May, 2003

Their fresh faces shine from the photograph taken in the Saturday dawn--the early hours of Easter weekend.  Eight smart, pretty, gregarious Harding freshman girls, caught in that moment after their summons by the Marion police back to the scene of their overnight romp.  After reciting the charges they could have faced, the officer instructed the girls (and the parent who’d driven them around) to clean up the toilet paper they’d spent the better part of the night applying to every tree in the yard.  Not to mention the shaving cream “Happy Easter” message on the garage, the soapy likeness of Scruffy the dog in the driveway and several dozen plastic eggs mixed into the mélange.  As toilet papering goes, it was masterful.  More than a few neighbors commented on the stunning display.  “Awesome.”

I would expect nothing less from this crowd.  Whatever they do, they do well.  Among them are dancers, band members, volleyball and softball players, cheerleaders, singers.  And when it comes to “innocent” vandalism, I can vouch for the fact that they approach this task with the same vigor they apply to everything else they do.

As I spent all day Saturday and part of Easter Sunday extracting paper from the high branches before impending rain made a bigger mess, I pondered the dynamics of what had happened.  Why would these bright and promising kids do what they did?  No doubt, to attract attention and get the goat of their classmate (my son). 

But, as I thought more about it, I flashed back to the other bright and shining faces I’d seen recently, on TV.  Faces watching a house burn near the OSU campus--sorority girls remembering their sisters killed in that fire.  And I shuddered as it struck me that those girls, the ones on TV, could be our girls--the ones in my yard cleaning up the mess they’d made.  Wasn’t it the same fun-loving team spirit, the same group instinct to lose oneself in the clan that led one set of young people to my house armed with cases of toilet paper and another to a house near campus where the party was on and the beer flowed freely? 

The desire to belong, to be part of something larger--to be a team, is, I think, part of the human condition.  We are social creatures.  We group together--in churches, in cities, in tribes, in clubs, in armies, and in teams.  What coach hasn’t said, “There is no ‘I’ in team?”  The point is well taken.  Teams can, collectively, do more than any single individual can do on his or her own.  Individualism yields to the group's identity.  Who could forget the outstanding teams of recent vintage?  The 2002 Buckeye football squad comes to mind.  Few real stars.  Maurice Clarett was injured half the season.  But collectively, they were a machine, players stepping in and out of the gaps to get the job done, week in, week out, culminating in a finale unmatched for excitement.  It was teamwork at its best.

There are times though, when individuals need to step away from the group--when team spirit should give way to individual morality.  Part of the maturation process is learning to discern those times--to know when camaraderie crosses the threshold to mob behavior.  It takes guts to walk away as the crowd moves from celebration to inebriation to conflagration.

 A T.P. job isn’t a campus riot--yet.  But 150 rolls gets a bit closer.  It was funny the first time it happened.  But this was the fourth or fifth.  The humor was bought at the price of my freedom.  My Easter weekend plans didn’t include spending a day and a half fishing streamers out of trees.  So, girls, I figure you owe me.  The penance I ask is that you put your team spirit toward more productive pursuits.  Step away from the crowd when it starts moving in a direction you wouldn’t go on your own.  Imagine the impact you could have if, collectively, you took your youth and your talents to Kingston, for example, to sing for the residents--or to Oakland, Olney or Silver Street schools to help second and third graders learn to read.