The Scout’s (童子军) slogan is “Do a Good Turn Daily.” In Troop 506 of Ham Lake, a 13-year-old Scout Jonathan is pioneering new trails when it comes to “good turns.”

Like many troops, 506 sells popcorn to raise money. Many Scouts fear trying to convince people to buy from them. But in 2019, Jonathan watched as kids who’d made $1,800 or more in sales crossed a stage to receive a Lego set as a reward. “I really wanted that Lego set,” he says.

The next year, he earned his Legos. But Troop 506 doesn’t just give out Lego sets. Under its generous reward program, Scouts receive a percentage of their sales in gift cards and cash points for activities. Inspired, Jonathan spent the next few years developing an astonishing skill for selling.

Popcorn too expensive? A simple donation will do. No cash? He also takes plastic. He marched into a car dealership and struck a deal with the dealer: In all his sales efforts, he’d wear a mask with the company’s logo if the owner would buy popcorn for all his employees.

Jonathan started pulling down jaw-dropping numbers. In 2021, he was a top seller and earning $5,000. He might have spent it on himself, but he had other ideas. The holidays were on his mind - particularly the stories his father had told him about his own days in foster care where the real Christmas-morning experience his father was once denied.

“They didn’t really have Christmas,” Jonathan says. With $5,000, he could bring Christmas to a lot of kids. He shifted from big seller to big spender, hand-selecting $5,000 worth of gifts for several kids. “It really makes me happy,” he says, “the feeling that I’m making those kids happy on Christmas.”

“This is the reason why we do Scouting. Jonathan’s a great example for all of us” says his scoutmaster, Aaron Miller.

“Runners, on your mark. Get set..." Bang! And I was off, along with other teenage runners from high schools across the county. It was a fine day, like any other fair-weather autumn day in Maryland. But the race that day felt unique (特别的)from the get-go. For one thing, I liked the course. It was my team's home course, one I was used to running during practices. It took runners along terrain (地形)that included open fields, hills and even dirt paths through a small forest. It was a beautiful 5-kilometer course. This particular race was our team's invite, and I was proud to be sharing the course with competitors from other schools. It also meant a lot more than normal — that my parents were there to cheer me on.

With so much to expect that day, I was ready to run! And I didn't want to be stuck with other runners, as is typical at the beginning of most cross-country races. So when the gun sounded, I took off running, leaving everyone else in the dust.

The first part of our course followed a large open field before disappearing into the forest. Within seconds of the start, I was far ahead of everyone, and all of the fans could see it. It felt magnificent!

But that feeling didn't last long. Little did I know my coach was laughing to himself thinking, "Gabe is done for!" And I was. My body was telling me to slow down. My pride, however, said "No! Not until you're out of sight of the audiences!" I was in pain, but I kept up my pace until I reached the forest. Once I was among the trees, I slowed way down.

I enjoyed most races, even while pushing myself, but this one was not enjoyable in the least. I finished the race, but in nowhere near the time I could have if I’ d paced myself well from the beginning. Every time I reflect on that cross-country season, I’m reminded of something: Pride is no substitute for pace.

Since I graduated from high school, I’ve worked in the factories surrounding my hometown every summer. However, making the transition (转变) between school and full-time blue-collar work during the break never gets any easier. For a student like me who considers any class before noon to be uncivilized, getting to a factory by 6 o'clock each morning is a torture.

There’re few people as self-confident as a college student who has never been out in the real world. People of my age always seem to overestimate the value of their time and knowledge. In fact, all the classes did not prepare me for my battles with the machine I ran in the plant, which would jam whenever I absent-mindedly put in a part backward or upside down.

The most stressful thing about blue-collar life is knowing your job could disappear overnight. Issues like downsizing (裁员) and overseas relocation always seemed distant to me until my co-worker told me that the unit I was working in would shut down within six months and move to Mexico, where people would work for 60 cents an hour.

After working 12-hour shifts in a factory, the other options have become only too clear. When I’m back at the university, skipping classes and turning in lazy rewrites seem too irresponsible after seeing what I would be doing without school. All the advice and public-service announcements about the value of an education that used to sound stale (out of date) now ring true.

These lessons I’m learning, however valuable, are always tinged (带有) with a sense of guilt. Many people pass their lives in the places I briefly work, spending 30 years where I spend only two months at a time. “The job pays well, but it is very hard,” said one co-worker. “Study hard and keep reading,” she added.

My experiences in the factories have inspired me to make the most of my college years before I enter the real world for good.