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.
As I continued, the responses grew more shocking: girls trying to offer their half-eaten sandwich to my container--or my personal favorite reply, "I need this money for Starbucks after school."
I understand that many people believe that America is the one country where you can make any dream come true, so no one should ever struggle. However, even if down to the deepest part of your soul, you believe it to be true that neither homeless people, nor the shelters, deserve any help, then please explain that to the young children who have to live with a parent who may have a drug or alcohol problem and are thus finding themselves homeless by pure bad luck.
Many forget that being homeless is not always a permanent way of life, either.
Due to the recession,
I guess many don't understand the types of situations that can occur in life, until they have actually experienced such a change of circumstances themselves.
Although it will be a while before the harsh words and the flicker of faces shouting at me are erased from my memory, I was pleased that we continued our collection efforts and, fortunately, found most of our peers to be quite generous.
My only wish is that others will realize not everyone is born with a silver spoon in his mouth or parents that will do anything for him. I feel as though my peers should step outside of their comfort zone and realize that the almost perfect, taken-for-granted lives they live aren't what everyone else wakes up to also.
Hopefully, since the giving season is approaching, people will change their ways during this time of year, and have a bit more heart.
It took a few talks with my humanities teacher and a couple of hugs from my mom to make me realize that sometimes people just act the way they do for no reason at all, other than for immaturity and to cause a riot. And that not everyone is going to think like me or agree with me or see the world as I do.
I'm working to become OK with that.
Stephanie Boscovitch is a senior