carbon copy of me.

I knew that we would pursue this endeavor with great enthusiasm. In my mind, my best friend and I would go up to tables and say, "Hey guys, want to donate money to the homeless shelter?"

In return, all of the children would take out a few pieces of change and drop it in with a smile--or maybe a few would explain how they didn't have money, but wished that they did.

The end of lunch would come, I would feel satisfied, my best friend and I had made tons of money, and all would be well for humanity.

However, if my life were that perfect, I'd probably be on an island right now drinking sweet tea and not sitting barefoot at my desk, recalling on such a tragic event.

Once the third lunch bell rang, we walked with our empty cup toward the cafeteria. All of our peers' smiling faces seemed to be glowing, waiting to just drop their loose change, spare dollars, into our most- prized possession.

Quickly, though, reality set in and I remembered that I wasn't dealing with normal human beings, but peer-pressured high school students.

As we approached one of the tables, all of the children stared at my friend and me, making remarks such as "Who cares about the homeless?" and "They can get a job."

These seemed like juvenile, "I heard my mother say this once" kind of answers, so I tried to brush them off and remember that they were silly and were probably just seeking attention due to the lack of love they received at home (which, evilly enough, gave me quite some comfort).

Not knowing what to expect, next we approached a table of boys only with cautious optimism.

"No way! They are just going to spend it on crack!" replied the group leader at the table. The rest of his crew all began to nod and shout, "Yeah! What he said!" If I hadn't had put my glasses on before pausing my journey at the table, I would have thought they were all beating their chests and marching, too.