To Walk From Omelas, To Stay In Omelas?

When I was first asked this question my immediate instinctual answer was "yes, of course I would walk away from Omelas." That answer came without much thought into the matter, because, of course, being brought up in the society I'm in now has taught me to cringe at the very thought of child abuse and unnecessary suffering; however, upon further reflection, I don't think it's as easy an answer as it first seemed.
First, I must take into account that nobody in Omelas feels guilt. No guilt at all. So, then, what would be my motivation to leave? When I answered 'yes' part of the reason was because I felt as though I wouldn't be able to live with myself knowing that my happiness comes at a very high price...but Le Guin makes it clear that nobody in Omelas has such feelings.
Second, I must take into account that walking away will not solve the problem. I would still be allowing the problem to live on in Omelas, I would still be 'turning the other cheek,' and the only way to actually solve the problem would mean the destruction of Omelas and the citizens' happiness. Would I be able to live with that? I'm sure that if I took the child away, negative emotions (namely, guilt) would quickly be introduced into the regularly happy city, and I would have to stomach that guilt for the rest of my days. Could I handle it?
Third, I must take into account the fact that the existence of this child has been known of and accepted as part of the culture for a long time. Depending on how old I was when the child was first imprisoned, s/he could possibly have been there for my entire life. If I had grown up with this knowledge, would I really be so eager and willing to take a stand against it? If it's accepted as 'the way of life' and has been for ages, would rebelling against the idea even cross my mind?
Essentially, the question that is being posed here is "is the happiness of one worth sacrificing for the happiness of many?" While deep in my heart I recoil against saying yes, I don't think I could say anything else. I wouldn't be able to destroy families and relationships to save one small, dirty child. I wouldn't be able to sacrifice my OWN livelihood and joy for this child. I'm going to be honest here and say that I'm not that altruistic. It breaks my heart, but I have to keep in mind that this heartbreak wouldn't exist in Omelas. There would be no guilt, and I, too, would eventually talk myself into believing that the child really is better off in it's squalor. So there's my answer, as horrible as it is and as ashamed as I am to say it, I would not walk away from Omelas. At least I'm honest, that's all I have to say.

First Day Nerves

As excited as I was to get started with school, I must admit that, while I was getting ready to enter my first class, a terrifying thought struck my mind: since I grew up in a tight community where the elementary, middle and high schools were all close to each other, it has been thirteen years since I have taken a seat in a classroom where EVERY face is a stranger. The thought almost disabled my 'confident girl walk' immediately. I fretted. My friend-making muscle had completely atrophied, and for about 30 seconds I felt lost and small, like I was in Kindergarten again watching my mother drive away from me. I glanced enviously at the people who were already making friends. How jealous I was to hear that they had gone to high school together, since all of my high school friends (that are attending SFU) take all of their classes at the Burnaby campus. I took a seat (front row, edge of the classroom) and prepared to learn.

I was shortly disappointed because it seems as though, no matter where you are or what school you're attending, the first day is always reserved for the boring administrative duties: here's what you're doing, here's what's expected of you, here's how you're being graded. Jump through the hoops, be different in a way that will still get you the best grades and a job that will support you. The same thing every year. Nonetheless, I listened attentively, all the time reminded that I didn't have any friends around me to distract me even if I wanted to be distracted.

As the class was dismissed (tutorial thankfully cancelled) I took my time packing up and wandered into the hallways, lost in my thoughts. My first day hadn't been a complete failure, but it was a harsh reminder that transitioning from high school to university wasn't going to be easy. But what the heck, I'm Robyn Vondrasek, and I can do anything. I am superwoman, after all.

Stay tuned for entries cataloguing my Beedie FROSH experience!