Today we present Neighborhood Writing Alliance writer and workshop leader Erin Moore’s “This I Believe” essay.
Listen to Erin read her essay here.
This I Believe
Erin Moore
I crouched down on sore legs to look at the insects crawling across the path. A long line of them traveled from the corn field across the trail and into the shaded shrubs on the other side.
“Son hormigas cortadoras de hojas,”—leaf-cutter ants—Jaime, my guide, said, pointing at the corn plants’ leaves, chewed up like swiss cheese. I had come to Nicaragua’s Pacific region to climb Volcán Maderas, but today we were distracted by the sight of these amazing insects at work. Jaime told me that los trabajadores, or the workers, are the menial laborers who bite off bits of leaves and carry them to underground nests. The large soldados, or soldiers, patrol the area, and defend the nests, and, according to Jaime, make up the most important caste. He was clearly impressed by this sociedad muy avanzada—this advanced society—which organized work along a scale of skill and importance.
I squatted there squinting into the dirt. After a while my thighs got sore, and we moved on. I hadn’t come to Nicaragua Pacific only to stare at bugs.
A few weeks later, I was home in Chicago, sitting at a desk in the back of my classroom. I work at an early childhood education center, and data entry is my least favorite part of my job. I had recently been promoted, but with more status and a new title, came longer hours, so I was still there, even though the sky outside was getting dark and everyone else had gone home. Then Armando, the school custodian, came in to mop the floor. We chatted while he swept up used crayon nubs and fallen change. I had been feeling grumpy about staying late, but seeing Armando reminded me that he has even less control over his hours. While he makes $7.50 an hour, I’m now on salary. He doesn’t get a lot of respect, but I see us as both doing important work: creating a safe learning environment for children.
That night, I met some friends at a restaurant to show them pictures of my trip. As I slid a photo of the leaf-cutter ants across the silky tablecloth, I found myself repeating an English translation of Jaime’s take on them. For him, the neat line of marching trabajadores and patrolling soldados reflected the efficiency of a well-run company with laborers and managers.
As I heard myself talking, I thought of Armando and realized I did not agree with Jaime’s analogy. Humans have decided that some people’s contributions are important and that others’, like Armando’s, are not. But I imagine that things are different beneath the dirt in the underground nests of the leaf-cutter ants. There, the workers who clear away the clutter and debris are valued just as much as the workers keeping watch. And I believe that is a truly advanced society.
Today is part two of our four-part This I Believe essay series. As part of our support of WBEZ’s “This I Believe: An Evening with Bob Edwards,” we invited Neighborhood Writing Alliance participants to write their own This I Believe-style essays.
Erin Moore is a writer and workshop leader for NWA’s weekly writing workshop at the Albany Park Branch Library.
NWA Writer and Workshop Leader Erin Moore
