Humble Pie

Don't you just love those moments when you feel like a total jerk? I had one of those yesterday...a serious slice of humble pie.

There is a girl (I will call her Susan) that asked me to edit one of her school papers for her. Let me begin by saying that I don't mind doing this for people at all - in fact I rather enjoy it. The task appeals to my nerdier side. When Susan asked, however, I was a little put out. It is hard for me to describe why. Because of a couple events that had happened a few months earlier, I felt like I was being taken advantage of. Now that I think about it, I could've just let those things roll off and they really wouldn't have been a big deal, but, I didn't, and all of this was still simmering inside of me when she asked. I agreed to take a look at her paper and get it back to her by the day she asked.

When she e-mailed me the paper, I approached it rather cynically. The more I read, the harder it was for me to let go of my mounting frustration. The paper was riddled with errors that made it seem like she hadn't even read through the paper once herself. There were problems with most, if not all, of the internal citations. Many of the paragraphs were disjointed, jumping from one topic to another. In short, there were so many different levels to be worked on that, after two hours, I threw up my hands, typed out two pages of suggestions, and then gave her the recommendation of taking the paper to the Writing Center to work on the paper with someone in person. (I am such a brat!)

I didn't hear from her again after I sent over my comments, and I'm embarrassed to admit I really didn't think too much about it. Then, a couple days ago, Joe ran into Susan and she mentioned she wanted to come over and drop something off. I'm not sure why, but when Joe told me I assumed that it was going to be another paper or something. My compassionate Joe looked at me and said, "Just be patient with her Jenn."

Then, last night Susan stopped by while I was nursing Clara. Joe answered the door and I heard him talking with her for a few minutes. When I heard the front door close, Joe walked in with a card in his hand, and said, "She got an A- on the paper, and wanted you to have this to say thank you." The card was a gift card with a substantial amount on it.

I feel ridiculous for several reasons. 1) Sharing your writing with someone can be a scary thing, especially when it is on a topic that you feel really passionate about. She'd come to me for help and I'd let my emotions get in the way of producing a good effort for her; yet, she'd graciously and gratefully accepted what I'd offered, as menial as it was. 2) It took me getting something out of it to feel sorry for the way I'd treated her!

I am still amazed at how selfish and childish I acted. I never want to treat someone like that again. Yes, I was doing a service; but what good is a service if it doesn't change our hearts? What good is it if we do it begrudgingly? Service needs to change us, to movtivate us to be better, without thought of how it could come back around. It was a truly humbling moment, the kind I hope I never forget.