Kicking Off A Year of Idealism

People who refuse to believe that something can’t be done are unstoppable. I’m going to see sixty-three of them today, and I’m inspired just thinking about it. They are forsaking money, prestige—and, I might add, their own personal sense of fashion—to take a road less traveled. Often working the hours of an analyst at an investment bank for a stipend just above the poverty line, there are 1,500 young adults nationwide committing to serve their communities and its students. Who are they? City Year corps members.

I can’t help but be excited for them—a year ago, I was in their boots. And I know their lives are going to be changed. During my year, I co-led the Young Heroes team, a team that worked with middle school students who devoted their Saturdays to doing community service. At the end-of-the-year Heroes Graduation Ceremony, one of my Young Heroes read a poem he wrote about what it means to be a volunteer. It was a poem about self-sacrifice, and hard work. He stood on the stage of a large auditorium, in front of team leaders, parents and his peers, and with the confidence, timing, and eloquence of someone far beyond his years, he told us what it meant to be a volunteer. I had goose bumps. When he finished I leapt to my feet, bursting with pride and joy. He inspires me.

After most of the families had gone and we were finishing cleaning up, we saw a woman with a problem: she had run over a large rock, and her car was now perched on top of it. Lodged in front of a rear wheel, it was so large that the back of the car was off the ground, and the point of the rock jutted up into the underbelly of her SUV. It was late—we had had a long day, but we were determined to help. We tried and tried to move the rock—a helpful parent even tried to tow it out with his car, but the tough rope he used just snapped from the strain. But we weren’t to be beaten. With a jack to get a bit of gravity on our side, some strategic planning, and a cry of “1-2-3!” we picked up the car, and lifted it off the rock. As the woman gratefully thanked us she asked, "So who are you guys? What is City Year?" We felt like superheroes.

Most of the year didn’t feel that way. Most of the year was tough—so tough—and thankless. I cried more in that year than I usually do in five or six. Some days just getting out of bed felt impossible. But in the mornings I found strength as we said the City Year pledge: it reminded me of what I believed in—of what I was there to do. It’s the same pledge that I’ll watch them take today:

"I pledge to serve as a City Year member
to the very best of my ability,
to honor the rules and expectations of City Year,
to respect my colleagues and the people and
communities we serve,
to provide excellent service,
to lead by example and be a role model to children,
to celebrate the diversity of people, ideas and
cultures around me,
to serve with an open heart and an open mind,
to be quick to help and slow to judge,
to do my best to make a difference in the lives of others,

and to build a stronger community, nation and world,
for all of us."

To those courageous people that today are pledging a year of their lives to service: you are a hero. And you can do anything. So go out there and do it.