Andrew Rogers

Prof. Coleman

College Writing 1

10/8/08

Unchanged Hearts

Some people cried. I was only somewhat impressed. It was a cold February night at

Hilliard Davidson High School. Melanie, a talented friend of mine, had planned a large benefit

concert/recital for the Invisible Children foundation. There was an orchestra, there were dancers,

and there was even a short film made by a student at the school. All the performers put on an

excellent show, and for this I was quite grateful; however, as the night came to a close it was

clear to me what was happening.

Emotions were running high. I looked around the brick auditorium. It was filled to

capacity with sobbing soccer moms, sympathetic men, and sentimental students. All were

moved by the sounds and sights of the concert. After the music had stopped, one of my fellow

students excitedly moved towards the microphone. Though he was trying to preserve the somber

canopy that now covered the crowd, his quickened gestures and hasty movements caught me off

guard. He began to tell the tale of a young African boy who had survived kidnapping, torture,

and other such atrocities; the student then began to tell us of how this organization called the

Invisible Children had helped to educate him and re-assimilate him into society. He finished his

story with another glimmer of hope.

“These children,” he said, “we can help them. If you want to change the world around

you, please believe in this cause. Donate whatever you can.”

Wanting to hear the reaction of those in the room, I turned my head to listen and watch.

People around me were exuberant—each talking to someone else about how they wanted to

donate or get involved in the club that would soon be forming around this issue. These were the

kids who stuck a freshman in a lacrosse locker for two hours; these were the kids who tear others

to pieces behind their backs; these were the kids who trick others into doing the stupidest things

purely for their own enjoyment. From these kids, this sudden burst of altruism seemed too good

to be true. Many of these people I had known for years of my life, and to speak blatantly, they

didn’t give a shit about some poor African boy who was forced to kill his family and friends.

This became more and more apparent as time elapsed. Weeks later, none of these kids

remembered that night for any other reason than to brag about how much they gave or to show

their benevolence on some scholarship essay. It disgusted me to see that the work that had been

put into that night was all for not.

Years later, will anyone remember the “altruistic” acts of a few well to do teens? This

night was only one event, one point in time when their thoughts were brought to someone other

than themselves. I am in no way implying that an act of charity out of a self-centered heart is not

going to help someone somewhere; however, it will never change the world. The attitude of the

youths, who had been in the crowd, remained selfish. They continue to look for ways to make

their actions that night work for them. The good natured club that had been started on night

quickly disintegrated, very few of their initial members ever came to a meeting. No change

comes out of an unchanged heart.