For years, I taught the English elective, Ethical Dilemmas, a course that former Head of School John Hanly had started back in the 1990s. Given its pedigree, I wanted to do it justice. Accordingly, I assigned texts that challenged my students to explore the boundaries between ethical and unethical behavior, books like Ethan Frome, Death and the Maiden, and The Stranger. To supplement the reading, I also formulated my own list of One Hundred Hypothetical Ethical Dilemmas. I thought it might offer an occasional diversion for the students to test their ethics with as many different situations as possible. Of course, the list featured the most dire dilemmas I could think of, including water rationing on a lifeboat adrift at sea, a bribe to move a child up on an organ donor waitlist, and what my college philosophy professor humorously called the “classic trolley challenge” (I assume you know it). Looking over the list, I imagined what my students might say about these life-and-death circumstances. What would they do?
While I freely admit it was fun discussing extreme scenarios like leaving an injured climbing partner on the snowy slopes of Mt. Everest, what I enjoyed even more were the hypotheticals from everyday life. What do you do when your wife says no to your daughter and the kid asks you the same question twenty minutes later? What do you say when your parents return from a trip and ask if you hosted a party in their absence? I found these less-dramatic situations often yielded more interesting responses from my students, and more rigorous debates as well. So I want to share one here in the hopes that it might inspire the same for you.
About a decade ago, I was living with my family in Princeton, and my wife and I decided to renovate our house. It turned into a major project, and we had to relocate for months during the construction. When it was finally finished, the house and environs were beautiful. To celebrate this good fortune, we set a date and invited everyone we knew to join us for a party at our new home. It wasn’t quite an evening at Jay Gatsby’s, but it was, for us, the biggest social gathering since our wedding. Think caterers, live music, and even an ice sculpture. My wife and I felt we had taken a big step toward happily ever after, and we wanted to share that moment with everyone we knew.
The preparations went swimmingly, with one catch. Our lengthy driveway ran alongside the lawn of our neighbor’s home. I knew Valerie and John casually, mostly from conversations at our mailboxes; beyond that, they were just the people next door. About a month before our party, Valerie mentioned that she and John were going on a trip to Europe; she didn’t say for how long. I wished her a safe trip and got on with my life. However, as the day of the party approached, I noticed that the lawn alongside our driveway looked increasingly unkempt. The grass was growing higher, and the yellow heads of dandelions were sprouting up everywhere. I knew that John cut the grass, and I calculated that if he and Valerie didn’t get back before the party, their unsightly property would ruin the view as our guests drove up to our newly renovated home. Isn’t our new place wonderful? Too bad we live next to the House of Usher.
Of course, here comes the ethical dilemma. Was there anything I could do to avoid disaster? There was no way to contact Valerie and John in Europe; moreover, they were retirees and might stay there well past the party. Faced with this conundrum, I asked myself a difficult question: what if I fired up my own John Deere tractor mower and cut the neighbors’ grass myself? It seemed like an expedient solution and, in a way, I was sort of doing Valerie and John a favor: their lawn wouldn’t be a mess when they got back. As with most ethical dilemmas, though, this facile rationalization soon gave way to some nagging questions. Did I have a right to go on a neighbor’s property and cut the grass without their permission? Could I assume they wouldn’t object? And how would I feel if the circumstances were reversed? The image of John taking that liberty in my absence (and for his benefit) did not sit well with me. Nor did an old property case from law school in which a hunter trespassed on someone else’s estate in pursuit of his prey (and lost the subsequent suit against him). I discussed the situation with my wife, but felt that, in the end, the decision was mine to make.
Before you read on, two questions: What do you think I did? And (of course) what would you do? Frankly, I don’t remember how my students responded, although I think a majority of them were in favor of cutting the neighbor’s lawn. And to end the suspense, that is exactly what I did. It took an hour, the lawn looked great, and our party was a huge hit. Valerie and John came home about a week later and said nothing, although they could hardly have failed to notice that someone had cut their lawn. Life went on, as it always does, but I am still left wondering if I did the right thing. That question doesn’t keep me up at night, but I still think about it all these years later, even though my family and I have since moved to Skillman and I no longer cut my own grass, or anyone else’s. So I invite you to take a minute and consider this humble ethical dilemma. It may not put you in a lifeboat with dwindling provisions or high on the summit ridge of mighty Mt. Everest, but it just may give you pause to think the next time you are watching television, strolling around your property, or on your way to work.
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Author photo by Anthony "Truncs" Truncale '26
To contact the author: Mr. Keating