While interviewing with Teach for America, I professed great passion for social justice. I sought the proper balance of humility and pride as I spoke of spending each of my college spring breaks on volunteer trips. I believed in these ideals as I discussed them, and I hope that I still do.
But the evidence is piling up against me. I’m living in a poor country, yet I avoid looking too closely at the terrible poverty and suffering that afflict Ecuador. I’ve hardened myself to the unbelievably dirty street children who want to shine my running shoes or sell me gum. On the way to work, I intentionally avoid looking at the dilapidated houses on our route. I keep my nose in a book, preferring to think about the problems of fictional characters than those of the ageless, hunched-over woman peddling fruit between the lanes at streetlights.
I spent hours this weekend reading my students’ “diaries.” I adore these kids, but their entries often revealed the extent of their privilege. They eat at Ecuador’s best restaurants. They call chauffeurs to pick them up from the movies. They travel to other countries just to see concerts. I should also mention, however, that some students wrote deeply empathetic, nearly tear-inducing entries about Haiti. Reading both types of entries, I felt guilty. Guilty on one hand for being part and parcel to such exclusivity. And guilty again for being unable to muster such heartfelt, innocent sadness about the tragedy in Haiti.
Luckily, in the midst of these attacks of conscience, I opened the diary of the candy-obsessed student I wrote about last entry. True to form, he nicknamed his diary “potato” and spent one entry describing the different colored lollipops he won at tennis practice. He also included a biography on the back, referring to himself as an “Ecuatorian” writer with a “stress full but good life.” This calmed me down somehow. It reminded me that, on balance, I’m still doing a good thing by teaching these kids.
Posted by craigsaslow 








