From 15
The Unfair Party
A father has two sons. The younger one won't wait and asks for his share of the money right now. He leaves, spends it all, and ends up with nothing. Eventually he's working among the pigs and is so hungry he wants to eat their food.
He decides to go back, and practises his apology along the way.
But his father sees him coming from far away. So he'd been watching. He runs to him, and a party breaks out. Music, food, everything.
The oldest son is out in the field. He hears the music, hears what's going on, and refuses to go inside. All these years, he says, I've worked here. And I've never had a party.
Then the father goes outside too. Towards him.
What the oldest son did next isn't written down.
For today
Does this sound familiar?
Your little brother breaks something and gets a hug. You got told off last week for something much smaller. You don't say anything about it, but something settles inside you.
Or this: someone who did nothing all year for the group project gets exactly the same compliments at the presentation as you, who put in three whole evenings.
In moments like that, you're the older brother. You haven't done anything wrong — that's exactly the point. You did everything right and it feels like nobody noticed.
That's a lonely kind of angry.
Be happy for him? No thanks. I'll give him a party he'll never forget!
Take a look in the mirror:
- When did you feel like nobody saw that you were doing the right thing?
- When were you the one who got the party without earning it?
- What would you want to hear if you were standing outside while the music started up inside?
Mirror line
I'd love to say I didn't mind about the party, but I've learned it's fine to be jealous of a party — as long as you actually say so out loud sometime.
From 4
The Clever Question
It's the middle of the day and blazing hot. is tired from walking and sits down by a well.
A woman comes to fetch water. That's odd, because no one fetches water in the hottest part of the day. She's probably coming at exactly that time because there's no one else around.
And then something happens that really isn't supposed to happen. He asks her for something. *Give me a drink.*
That sounds small, but it isn't. She belongs to the wrong people, she's alone, and really he should be pretending not to see her. Instead he asks her for help — because she has the bucket and he doesn't.
They get talking. It becomes the longest conversation of his recorded in the whole book. And afterwards she goes and tells the entire town.
For today
Does this sound familiar?
There's someone in your class you never talk to. Not because you have anything against him. It just never happened, and by now it would feel strange to start.
If you want to be kind, you usually think of giving. You ask if he wants to join in. That's meant kindly, but it also says: I'm inside, you're outside, and I'm letting you in.
There's something that works better, and it's even easier. Ask him something. Whether you can borrow his eraser. Whether he knows how to beat that one level.
Asking for something turns the other person, for a moment, into the one who gets to help.
Start a conversation? Far too much effort. I'll just never look that way at all!
Take a look in the mirror:
- Who in your class have you actually never talked to? How come?
- What could you ask that person, instead of giving them something?
- When were you the one who got asked to join in? How did that feel?
Mirror line
I'd love to just never look, but I've learned you don't have to be mean to someone to still never really see him.
From 8
Who Dares Throw the First Stone?
A large group of people comes along, pushing a woman ahead of them. She's done something forbidden, and by the rules of that time she can be stoned for it.
They put her in the middle of the circle. Everyone can see her. And then they ask : so, what do you think?
He says nothing. He bends down and writes something in the sand with his finger. What he wrote isn't recorded. Nobody knows.
They keep pressing him. Then he stands up and says one sentence: whichever of you has never done anything wrong may throw the first stone.
And then he bends down again, and keeps writing.
It goes quiet. And one by one they walk away. The oldest ones first.
For today
Does this sound familiar?
Someone starts talking about a classmate on the playground. A second comment follows. Then a third, with a nasty joke on top. Within two minutes almost everyone's joined in.
You say something too. Not the worst thing — you're smarter, you say something funny. Everyone laughs. That feels good.
That night in bed you think about it again. On your own, without all that laughter around it, your little sentence suddenly sounds very different.
The strange thing about a group is that no one feels responsible. Everyone thinks: I only did a small bit. Added up, it wasn't a small bit at all.
Can't quite manage a throw? Just say so. Hand over the biggest stone you've got!
Take a look in the mirror:
- What was the last thing you passed on about someone, when you could just as easily have kept it to yourself?
- What does someone know about you that you'd rather not have repeated all over the playground?
- Who could stop you when things go too far? And who could you stop?
Mirror line
I'd love to say I only said that one joke, but I've learned a group never makes you feel responsible — even when you were.
