A College Senior Learns a Lesson in Humility
Jimmy Steele tried to concentrate on his assignment in literature, but he might as well have been downstairs in the basement of the Senior Dorm shooting pool with fellow students.
The way he played pool didn't require focusing.
With him it was hit-or-miss-and that's all he wanted: relaxation, companionship.
His eyes kept moving toward the letter on his desk, where his roommate Charles had tossed it after reading the contents.
The sheet kept drawing his thoughts back like a magnet.
It wasn't what the message said ("Dear Charles: Please come to my office Thursday at noon for an important conference regardless of your schedule.
Signed by the Dean of Men"); it was an association he was making.
His stomach tightened up into a steel ball.
The telephone down the hall shrilled.
Since everybody else expected somebody else to answer the phone, no one did, and it rang persistently at regular, nerve-racking intervals.
"Damn!" Jimmy yelled finally.
"Why doesn't someone get that phone!" "What the hell is wrong with you answering it!" shouted someone from across the hall.
"Let the damned thing ring then!" Jimmy yelled back.
To himself he mumbled: "Why don't they hire someone to answer that thing and take messages! Every 10 minutes it rings!" He glanced impatiently at the assignment he had tried in vain to read.
Swearing again, he slammed the book shut.
"Hell, I can't read this story now!" He strode across the dorm room, out into the hall.
His mouth and throat felt dry and parched.
Going to the water fountain, he let a cold spout of water refresh him.
A clock above the fountain read 11 o'clock.
In 45 minutes he had an appointment in the office of the Dean of Student Welfare-some more damned problem about the budget for next year's campus magazine.
As elected editor he should be thinking about what he was going to offer as defense.
He could see no way to cut the budget any further.
As it was, the magazine staff would be operating without any margin.
But he couldn't get his mind on the meeting from thinking about the letter Charles had received.
When Charles had shown it to him and remarked, "Now, I wonder what the hell's this about?" Jimmy had stared thoughtfully at the letter, then asked when he had received it.
"Tuesday morning," Charles had answered.
Today was Thursday.
"When I was tapped into the local leadership honor society," Jimmy ruminated, "I got a letter like this.
It was just a way of getting us together without letting out the fact that they were going to tap-a surprise, you know.
" "What-Then you think-" "No, it's not the local society," Jimmy interrupted.
"We're using a different system this time.
" Observing the anxious, puzzled look on Charles' face, he smiled and assured him, "Oh, you made it.
I don't guess it hurts for a guy to tell his own roommate he has been chosen!" Charles grinned.
"But back to that letter," Jimmy said.
"I think it's the Suwannee Circle of Omicron Delta Kappa; I've a hunch they're going to tap today at noon.
" ODK was a national leadership society.
"I thought Frank said it would be three weeks yet," Charles observed.
"Besides, I don't think I have the grades.
" Frank was an ODK member.
"He may have been trying to throw us off track," I suggested.
Charles shrugged then asked, "Did you get a letter like this?" Jimmy shook his head.
Word had circulated that only 10 individuals were being inducted into the national leadership society.
Jimmy was worried.
That was a small number to be tapped.
He kept telling himself that he didn't care, that that kind of thing meant nothing in the end.
Yet he knew he was kidding himself; he wanted to be tapped into the coveted ODK.
Although he was a member of the local leadership honorary society, of Who's Who in American Colleges and Universities, editor of the campus magazine, and a senior, Jimmy believed Charles, a college junior, might stand a better chance of being among the lucky ten.
He had recently been elected as editor the campus newspaper for next year.
That was one of the most important student offices on campus; he had been very active in other affairs at the university, too.
Now it was Thursday morning, forty-five minutes before noon.
If ODK was tapping today, then it was apparent that Jimmy Steele wasn't going to make it.
The one top honor he wanted so much was going to elude him.
Sure, he had the grades, but there were others who had the scholastic average, too-15.
Maybe-but he stopped in mid thought and shook his head stubbornly: He was in that five who didn't make the list.
Also, he hadn't received a letter like Charles'-or any other hint for that matter-that he was to be somewhere at noon.
The psychology major who roomed next door would get a big laugh out of him-Jimmy Steele-huddled in his room sweating with anxiety over whether he was in line to win another campus honor.
"You wheels," he had sneered on several occasions, "worrying over who's the biggest wheel here, scared as a kid out Trick or Treating that someone else will get an award that you don't!" He was in his late twenties, a veteran of the controversial war in Iraq, coldly realistic and cynical.
"They ought to put you guys out on the front line, facing an enemy with guns; then you would really have something to worry about.
" Why should they have to put you on the front line, facing an enemy with a gun? War.
That was why, because human beings were continually insisting that their way was the right and only way, refusing to permit others to live their way-which, by just the merest chance, could be a right way, too.
And what was wrong with coveting awards and other honors? One didn't receive them unless one met the standards-real, indiscriminate criteria-Then Jimmy caught himself: He acknowledged that too many times such honors were set up as the goal and everything else was simply a series of rungs in the ladder leading to that goal, instead of each being an end-a value-in itself.
Hell, why did he have to be so philosophical? He glanced at the clock on the desk.
Eleven-thirty.
He pulled on his trousers, remembering that he had to go by the magazine office for his budget folder to take to the Dean of Welfare's office.
He met redhaired Ted Dobson, student body president, on his way out of the dormitory and his suspicions grew.
Ted wore a white dress shirt and tie.
As they hurried across campus, Jimmy remarked: "I hear ODK is tapping today, Ted.
" If Jimmy had expected a reply, he received none.
Ted continued to look straight ahead, no expression on his face.
Finally he said, "You've done a terrific job with the campus mag this year, buddy.
" "Thanks," Jimmy responded gratefully.
He eyed Dobson furtively.
In the alumni building they ran into Al Douglas, blond, charismatic president of ODK.
He, too, sported a white shirt and tie.
Now there remained little doubt in Jimmy's mind about the society tapping today.
His mood collapsed like a suddenly deflated raft.
He wasn't to be one of the chosen ten.
He felt like crying; then he laughed.
"What the hell-the way I'm reacting you'd think it was a matter of life and death.
" Oddly his thoughts jumped to Peggy Miller, his sophomore sister and girlfriend.
If he had been tapped into ODK, she would have been very happy because she wanted above all for him to be happy.
If he wasn't selected, she would lessen the hurt and disappointment in her usually soothing way.
She would make the failure seem the most insignificant thing in the world.
For a few moments Jimmy felt sentimental, as she always made him feel when he thought of her, or was with her.
"It isn't what you have, but what you are, that really counts," he could hear her saying now.
The thought of her mellifluous voice made him suddenly feel weak.
Once she had told him, "I want a notable in heart-not in name.
" As Jimmy passed the Registrar's office, he spied Charles staring out one of the registrar windows.
"I'm checking on my grade average," he volunteered.
"Do you have it-what you need to be tapped?" Jimmy asked.
"Yeah-just barely," Charles sighed with relief.
"Do you think they will tap today?" "I'm almost certain today's the day," Jimmy said glumly.
He walked upstairs to the Dean of Welfare's office.
His secretary, Mrs.
Forbes, smiled when Jimmy strolled in.
Bill Meyers, student chairman of the Men's Judiciary, sat in a cushioned gold chair next to the door into the Dean's inner office.
"Please have a seat, Jimmy," she offered.
"Dr.
Waddell is in conference, but he will be with you in a few minutes.
" She had a pleasant smile that set Jimmy at ease.
He sat down next to Bill, who was staring thoughtfully at the beige carpet "What time do you have an appointment?" Jimmy asked the dark-haired, studious judiciary officer.
"It was scheduled for 11:45, but the Dean's running late.
" "As usual.
My appointment was at 11:45, too.
I wonder how publications and judiciary can fit into the same meeting?" Bill shrugged.
"I honestly don't know why I've been called in here," he commented, running his hand through curly chestnut hair.
"I've been checking back on all the sins I might have committed against the administration," he chuckled.
"So far I've come up with zilch.
" At that moment the Dean of Men, a wiry, baldheaded man with a friendly smile, emerged from Dean Waddell's office.
"Don't you boys go away," he greeted them casually.
He walked out of the room.
Jimmy glanced down the hall and saw some men in black graduation gowns-ODK members probably, dressed for the ceremony.
He felt sick-It was adolescent to let such a thing gnaw so tauntingly at him, but he was unable to accept philosophically the fact that he had been snubbed.
He thought it was hurt pride more than anything.
He turned to Bill.
"Why doesn't Dr.
Waddell hurry with that meeting!" he grunted.
The president of the senior class, Pete Landon, stuck his head through the hallway door.
He was tall, muscular, and had a perpetual leer on his face.
"Hey, Jimmy-Bill," he greeted the two seniors.
"Have you seen Wiley?" Wiley was chairman of the Class Day committee.
Both Jimmy and Bill said they hadn't seen him.
Jimmy stood up and strolled over to Landon.
"Are you being tapped into ODK?" he asked.
"I don't know anything about it," he said, and walked away.
So the president of the senior class wasn't being tapped either.
Well, there were only ten being tapped.
The Dean of Men reappeared, grinning.
"This gets worse by the minute, doesn't it?" he chuckled.
"You young men come with me.
" Bill and Jimmy glanced questioningly at each other.
As they hesitated, Dean Waddell, white-haired and distinguished, came out of his office smiling and beckoned them to follow him.
He led them out into the hall, where Charles fell in stride beside Jimmy.
"What's up?" Jimmy asked, not breaking stride; but he thought he knew the answer.
His heart began to beat a drum roll as they stepped out in front of the administration building.
Seeing Al Douglas, Ted Dobson, and other ODK members-all solemn and dignified in their caps and gowns-he swelled with emotion.
"We're being tapped into Omicron Delta Kappa," Charles grinned widely.
Maybe it wasn't so important-not like a lot of things-but just now it rated a strong second in Jimmy's life, he thought.
The first? His steady girl friend.
Wish you were here, Peg!
The way he played pool didn't require focusing.
With him it was hit-or-miss-and that's all he wanted: relaxation, companionship.
His eyes kept moving toward the letter on his desk, where his roommate Charles had tossed it after reading the contents.
The sheet kept drawing his thoughts back like a magnet.
It wasn't what the message said ("Dear Charles: Please come to my office Thursday at noon for an important conference regardless of your schedule.
Signed by the Dean of Men"); it was an association he was making.
His stomach tightened up into a steel ball.
The telephone down the hall shrilled.
Since everybody else expected somebody else to answer the phone, no one did, and it rang persistently at regular, nerve-racking intervals.
"Damn!" Jimmy yelled finally.
"Why doesn't someone get that phone!" "What the hell is wrong with you answering it!" shouted someone from across the hall.
"Let the damned thing ring then!" Jimmy yelled back.
To himself he mumbled: "Why don't they hire someone to answer that thing and take messages! Every 10 minutes it rings!" He glanced impatiently at the assignment he had tried in vain to read.
Swearing again, he slammed the book shut.
"Hell, I can't read this story now!" He strode across the dorm room, out into the hall.
His mouth and throat felt dry and parched.
Going to the water fountain, he let a cold spout of water refresh him.
A clock above the fountain read 11 o'clock.
In 45 minutes he had an appointment in the office of the Dean of Student Welfare-some more damned problem about the budget for next year's campus magazine.
As elected editor he should be thinking about what he was going to offer as defense.
He could see no way to cut the budget any further.
As it was, the magazine staff would be operating without any margin.
But he couldn't get his mind on the meeting from thinking about the letter Charles had received.
When Charles had shown it to him and remarked, "Now, I wonder what the hell's this about?" Jimmy had stared thoughtfully at the letter, then asked when he had received it.
"Tuesday morning," Charles had answered.
Today was Thursday.
"When I was tapped into the local leadership honor society," Jimmy ruminated, "I got a letter like this.
It was just a way of getting us together without letting out the fact that they were going to tap-a surprise, you know.
" "What-Then you think-" "No, it's not the local society," Jimmy interrupted.
"We're using a different system this time.
" Observing the anxious, puzzled look on Charles' face, he smiled and assured him, "Oh, you made it.
I don't guess it hurts for a guy to tell his own roommate he has been chosen!" Charles grinned.
"But back to that letter," Jimmy said.
"I think it's the Suwannee Circle of Omicron Delta Kappa; I've a hunch they're going to tap today at noon.
" ODK was a national leadership society.
"I thought Frank said it would be three weeks yet," Charles observed.
"Besides, I don't think I have the grades.
" Frank was an ODK member.
"He may have been trying to throw us off track," I suggested.
Charles shrugged then asked, "Did you get a letter like this?" Jimmy shook his head.
Word had circulated that only 10 individuals were being inducted into the national leadership society.
Jimmy was worried.
That was a small number to be tapped.
He kept telling himself that he didn't care, that that kind of thing meant nothing in the end.
Yet he knew he was kidding himself; he wanted to be tapped into the coveted ODK.
Although he was a member of the local leadership honorary society, of Who's Who in American Colleges and Universities, editor of the campus magazine, and a senior, Jimmy believed Charles, a college junior, might stand a better chance of being among the lucky ten.
He had recently been elected as editor the campus newspaper for next year.
That was one of the most important student offices on campus; he had been very active in other affairs at the university, too.
Now it was Thursday morning, forty-five minutes before noon.
If ODK was tapping today, then it was apparent that Jimmy Steele wasn't going to make it.
The one top honor he wanted so much was going to elude him.
Sure, he had the grades, but there were others who had the scholastic average, too-15.
Maybe-but he stopped in mid thought and shook his head stubbornly: He was in that five who didn't make the list.
Also, he hadn't received a letter like Charles'-or any other hint for that matter-that he was to be somewhere at noon.
The psychology major who roomed next door would get a big laugh out of him-Jimmy Steele-huddled in his room sweating with anxiety over whether he was in line to win another campus honor.
"You wheels," he had sneered on several occasions, "worrying over who's the biggest wheel here, scared as a kid out Trick or Treating that someone else will get an award that you don't!" He was in his late twenties, a veteran of the controversial war in Iraq, coldly realistic and cynical.
"They ought to put you guys out on the front line, facing an enemy with guns; then you would really have something to worry about.
" Why should they have to put you on the front line, facing an enemy with a gun? War.
That was why, because human beings were continually insisting that their way was the right and only way, refusing to permit others to live their way-which, by just the merest chance, could be a right way, too.
And what was wrong with coveting awards and other honors? One didn't receive them unless one met the standards-real, indiscriminate criteria-Then Jimmy caught himself: He acknowledged that too many times such honors were set up as the goal and everything else was simply a series of rungs in the ladder leading to that goal, instead of each being an end-a value-in itself.
Hell, why did he have to be so philosophical? He glanced at the clock on the desk.
Eleven-thirty.
He pulled on his trousers, remembering that he had to go by the magazine office for his budget folder to take to the Dean of Welfare's office.
He met redhaired Ted Dobson, student body president, on his way out of the dormitory and his suspicions grew.
Ted wore a white dress shirt and tie.
As they hurried across campus, Jimmy remarked: "I hear ODK is tapping today, Ted.
" If Jimmy had expected a reply, he received none.
Ted continued to look straight ahead, no expression on his face.
Finally he said, "You've done a terrific job with the campus mag this year, buddy.
" "Thanks," Jimmy responded gratefully.
He eyed Dobson furtively.
In the alumni building they ran into Al Douglas, blond, charismatic president of ODK.
He, too, sported a white shirt and tie.
Now there remained little doubt in Jimmy's mind about the society tapping today.
His mood collapsed like a suddenly deflated raft.
He wasn't to be one of the chosen ten.
He felt like crying; then he laughed.
"What the hell-the way I'm reacting you'd think it was a matter of life and death.
" Oddly his thoughts jumped to Peggy Miller, his sophomore sister and girlfriend.
If he had been tapped into ODK, she would have been very happy because she wanted above all for him to be happy.
If he wasn't selected, she would lessen the hurt and disappointment in her usually soothing way.
She would make the failure seem the most insignificant thing in the world.
For a few moments Jimmy felt sentimental, as she always made him feel when he thought of her, or was with her.
"It isn't what you have, but what you are, that really counts," he could hear her saying now.
The thought of her mellifluous voice made him suddenly feel weak.
Once she had told him, "I want a notable in heart-not in name.
" As Jimmy passed the Registrar's office, he spied Charles staring out one of the registrar windows.
"I'm checking on my grade average," he volunteered.
"Do you have it-what you need to be tapped?" Jimmy asked.
"Yeah-just barely," Charles sighed with relief.
"Do you think they will tap today?" "I'm almost certain today's the day," Jimmy said glumly.
He walked upstairs to the Dean of Welfare's office.
His secretary, Mrs.
Forbes, smiled when Jimmy strolled in.
Bill Meyers, student chairman of the Men's Judiciary, sat in a cushioned gold chair next to the door into the Dean's inner office.
"Please have a seat, Jimmy," she offered.
"Dr.
Waddell is in conference, but he will be with you in a few minutes.
" She had a pleasant smile that set Jimmy at ease.
He sat down next to Bill, who was staring thoughtfully at the beige carpet "What time do you have an appointment?" Jimmy asked the dark-haired, studious judiciary officer.
"It was scheduled for 11:45, but the Dean's running late.
" "As usual.
My appointment was at 11:45, too.
I wonder how publications and judiciary can fit into the same meeting?" Bill shrugged.
"I honestly don't know why I've been called in here," he commented, running his hand through curly chestnut hair.
"I've been checking back on all the sins I might have committed against the administration," he chuckled.
"So far I've come up with zilch.
" At that moment the Dean of Men, a wiry, baldheaded man with a friendly smile, emerged from Dean Waddell's office.
"Don't you boys go away," he greeted them casually.
He walked out of the room.
Jimmy glanced down the hall and saw some men in black graduation gowns-ODK members probably, dressed for the ceremony.
He felt sick-It was adolescent to let such a thing gnaw so tauntingly at him, but he was unable to accept philosophically the fact that he had been snubbed.
He thought it was hurt pride more than anything.
He turned to Bill.
"Why doesn't Dr.
Waddell hurry with that meeting!" he grunted.
The president of the senior class, Pete Landon, stuck his head through the hallway door.
He was tall, muscular, and had a perpetual leer on his face.
"Hey, Jimmy-Bill," he greeted the two seniors.
"Have you seen Wiley?" Wiley was chairman of the Class Day committee.
Both Jimmy and Bill said they hadn't seen him.
Jimmy stood up and strolled over to Landon.
"Are you being tapped into ODK?" he asked.
"I don't know anything about it," he said, and walked away.
So the president of the senior class wasn't being tapped either.
Well, there were only ten being tapped.
The Dean of Men reappeared, grinning.
"This gets worse by the minute, doesn't it?" he chuckled.
"You young men come with me.
" Bill and Jimmy glanced questioningly at each other.
As they hesitated, Dean Waddell, white-haired and distinguished, came out of his office smiling and beckoned them to follow him.
He led them out into the hall, where Charles fell in stride beside Jimmy.
"What's up?" Jimmy asked, not breaking stride; but he thought he knew the answer.
His heart began to beat a drum roll as they stepped out in front of the administration building.
Seeing Al Douglas, Ted Dobson, and other ODK members-all solemn and dignified in their caps and gowns-he swelled with emotion.
"We're being tapped into Omicron Delta Kappa," Charles grinned widely.
Maybe it wasn't so important-not like a lot of things-but just now it rated a strong second in Jimmy's life, he thought.
The first? His steady girl friend.
Wish you were here, Peg!
