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WMC Commentary: The Categorical Spitzer  by Shannon Reed

Former New York Governor Eliot Spitzer. Some rights reserved.

“What was he thinking?”
“That is. Just. Gross.”
“Why couldn’t he just keep it in his pants?” 

My New York City classroom erupted last week when I brought up the revelation that Governor Eliot Spitzer repeatedly purchased the services of high-priced prostitutes, while maintaining his public face as a crusader, stamping out moral decay.

“He has a wife!”
“He has three daughters!”
“Oh, man, if my dad did that, I’d pop him.”

I teach high school seniors at a small Catholic girls’ school. As the time draws near for their graduation, I increasingly see how little I’ve managed to convey to them. They know more about literature, vocabulary, grammar, and writing, of course. But what have I been able to teach them about being women in 21st century America? Or about being a compassionate, but fair, judge? Or about being wise? 

Time will take care of much of this, but, still, when an event like Governor Spitzer’s scandal emerges, I want to help the eldest of my charges to sort through their responses, to help them arrive at a mature evaluation. I thought they needed an adult’s perspective.

“Ms. Reed, I was so excited when I heard about this, because they kept using our vocab word on the television: hypocrite.”

I’ve always joked that teenagers judge others in absolute terms, but want their own actions to be seen from all sides. Adulthood requires a more nuanced way of response, I thought. And I do love nuance.

So I fretted. Life is complicated, and I worried about them.

Just a week before, we had discussed the Christian theory of situational ethics—the idea that one must act in all situations in the way that is most loving. We had also talked about the development of a personal moral code, and the various ways people think through ethical issues to choose what they feel is right. I’d led the girls through an increasingly difficult array of moral quandaries, forcing them to more finely dice and mince their decisions.

I expected the same dicing and mincing with Governor Spitzer. Surely, I thought, we’d hold a difficult-to-lead-yet-important conversation about power and sex; or discuss how justice should work in this situation; or debate decriminalizing prostitution. These were all ideas I was prepared to bat around.
           
“I’m sorry, but that man is not worth one more iota of my time. I have bigger problems in my life than Governor Spitzer’s issue.”

What I heard, instead, was the pure moral outrage of a group of teenagers who finally get to speak out against an adult who’s been an idiot. I listened to their comments. I pulled them away from reaching too far (“All men are scum!”). I tried to keep them from inanities (“I heard that he bought a plane in Vermont to fly his hookers around in!”). I moved us away from conflating the issue (“His wife is pretty, too!”). And in the end, when each had gotten her say, I saw that, as the girls would put it, I had been taught.

Sometimes there is no room for wiggling. I had liked Governor Spitzer, and had voted for him. I didn’t want this to be happening. I didn’t want to be crushed by his actions. I wanted to see shadings. But the girls were right.

He should resign (and would, within 24 hours), and he should be punished. In the end, we said a prayer for him, his wife, and his girls, whom my girls worried the most about, and we also prayed for justice.

“I feel like what my mom always says: ‘I’m not angry. I’m disappointed.’”
“I believe in compassion. But I also believe that there are some things you just shouldn’t do.”

In four months, when these girls graduate, I think they’re going to be fine. I do worry a bit about those of us who always want to avoid the unequivocal. Sometimes the world is, actually, much simpler.

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