Our Staff Needs Some More R-E-S-P-E-C-T
by Hody Nemes
Opinions Editor
Mark Twain once said, "I have never let my schooling interfere with my education." Clearly, Twain had never seen John Burroughs School. I am so grateful for six years at this unique institution, for all I have learned here, inside and outside the classroom. I marvel at the education we receive at this school. But JBS still has flaws. Most of them, I think, boil down to respect and appreciation. That idea may sound preachy (after all, this is a rant), but I think it actually applies.
We should start with the environment. From keeping the Commons clean to recycling plastic to commuting by public transit, JBS must respect the fragility of our local and global environment. We must embrace the legacy of our naturalist namesake; we should make John Burroughs proud.
From a social standpoint, we really need to respect and appreciate our classmates more. This respect is especially lacking in the younger grades, where there is a massive social pecking order that arises in each class (I was the plankton). In older grades, this food chain dissolves into different groups separated by a cold respect (at least, that is what happened in our class). But cold respect is not enough. We need appreciation—for all our classmates. Let's make the Commons a welcoming place for everyone.
In the first World ever published (October 1928), the editors wrote: "In the following issues we hope to publish short biographies of the entire faculty." Though eighty years have passed, the newspaper should continue to feature a faculty or staff member in every issue. Particularly in the case of JBS staff, we don't show our gratitude often enough. Do we know the names of the business and development staff who keep the school running? Have we ever said thank you to the kitchen and plant operations staff who cook our meals, clean our bathrooms, and maintain the beautiful campus we know and love? As I mentioned in a previous editorial, at last year's graduation I glimpsed the customary procession of teachers into Graduation Grove. Around the same time, I noticed a longtime member of the kitchen staff pushing a cart towards the buffet tables on Dr. Shahan's lawn. The contrast in these images was striking. I really believe that all veteran staff members should appear alongside the faculty at graduation. I also think we should give all maintenance, kitchen, and grounds staff the option of being called by their last names. Why do we offer this honor to the deserving teachers and members of the Business and Development offices, yet withhold it from the people engaged in the physical operation of our school?
Now these two issues—recognizing staff at graduation and calling them all by last names—may seem like trivialities. But these are not trivial issues. Graduation is the one time and place where we convene the JBS community with some measure of solemnity; it represents a truly holy moment within the Burroughs year. What we do in this moment, whom we honor, and how we act carries an added weight, an extra meaning. To recognize the JBS staff in this forum would set a high and admirable tone for the rest of the year. And as for the importance of names—your name is the place-marker of your identity in the world. When addressing an elder as Mr., Ms., or Mrs., you show them a token of respect, however old-fashioned, by merely pronouncing their name. If we do not offer even this modicum of respect to the people at our school engaged in physical labor, we risk descending into the age-old trap of white-collar elitism and undercutting the vein of tolerance that pulses so strongly through this school.
Burroughs is a tolerant place. I have personally felt this tolerance these past few years. Because I wear a yarmulke, I look different than my peers, and that is not always easy. But Burroughs students have not been disrespectful or treated me abnormally, and I do not think that would necessarily be the case at other schools. Certainly as an institution, Burroughs welcomes and respects different cultures, religions, and even sexual orientations. But the student body sometimes lapses into discriminatory speech. Last spring, during a particularly offensive week, I wrote down the comments floating around the halls. That was the week of the excruciatingly embarrassing German Exchange assembly. Student leaders set a tone for the school, so they must eliminate crude joking at the podium (and we have to respect assembly speakers; chatting or heckling destroys assembly's magic). To prove that point, that same week, I heard students making derogatory jokes, calling people obscene names for homosexuals, and lightheartedly performing the Nazi salute. And over the years, I have heard a few jokes (which is far too many) about Jews, some told by friends, some by other Jews. When I explain how hurtful such comments are, I am greeted either by surprise or a "just relax, man." But I'm not about to "relax."
As a Jew, I have admittedly been more alert to flippantly anti-Semitic remarks than to other discriminatory comments. Perhaps overcoming our collective intolerance requires that we make ourselves aware of all such comments, not just the comments about us. Perhaps overcoming this intolerance requires that we embrace a higher level of empathy, that we envision ourselves as blacks, or gays, or Muslims, or women, or "nerds," or whoever is different from us at this school, whoever is friendless, and imagine how such jokes would make them feel.
There is an old parable about the scholar Hillel, who is approached by an unlearned man. The man says, "Teach me the whole Torah while I stand on one foot." Hillel responds, "Do not do unto others what is hateful to you. This is the whole Torah, the rest is commentary; now go and learn." I think we must all learn this empathy if we are to make our great school an even greater one. We must treat each other--students, faculty, and especially staff--with the respect each deserves. We must jettison the grammar of intolerance from our humor and our conversation. We must treat our school and our environment as if they, too, were our fellows; we must learn to love our neighbor as ourselves. Only then, when we have lent a new tone to the tenor of our interactions, when we have learned to carry ourselves with respect and tolerance, only then will we be able to finally step into the classroom, to fully take advantage of the fruits this school has to offer, to truly "go and learn."