One of my favorite lessons is to give students a hypothetical situation in which they have to make a hard choice, then continually tweak the situation to force them to more fully approach and consider their own morality. Part of why I like it is because students have a hard time letting go of their assumptions that every choice they make is the right one, and also they end up making a lot of agonized and shocked sounds, which is hilarious.
Real life moral choices are much less dramatic than the Trolley Problem I explore with my students. They're less visible, less defined, and less satisfying. Maybe it's because I've sort of landed on a mental hiccup in which I think anything that I genuinely want to do and enjoy doing is inherently the wrong thing, but I feel like I've made the idea of suffering as my barometer for the rightness of a choice. If I really don't want to do the thing, then that's how I assume it's the best option. I can't admit that I'm happy with that belief. It basically pushes against hedonism in so many ways that it becomes its own perverse pleasure, and I'm fairly certain that's not a healthy thing. (It also means that I've become expert at feeling guilty--and even shame--at my decisions, even if they are 'good' choices, if I enjoy or am happy to do whatever it may be.) And in no area of my life is this difficulty more apparent than with my calling in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. See, I'm a Webelos leader, spending an hour each Wednesday night with a bunch of rambunctious 10 year olds who would rather be most anywhere else and try to get them to 1) stop being a**holes to each other for five seconds, and 2) advance them through the program so that there's progress on their behalf for the monthly Pack Meeting. I really don't like it. When they first asked me, nearly a year and a half back, if I would be willing to help out, I told them that I have philosophical problems with the BSA and I didn't think I would be a good fit. They insisted. I really, really didn't want to say yes. So, of course, I did. (If I don't want to do it, that means doing it is the right thing, you see?) I was a part of the program long enough that I was somewhat versed in the responsibilities by the time my oldest, Puck, showed up. As I mentioned in the footnote of the link, he hates going to Scouts. While he's trying to put on a brave face and reduce his amount of complaining, it's abundantly clear that he is unhappy being there. Part of it is the other kids: They don't understand his sense of humor, they don't go to school with him (my boys go to a school closer to my work than my home), and they have interests that rarely intersect with his own. Part of it is Puck: He refuses to control his flatulence, and that never makes you friends; he is loud when he's bored, meaning he'll shout out weird ideas and things, thinking it's funny but really it's not; or he sits and pouts, hoping that they'll take pity on him and include him or be nice to him. The whole thing is the proof of the idea that "kids can be cruel", and I subject him to it every week. Because I'm in Webelos, and so is Puck, we get to spend the evening together. That is the nicest part. But the evening usually involves me barking at most of the kids to stop whatever it is they're doing (often it's bumping up against the "that'll likely lead to property damage" red line). Puck uses my distraction to wander away or do something else instead of the activity. He doesn't want to be there much worse than I, and that's what leads to my conundrum: Should I stop sending him to Scouts? The crux of the difficulty is that I can't shake my anti-hedonistic philosophy for determining the moral rightness of an action. Deep down, I feel like that weekly suffering must be the right thing, and I want my son to do the right thing. For that to be consistent and not hypocritical, I have to do the right thing. As it stands, Puck isn't willing to progress into the next phase of Cub Scouting when he turns eleven later this spring. He doesn't want to attend any meetings if I'm not the leader. If I weren't the leader now, he wouldn't go, I don't think. So, what do I do? Let him have his way in the much-maligned "entitlement" throes that gives late Gen-Xers and Baby Boomers so much heartburn? Realize that this is a real problem and forcing him will likely exacerbate his enmity with the program and, possibly, his parents (who insisted he go), or the Church (which expected him to attend)? Let go of my anti-hedonistic philosophy and rethink the process of choosing what's right? Support my Church calling or support my son? That last one is the real doozy. I don't think there's a morally right thing about attending Scouts per se. Instead, it's the idea that I've been asked to do a particular thing, I've agreed to do it, so now it's incumbent on me to fulfill my end of the agreement. But part of my calling is to help Webelos Scouts to progress, including Puck. Not only that, but the expectation in the Church is that, when asked to help or participate, one helps or participates. Puck has been asked to participate, so he should. But compelling him to do so is completely counter to the fundamental teachings of the Church*. I remember that my mom, when confronted with my antipathy toward the program, encouraged me to find the fun parts that I did enjoy and appreciate, but know that I would have to do the less enjoyable aspects at some point. It probably won't come as much of a surprise to learn that I didn't ever do those less enjoyable parts. I couldn't be bothered, and by the time I "needed" to take care of the less savory merit badges, it was clear that I was completely uninterested in earning higher ranks (maybe because I hadn't learned the work ethic needed to do something hard?) and an Eagle Scout rank was never in the cards. I'm trying a similar tact on Puck, asking him to select an adventure that he might be interested in trying out, something to make him--if only marginally--more keen on Wednesday nights. So far, he hasn't bothered to look for anything. And maybe it's the wrong thing to do. But maybe it isn't. Maybe it'll work well for him and he'll have some positive memories of the whole thing. I don't know. That's the whole problem with this situation: It's a conundrum. --- * As a doctrinal Cliff Notes, one of the things that Mormons believe really firmly is that God doesn't force people to do things. While there could be plenty of room to dive into that, the basic premise is that God's plan is to show people the right way to live and then let them decide; Satan's plan is to force people to do what Satan wants them to do. In other words, there's a strong anti-compulsion sentiment in a church that is filled with expectations that are so strong they almost feel compulsory. Let it be known, I am not a fan of the Boy Scouts of America.
Some of it is personal: My experience with the program was one of forced effort ("Go to this camp out! It'll be fun!" (Narrator: It was not fun.)) or spending time with kids who either a) didn't recognize I existed, or b) found me as a target for their bullying. In the worst case scenarios, I joined in with the bullies to pick on the kid who was homeschooled and, therefore, "the weird one". On one level, I got to vent some of my frustration that I suffered through onto someone else. On a retrospective level, I regret my behavior and I feel nothing but shame for how I treated a peer. Some of my disdain for the BSA is institutional: The hoopla about including transgender kids, gay leaders, and girls is asinine to me for the simple reason that I don't see why people are clamoring to get in to a program that I spent most of my youth hoping to get out of. Okay, so that's still a personal point. Institutionally, it has long irked me that the phrase "morally straight" would be read so narrowly as to make grounds for sexual orientation-based discrimination. One of the points there comes out of the fact that a closeted kid would be openly accepted, but an open kid would be treated with distrust and suspicion. And the idea that someone would have to lie about what he felt in terms of attraction and lifestyle simply to "fit in" with a bunch of stinky boys in the woods is absurd to me. Some of my dislike for the BSA is religious: in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, American members of the male persuasion are assigned a troop and pack and automatically enrolled in the Cub Scouts when they turn eight. They move through the program, which has been an integral part of the way the Church runs its youth structure. The thing is, BSA is not LDS, and though the BSA gives a lot of leeway and special exceptions to the LDS Church, it's long rubbed me the wrong way to have, for lack of a better word, an outsourced program that's supposed to be a part of my religious observance. Attendance to Scouts (already established as a less-than positive thing for me) was mandatory, not because it was Scouts, but because it was the Church. Nevertheless, hanging out with a bunch of stinky boys in the woods is not a particularly spiritual experience. Swearing, dirty jokes, fighting, bullying, and sex talk (guesses may be more accurate) are the topics du jour of any scouting activity, to say nothing of the fact that one is outside (gross), which some people find helps them commune with Nature and Nature's God, but I'm not one of those people, being the kind of reclusive person that I am. So I was pretty happy with the recent call by the BSA to let girls into the program, as it seems like a step the organization needs to take in order to remain buoyant once the Church fully extricates itself--a move that's very likely coming down the pipeline in the near future. Not only was the gendered exclusion been a bone I've picked with the BSA (yeah, I know; it's in their name that they're the Boy Scouts, but names can change), but in general, it makes sense to allow a system that has (not in my case) helped countless numbers of boys over the years to expand its sphere of positive influence. Again, I'm not on the same wavelength as others on this topic, so there may be some fundamental "manly" thing that Scouting is supposed to inculcate, but if so, I didn't get it, and I know I'm not alone on that front. If that's all hogwash, then there isn't really an argument to be had for further exclusion.* Then I asked a friend about what she thought of the change, and she surprised me when she said it disappointed her. She was upset, not because girls would be a part of the BSA, but because of what it'll do to the Girl Scouts. The two entities are separate, and though Girl Scouts aren't embraced in Utah (the Church sees it as a liberal, activist entity--mostly, if I remember correctly, because of the stance on abortion--and so the Girl Scouts don't get a lot of play), the Girl Scouts are a fantastic organization for girls like my friend who got a lot out of her involvement in her youth. That made me recalculate what I was celebrating here, because her perspective helped me to realize that, while a more Church-focused youth program for my young boys will be superior (in my mind) to the BSA, the consequence of the change in policy will likely destroy the Girl Scouts brand. How it'll shake out remains to be seen, but there are a couple of possibilities that strike me: One, the BSA absorbs the Girl Scouts' numbers to a large degree, leaving the latter a shell of its former self; two, the BSA is rather rejected, and the influx of girls doesn't really offset the loss of the LDS support, causing the BSA to downsize until it's a shell of its former self; three, an equilibrium is struck among the three youth entities of the LDS Church, the BSA, and the Girl Scouts. The point isn't that I'm necessarily rejoicing at the possible end of BSA--though I kind of am--because I recognize that the program, despite my reservations, has helped millions of boys throughout the century since its importation from England. While I view the whole thing as anachronistic, I have personal acquaintances whose lives have been permanently and positively changed by virtue of being a part of the Boy Scouts of America. Losing that--or even seeing it drastically change--must be difficult, and I can commiserate and sympathize with those who are feeling perplexed or confused by what's going on. I'm not one of them. Though, because of my sons**, I'm still mildly involved with the Cub Scouts, I'm out of Scouting. And I'm okay with saying that makes me glad. --- * I'm sure there's some handwringing because of the "problem" of overnight camping, but if that's the largest argument, then the answer is simple: Don't camp out with both genders. Separate camps, separate trips. No trips. Like, there are plenty of ways around it. In fact, all-girl packs are allowed within the new rules, too, so there are options. And if camping out is the only thing that you think Scouting does, then maybe you should join a troop. ** My son is a Cub Scout right now, and he hates it. Once he's there and things get moving along, he cheers up, but Scouting is far from an interesting thing to him. He'd rather sit at home and read a comic than put on the stiff blue shirt and bike to the church for an hour-long meeting. I can't say I blame him. |
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