Spoiled Rotten Anonymous

Spoiled Rotten

Admitting that you’re a spoiled child isn’t easy. I was the kind of person in high school who probably spent too much time putting on my makeup and picking out my clothes, and I was the kind of person who worried a lot about my skin complexion and how tall I was. There was even this one time where my hairdresser cut my hair a little shorter than I wanted, and I cried for days on end. What kind of person does that?

In mid-July, I boarded a seven-hour flight with fourteen other people that I didn’t know. We were all headed to Guatemala to help build a school in the mountains down south so that the children in the rural community we were visiting might be able to receive an education. We discussed what the trip would be like meeting after meeting, so I knew what to expect. I had seen all of the pictures of the stray dogs; I had seen the malnourished children; and I had seen the shacks that they made into houses. However, nothing could have prepared me for the reality of seeing girls my own age dealing with things that I could never imagine dealing with. Many of the children had lice so badly that their scalps bled. Our leaders actually told us that we shouldn’t be hugging the children in order to prevent us from...