So, I am currently trying to figure out how to post a long piece of writing without showing it all on the page at once. For anyone familiar with LiveJournal, I am dearly missing the tag. Since Blogger doesn't seem to give me the option of putting a long chunk of text behind a cut, I am going to wait until version 2.0 of my website is up and running and host it from there.

I was reading my friend Matt Fowler's blog today, and there was one entry in particular that interested me. Matt is doing a year of service for Mission Year, so we will really benefit from sharing our experiences with each other.

His third entry really struck me because it reflects an attitude I encounter all too often. When I first committed myself to this idea of year-long service to my fellow people, I expected my friends and family to meet me with enthusiasm and support. I was not at all prepared to come up against deeply ingrained societal values that said I should be pursuing a 'real' career, that my intelligence and capability obligated me to achieve conventional success.

Now when I describe my job to people, I feel like it sounds broad enough and difficult enough that it demands a certain level of respect. When I say I helped to write three successful, $65,000 grants and I work in an inner-city school every day, I can prove that I am serious about this.

Still, though, there is this American idea that skill and determination should be compensated monetarily, that I should be chasing the kind of success that will be universally appealing. That isn't what I'm about. My friends and family have come around and more or less appreciate and admire what I am doing, but sometimes when I tell new people what I am doing I still encounter this word:

why?

And, well, why? It's not a question I can answer for everyone. I can't answer it for everyone not because I don't have a strong enough "why," but because there are realities out there not everyone can accept. I don't feel I can blame them. After all, it is so easy to look away, and so hard to believe we have the power to change anything. But I need to, and I do believe it, even if the only change I make this year is for the roughly 250 kids that are going to walk through the doors of my school tomorrow.