Make a Difference
Wed., April 21, 02:01 PM
USA Weekend published its “Make A Difference Day Awards” last week. No matter how uplifting these stories are, they always leave me a little depressed. The projects are way beyond my scope. And they often remind me of what I wanted to do, what I meant to do…but didn’t. The road to Hell is paved with good intentions. But then there was “Paul.”
The Red Cross is a volunteer organization, one that is supposed to have a greater number of volunteers in comparison to its “career staff,” who – in theory, at least – are just there to instruct and provide a certain sense of continuity. The problem with finding volunteer office help is that, if they didn’t get bored and quit, they eventually developed sufficient skill to leave us and go into paying jobs. Certainly that was a good service to provide, even if it did leave the career staff always scrabbling to get things done.
Around that time, the Area Cooperative Educational Service asked us to undertake the training of a mildly retarded young man. Paul lived with a roommate in their own apartment, where they paid the bills, did the chores, shopped for groceries and did their own cooking. He had even attempted to take a few courses at the community college, although he didn’t do to well there.
I wish I could tell you that, despite his disability, Paul was a friendly and likable young man. He wasn’t. He was loud and whiny and often butted into other people’s conversations. His counselor admitted that his social skills probably held him back more than being mentally challenged.
So we accepted the challenge. (Mostly it was me, because I didn’t do any field work. I made sure my boss added “supervision” to my job description.) Paul learned to alphabetize records, to make copies, and run errands. He also learned about coming in on time and being polite to his fellow workers. I don’t think anyone really learned to like him, but he did what he was told.
Then he was informed by the State that, if he wanted to continue receiving his government stipend, he would have to supplement it by finding a paying job. So Paul left us too, and I was back to training workfare clients, community service offenders, and mental health patients trying to work their way back into the community. Most of them had more basic skills than Paul but were harder to train to do the work at hand.
Fast forward about ten years. I was in the hospital, miserably ill and just wanting to be left alone. Someone had sent me flowers. The messenger verified my name and put the vase on my bedside table. I thanked him, but he didn’t leave. Instead a whiny voice said, “I think I know you.” Yes, it was Paul. He had been working for the hospital messenger service for some time. He said, “Remember how you taught me to keep my statistics every day instead of waiting till the end of the month? I keep my statistics that way now, and everyone is surprised when I’m always the first one finished.”
Well, how about that! He’s not the only person I ever taught something. But in his case I accomplished it – not cheerfully or even consciously, just by doing my job. It’s my reminder, you never know when you can Make a Difference.
