Returning to school is a strange thing. An unmistakable scent of possibility lingers for a few days, filling the space usually occupied by looming assignments. There are many ceremonies: buying fresh notebooks, half-recognizing people – you should know that occasion.
As I climbed back in to my routine, I restarted one of my favorite habits – picking up a complimentary copy of the New York Times. Though I seem to glean headlines throughout the day, it seems even 15 minutes of newspaper reading pays enormous dividends. I then began thinking about the thousands of dollars that go into providing these newspapers (and our new Express Card vending machines).
I wondered why Loyola provides its students with these newspapers. When asking myself questions, I usually begin to establish rapport.
“To keep us informed about all the horrible things going in the world,” I replied wryly. “Darfur, Sudan, Iraq, Iran, Syria, Lebanon, Israel, Palestine, North Korea …”
“But how does that relate to our education here?” I pressed, looking for specifics.
“Well we’re learning to think critically and act justly. Haven’t you seen the Web site? Or the T-shirts? The world could use a little justice nowadays.”
We could use some social justice, especially in New Orleans. I don’t think anyone is opposed to justice. And Loyola’s shiny, new Quality Enhancement Plan certainly reinforces these Jesuit ideals. I just get this uneasy feeling that once we get beyond the service learning, leadership training and guest seminars that there is something missing.
I think the “something” is results.
I understand that we can’t be expected to help solve international crises while completing our degrees. But there is plenty in our own backyards that remains to be done.
Last January we returned from a semester that challenged our school and civic communities in ways never imagined. It challenged us personally as well, calling us to look for the strength to continue living boldly in the shadow of a disaster that could very well reoccur.
And last January, I was proud of the way Loyola responded. There was a sense of responsibility manifested in our volunteering and aid. I felt like our motto had ceased to be a cliché and was part of our university.
The immediate response proved short lived. Now that we’ve begun to celebrate our trivial ceremonies again, it seems like they’ve come at the expense of an outward gaze. We’ve found comfort in our return to normalcy, but I fear we’ve forgotten that we are among the most fortunate in New Orleans. Not everyone shares our comfort.
A “full-time” student is in class about 13 hours per week. That translates into only one month of 40 hour work weeks per semester. If students are in class for one month a semester, can’t we afford a few hours of helping others once in a while?
So while I sharpen pencils and make awkward small talk this semester, I’ll also try to donate some time to those who need it. I hope you’ll join me in remembering that not everyone has a place like Loyola to come back to.
