A Busybody's Guide to Improving the World by Brigid Daull Brockway

A Busybody's Guide to Improving the World by Brigid Daull Brockway http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=18799392 I believe in sticking my nose into other people's business. When I was a teenager, a man I knew killed his son and himself. On the TV news the neighbors were shocked that something like this would happen here, and they had no idea the family was in such trouble. It was a lie. We all knew what that man did to his kids. We told ourselves it was none of our business, and now we were lying because we were complicit in a child's death. We'd seen the bruises on the children and did nothing. We'd seen the way he talked to them and said nothing. And so when the TV cameras came along, we told them we saw nothing. I helped kill that kid, like everyone else, in the name of minding my own business. Martin Luther King Jr. said, "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere." I'm no Martin Luther King, but his call to action is as relevant now as it was then, and I know that the only way I can atone for that child's death is to butt in, even when it's unpopular, even when I'm not in the mood to fill out a police report or get screamed down by an abusive parent in the grocery store. I've done those things, but I used to do them a lot more when I lived in the rough neighborhoods where I grew up, and when I worked at tough jobs. There was a wrong to be righted or a person to help around every corner. But then, I got a regular job. Now I live in the suburbs and work in a cubicle, and there are no great moral decisions under my nose. The other day, I finally got around to reading the stack of bulk mail from charities that has been piling on the kitchen table. I was confronted with countless organizations wanting me to help children who are victims of war, neglect and abuse around the world — all of it seemed so overwhelming. And it made me want to do nothing more than just sit on the couch and watch reality TV. But Dr. King's words keep ringing back to me. As much as I may dislike my role as busybody, I think I'm really not nosey enough. I'm worried about saving the kids up the block, but what about kids around the world whose lives are in danger because I'm not sticking my nose in their business? I know it's time to get off the couch and start butting in more. It begins with writing this essay and with holding myself accountable to my ideals. I believe it's time I started sticking my nose not just in the business of my neighbors, but in the business of the world. I'm not eager to be chastised for my nosiness, but I know a little boy who died because no one likes a busybody. I believe I've got no right to make others suffer for my lack of conviction. (Word Count: 506)

Accomplishing Big Things In Small Pieces by William Wissemann http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php? storyId=94566019 I carry a Rubik's Cube in my backpack. Solving it quickly is a terrific conversation starter and surprisingly impressive to girls. I've been asked to solve the cube on the New York City subway, at a track meet in Westchester and at a café in Paris. I usually ask people to try it first. They turn the cube over in their hands, half-heartedly they make a few moves and then sheepishly hand it back. They don't even know where to begin. That's exactly what it was like for me to learn how to read. Letters and words were scrambled and out of sequence. Nothing made sense because I'm dyslexic. Solving the Rubik's Cube has made me believe that sometimes you have to take a few steps back to move forward. This was a mirror of my own life when I had to leave public school after the fourth grade. It's embarrassing to admit, but I still couldn't consistently spell my full name correctly. As a fifth-grader at a new school that specialized in what's called language-processing disorder, I had to start over. Memorizing symbols for letters, I learned the pieces of the puzzle of language, the phonemes that make up words. I spent the next four years learning how to learn and finding strategies that allowed me to return to my district's high school with the ability to communicate my ideas and express my intelligence. It took me four weeks to teach myself to solve the cube — the same amount of time it took the inventor, Erno Rubik. Now, I can easily solve the 3x3x3, and the the 4x4x4, and the Professor's Cube, the 5x5x5. I discovered that just before it's solved, a problem can look like a mess, and then suddenly you can find the solution. I believe that progress comes in unexpected leaps. Early in my Rubik's career, I became so frustrated that I took the cube apart and rebuilt it. I believe that sometimes you have to look deeper and in unexpected places to find answers. I noticed that I can talk or focus on other things and still solve the cube. There must be an independent part of my brain at work, able to process information. The Rubik's Cube taught me that to accomplish something big, it helps to break it down into small pieces. I learned that it's important to spend a lot of time thinking, to try to find connections and patterns. I believe that there are surprises around the corner. And, that the Rubik's Cube and I, we are more than the sum of our parts. Like a difficult text or sometimes like life itself, the Rubik's Cube can be a frustrating puzzle. So I carry one in my backpack as a reminder that I can attain my goals, no matter what obstacles I face. And did I mention that being able to solve the cube is surprisingly impressive to girls? (Word Count: 489) Finding Equality Through Logic by Yvette Doss http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=93192093 I believe that you can take control of your destiny through the power of philosophy. The turning point for me was the day I learned that the questions I had about religion, morals, inequality and injustice in the world were not only acceptable questions, but questions to be encouraged. Great minds—like Plato and Descartes—had spent countless hours pondering life's mysteries throughout the ages. I realized that my mind, the mind of a misfit half-Mexican teenage girl living in an immigrant neighborhood in L.A., could ponder those mysteries, too. The fact that my best friend dropped out of school at age 16 to have a baby, or that few of my neighbors had college educations, did not exclude me from the conversation of the ages. I believe the act of philosophical thinking is not the exclusive domain of the privileged, the moneyed, the old or the accomplished. I lived in a household run by a single mother, and I moved around from neighborhood to neighborhood, from new school to new school. There were gangs, crime and substandard schools to contend with in my pocket of southeast Los Angeles. I struggled with finding my place in a world that, though imperfect, was the closest thing I had to home. But I had big questions on my mind, too. Did my challenging circumstances mean that I should only think about the difficulty of day-to-day existence? Why couldn't I wonder about the larger questions in life, like, "Why are we here? Does it have to be this way? What if there isn't a God?" And most importantly: "Was I destined to accept my lot in life just because I was born with fewer advantages than those luckier than I?" The crisp pages of the books I cracked open each night and read until I fell asleep with a flashlight tucked under my arm told me otherwise. "The unexamined life is not worth living," Socrates said. "Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains," said Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Simone de Beauvoir shared: "I tore myself away from the safe comfort of certainties through my love for the truth; and the truth rewarded me." Descartes and Hume validated my questioning of dogmatic religious belief. I was connected to the larger world of ideas through the simple act of opening those books. Thanks to philosophers, my new friends, I considered my thoughts worth expressing. And later, when I tried my hand at writing, I experienced the joy of seeing my thoughts fill a page. I believe the wisdom of the ages helped me see beyond my station in life, helped me imagine a world in which I mattered. Philosophy gave me permission to use my mind and the inspiration to aim high in my goals for myself. Philosophy allowed me to dare to imagine a world in which man can reason his way to justice, women can choose their life's course, and the poor can lift themselves out of the gutter. Philosophy taught me that logic makes equals of us all. (Word Count: 510)

Be Cool to the Pizza Dude by Sarah Adams http://thisibelieve.org/essay/23/ If I have one operating philosophy about life it is this: “Be cool to the pizza delivery dude; it’s good luck.” Four principles guide the pizza dude philosophy. Principle 1: Coolness to the pizza delivery dude is a practice in humility and forgiveness. I let him cut me off in traffic, let him safely hit the exit ramp from the left lane, let him forget to use his blinker without extending any of my digits out the window or towards my horn because there should be one moment in my harried life when a car may encroach or cut off or pass and I let it go. Sometimes when I have become so certain of my ownership of my lane, daring anyone to challenge me, the pizza dude speeds by me in his rusted Chevette. His pizza light atop his car glowing like a beacon reminds me to check myself as I flow through the world. After all, the dude is delivering pizza to young and old, families and singletons, gays and straights, blacks, whites and browns, rich and poor, vegetarians and meat lovers alike. As he journeys, I give safe passage, practice restraint, show courtesy, and contain my anger. Principle 2: Coolness to the pizza delivery dude is a practice in empathy. Let’s face it: We’ve all taken jobs just to have a job because some money is better than none. I’ve held an assortment of these jobs and was grateful for the paycheck that meant I didn’t have to share my Cheerios with my cats. In the big pizza wheel of life, sometimes you’re the hot bubbly cheese and sometimes you’re the burnt crust. It’s good to remember the fickle spinning of that wheel. Principle 3: Coolness to the pizza delivery dude is a practice in honor and it reminds me to honor honest work. Let me tell you something about these dudes: They never took over a company and, as CEO, artificially inflated the value of the stock and cashed out their own shares, bringing the company to the brink of bankruptcy, resulting in 20,000 people losing their jobs while the CEO builds a home the size of a luxury hotel. Rather, the dudes sleep the sleep of the just. Principle 4: Coolness to the pizza delivery dude is a practice in equality. My measurement as a human being, my worth, is the pride I take in performing my job — any job — and the respect with which I treat others. I am the equal of the world not because of the car I drive, the size of the TV I own, the weight I can bench press, or the calculus equations I can solve. I am the equal to all I meet because of the kindness in my heart. And it all starts here — with the pizza delivery dude. Tip him well, friends and brethren, for that which you bestow freely and willingly will bring you all the happy luck that a grateful universe knows how to return. (Word Count: 501)