Morris’s parents enrolled him in a summer camp for high school students during most of June and July. The camp’s location near a mountain lake, with evergreen forest and towering peaks, was like a paradise. Morris enjoyed the cooler temperatures at the camp’s elevation while his parents and siblings sweated it out in the city.
What with canoeing, horseback riding, some group games and classes, and other activities, Morris had plenty to keep him occupied and having fun. The only part of being at camp that he didn’t really like was the weekly inspection.
Campers shared cabins clustered in various parts of camp, but each camper had his own room. The camp’s rules dictated that one of the staff members would conduct an inspection once per week. The staff claimed that having clean rooms would keep animals and bugs out. Morris was on the schedule for Tuesdays late in the morning. The first couple of weeks, Morris went along and made sure his room was straightened up, and the inspection went fine.
But the third week, Morris didn’t feel like doing much that morning, especially cleaning, so he doodled in his nature journal, and then he spent some time on a project weaving strips of leather together to make a cool wristband. He hadn’t been good about writing his family a letter, so he worked on that for a little while too.
He checked his watch then and saw he had only ten minutes before his inspection. The consequences of failing his inspection were not only having to miss out on whatever was going on afterward until he got it done, but he would be disqualified from the clay pigeon shooting activity that afternoon.
That sounded kind of fun. Morris jumped up and started cleaning the room, starting with making his bed. But suddenly he had to go to the bathroom. He had to be present when the staff member who did the inspections showed up, so he ran to the restroom down the hall. He had to wait for another guy to finish, and then he hurriedly did his business.
When he got back to his room, the inspector was already at his door, clipboard in hand. She waited for him to open his door.
Oh, no, thought Morris.
The inspection went about like he thought. He mumbled some excuses, but the inspector didn’t buy any of it. He winced at the pronouncement that he would need to stay and finish cleaning and then have to miss the rifle activity.
After taking care of his room, Morris wandered out to one of the public areas. He walked past three dudes who were sitting on a picnic table and talking. He overheard one of them say that someone named Owen in their cabin hadn’t cleaned his room, and the inspector had given him more time to get it done so he could still shoot clay pigeons.
“What??” exclaimed Morris. “That’s not fair! That’s against their own rules!”
He walked away, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Owen. Why did he get more time when Morris hadn’t? The more he dwelled on it, the more angry he became.
Finally, he stormed to the office and demanded to see the inspector. Fortunately, the woman was in the building. Morris was shown to her desk.
“What’s up with Owen?” he nearly yelled.
The inspector’s brow crinkled. “I’m not sure what you’re asking.”
“I heard that a kid named Owen gets to go shooting even though he didn’t pass his inspection. But I don’t get to. That’s completely unfair! You have to let me go shooting too!”
The inspector didn’t react—she sat casually in her chair and looked at Morris steadily for several moments.
“Why do you think you should have the consequences waived?” she asked.
“Because Owen—”
She held up a hand, and Morris stopped. “Sorry, let me adjust my question. Why, based on your own situation, do you think you should have the consequences waived?”
Morris blinked. Huh? “What do you mean?” he asked a little less loudly.
“The rules around room inspections were made clear to everyone at the beginning. It’s up to each individual whether to comply. General fairness lies in everyone getting a chance. You think what happened isn’t fair. I disagree.”
She held up a finger when Morris started to protest again. She went on, “You had a chance just like everyone else. You had time this morning to be ready for the inspection, but you chose not to be ready, is that right?”
Morris slumped a little and nodded.
“When the rules are set out and generally known, we have fairness at a broad level. But after that, I might determine fairness individually due to a number of factors. Owen experienced what I would call extenuating circumstances that prevented him from following the rules by no fault of his own. So I made an adjustment in his case.”
“What happened to him?” asked Morris.
“It’s not my place to say. But it is my place to decide to extend some mercy when it’s called for. Do I want everyone’s room cleaned every week? Yes. Do I want it regardless of all other circumstances? No.” She leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees and clasping her hands together. “I favor fairness as much as the next person. But I also believe that in some cases, I should offer better than what’s generally fair or what’s strictly deserved.”
Morris nodded, feeling dejected. But he couldn’t really argue that he deserved to go—he had chosen not to be ready for the inspection, so he had brought his own consequences on himself.
Later in the day, he overheard someone saying that a relative of Owen’s had passed away, and he’d had to attend a funeral that morning. Morris instantly felt guilty for taking judgment into his own hands. He stopped begrudging Owen his opportunity to shoot clay pigeons that day.
Morris decided then and there that next Tuesday and every Tuesday after, he’d take advantage of his chances to pass the room inspections so he wouldn’t have to miss any other fun activities.
Photo by Victoria Rain on Pexels.com
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