All's Fair?

Am I a socialist? No, I don’t believe I am. I still don’t think everyone should get the same if they don’t make some sort of effort. Any effort made, for which you are capable of making. There are too many in our culture, who simply stand around with their hand out only, making no effort to contribute. They simply take and take. They are physically capable of doing something, but choose not to. I don’t believe they should continue to receive everything gratis. And then there are those, who, despite every obstacle, struggle to rise above those obstacles. They make every effort and more to try. Often it is a daily struggle. I believe they deserve more. However, right then I was not concerned with the rest of society, just my class. And now, I was in trouble for doing something I shouldn’t have, again. Stealing. At the word ‘stolen’ just uttered by Mr Walsh, I knew that many repercussions would follow. One of the worst, I thought would be the physical punishment I would be getting from my father. I was wrong. This was part of the lesson I was to learn from this circumstance.

“ ‘E….’ and ‘K…’ are not happy then are they?” Mr Walsh continued. He indicated where they were sitting down below us in the shaded area, finishing off the ice block they had received. They did not appear as happy as the other children admittedly. “You took the money, didn’t you, Mr Dwyer?” Mr Walsh asked. Well, he didn’t really ask. It was a statement. Rather than an actual question, but, I still felt the need to answer. “Yes, Mr Walsh” I replied. He moved away from the window and gestured me to sit down. I went to my seat. He looked at me. I looked at him for a moment. I was embarrassed. I was disappointed in myself. I looked down at my desk somewhat ashamed. The feeling of excitement I had experienced when I handed out the ice blocks to all the other children was disappearing already. There was the underlying edge of pleasure at having got ‘E’ and ‘K’ to pay for all the ice blocks, after the way they had treated all the other children. There was that.

But now, there were the consequences to be faced. I sat there at my desk and faced Mr Walsh. Wondering what the sequence would be. Would I be made an example of? Would Mr Walsh punish me in front of all the class. Using me as an example of what happens when you do the wrong thing. No doubt I would have to publicly apologise to ‘E’ and ‘K’ in front of everyone. That would be embarrassing. That would have repercussions for the rest of the year. I would be labelled a thief (the fact that I was is not missed by me). The worst of labels when amongst others. It meant that trust would never exist. I would not be trusted by any of the students, teachers or, once the story was told to parents, other adults. I would never be trusted by my parents again. If I survived the probable punishment from my father.

(Continued tomorrow)