Three weeks ago, I was unfortunate enough to receive a citation from the University of Wisconsin Police for the underage consumption of alcohol. Understandably, the $243 infraction came as somewhat of a surprise, and I immediately resorted to finding a cheaper way out of it.

Upon appearing in court to perhaps reduce the exorbitant sum to something a college student can afford, I determined the presiding judge had little or no power to provide leniency. I waited to appear before him and watched underage offender after underage offender beg for fine reductions only to be informed of one somewhat unappealing option that could prove beneficial in the long run: community service.

The other misled youths in the courtroom were mostly area teens, accompanied in many cases by their stern-faced parents or derelict accomplices. I was informed subsequently that the option presented to my comrades is a prearranged community service deal that reduces the fine by $104.

Applying only to first-offense ticket holders, the deal takes down the total amount due by $124 but adds a $20 service charge owed to the community establishment upon arrangement of the service to be completed.

One can surmise the benefits of a community service obligation: the one-time event could develop into a genuine interest in something productive and rewarding not only for the convicts themselves but the Madison area at large. Many programs in the area, including a diverse array of humanitarian task forces, provide essential support for the elderly, the poor and the underprivileged — and could use a strapping young person to lend a helping hand.

Community service has always been the aspiration of many but the passion of few: it’s a time-consuming but reportedly life-changing experience. A more obligation-free environment than mine is required to facilitate such an undertaking, as I’m sure is the case for many local students. But imagine my delight at the possibility of not only reducing my excessive penalty but also exploring the community, reaching out to new and different people and getting involved in something promoting the greater good.

Upon closer inspection of the community-service information sheet provided by the court, however, I was struck by how such a potential-filled situation could be made almost completely ineffective by certain limitations set by the arrangement’s arbiters.

After reading the materials detailing the option provided by the court, it became clear that criminals so delinquent as underage drinkers can only provide service in exchange for fine-reducing compensation through one community outlet: the Hospitality House on Martin Street or its affiliate, the Men’s Drop-In Shelter on West Washington.

By some ambiguous arrangement with the City of Madison, it seems no other local establishment providing neighborly benediction makes the cut.

It’s not exactly jail, but the eight-hour community service option should certainly be considered serving time: prearranging servitude with one organization exclusively seems not only unreasonable but also to go against the core ideals of community service altogether. Nothing beyond mere hourly labor can be gained through the forced and unnatural arrangement provided by the City.

The $104-saving community service option is a budding idea with unbridled potential, but the villainous youngsters to which it is presented need the opportunity to pick and choose an appropriate benefits recipient of their hourly consideration. Such a choice would allow the teens to truly put forth effort toward something they feel important, rather than to something simply assigned by a governing force. Imaginably the number of hours spent would remain constant, though the potential to be nurtured during that time is significantly more considerable.

Between my interesting run-in with the police officer at 3:55 a.m. three Saturdays ago and my disconcerting court appearance, the legal system has provided me little material from which to draw a valuable lesson. Indeed, the officer I interrogated that night was unwilling to provide a viable answer to my repeated question: “what is $243 getting me?” And for first-time offenders, answering that question should take no time at all: $243, or $139 in the case of a community-servicing youth, should buy an experience that will influence the rest of his ill-fated decisions in life. An encounter with the police should not simply empty the pocketbook but also fill the fresh, young mind with something not measurable in monetary terms.

Providing dishonored citation recipients with the chance to take away something huge, possibly a life-altering run-in with an organization close to home from such an initially negative experience would be beneficial beyond the confines of any standard one-stop punishment or monetary stab. The City should not only work to get the most out of its offenders but also to provide the most possible for them in return by allowing them the choice of where to direct their time and energy.

Taylor Hughes ([email protected]) is a sophomore intending to major in business.