Catherine Ryan Hyde - Pay It Forward

October 2002

M aybe someday Ill have kids of my own. I hope so. If I do, theyll probably ask what part I played in the movement that changed the world. And because Im not the person I once was, Ill tell them the truth. My part was nothing. I did nothing. I was just the guy in the corner taking notes.

My name is Chris Chandler and Im an investigative reporter. Or at least I was. Until I found out that actions have consequences, and not everything is under my control. Until I found out that I couldnt change the world at all, but a seemingly ordinary twelve-year-old boy could change the world completelyfor the better, and foreverworking with nothing but his own altruism, one good idea, and a couple of years. And a big sacrifice.

And a splash of publicity. Thats where I came in.

I can tell you how it all started.

It started with a teacher who moved to Atascadero, California, to teach social studies to junior high school students. A teacher nobody knew very well, because they couldnt get past his face. Because it was hard to look at his face.

It started with a boy who didnt seem all that remarkable on the outside, but who could see past his teachers face.

It started with an assignment that this teacher had given out a hundred times before, with no startling results. But that assignment in the hands of that boy caused a seed to be planted, and after that nothing in the world would ever be the same. Nor would anybody want it to be.

And I can tell you what it became. In fact, Ill tell you a story that will help you understand how big it grew.

About a week ago my car stalled in a busy intersection, and it wouldnt start again no matter how many times I tried. It was rush hour, and I thought I was in a hurry. I thought I had something important to do, and it couldnt wait. So I was standing in the middle of the intersection looking under the hood, which was a misguided effort because I cant fix cars. What did I think I would see?

Id been expecting this. It was an old car. It was as good as gone.

A man came up behind me, a stranger.

Lets get it off to the side of the road, he said. Here. Ill help you push. When we got itand ourselvesto safety he handed me the keys to his car. A nice silver Acura, barely two years old. You can have mine, he said. Well trade.

He didnt give me the car as a loan. He gave it to me as a gift. He took my address, so he could send me the title. And he did send the title; it just arrived today.

A great deal of generosity has come into my life lately, the note said, so I felt I could take your old car and use it as a trade-in. I can well afford something new, so why not give as good as Ive received?

Thats what kind of world its become. No, actually its more. Its become even more. Its not just the kind of world in which a total stranger will give me his car as a gift. Its the kind of world in which the day I received that gift was not dramatically different from all other days. Such generosity has become the way of things. Its become commonplace.

So this much I understand well enough to relate: it started as an extra credit assignment for a social studies class and turned into a world where no one goes hungry, no one is cold, no one is without a job or a ride or a loan.

And yet at first people needed to know more. Somehow it was not enough that a boy barely in his teens was able to change the world. Somehow it had to be known why the world could change at just that moment, why it could not have changed a moment sooner, what Trevor brought to that moment, and why it was the very thing that moment required.

And that, unfortunately, is the part I cant explain.

I was there. Every step of the way I was there. But I was a different person then. I was looking in all the wrong places. I thought it was just a story, and the story was all that mattered. I cared about Trevor, but by the time I cared about him enough it was too late. I thought I cared about my work, but I didnt know what my work could really mean until it was over. I wanted to make lots of money. I did make lots of money. I gave it all away.

I dont know who I was then, but I know who I am now.

Trevor changed me, too.

I thought Reuben would have the answers. Reuben St. Clair, the teacher who started it all. He was closer to Trevor than anybody except maybe Trevors mother, Arlene. And Reuben was looking in all the right places, I think. And I believe he was paying attention.

So, after the fact, when it was my job to write books about the movement, I asked Reuben two important questions.

What was it about Trevor that made him different? I asked.

Reuben thought carefully and then said, The thing about Trevor was that he was just like everybody else, except for the part of him that wasnt.

I didnt even ask what part that was. Im learning.

Then I asked, When you first handed out that now-famous assignment, did you think that one of your students would actually change the world?

And Reuben replied, No, I thought they all would. But perhaps in smaller ways.

Im becoming someone who asks fewer questions. Not everything can be dissected and understood. Not everything has a simple answer. Thats why Im not a reporter anymore. When you lose interest in questions, youre out of a job. Thats okay. I wasnt as good at it as I should have been. I didnt bring anything special to the game.

People gradually stopped needing to know why. We adjust quickly to change, even as we rant and rail and swear we never will. And everybody likes a change if its a change for the better. And no one likes to dwell on the past if the past is ugly and everything is finally going well.

The most important thing I can add from my own observations is this: knowing it started from unremarkable circumstances should be a comfort to us all. Because it proves that you dont need much to change the entire world for the better. You can start with the most ordinary ingredients. You can start with the world youve got.

January 1992

T he woman smiled so politely that he felt offended.

Let me tell Principal Morgan that youre here, Mr. St. Clair. Shell want to talk with you. She walked two steps, turned back. She likes to talk to everyone, I mean. Any new teacher.

Of course.

He should have been used to this by now.