Operation Day's Work is a student run solidarity program started in Norway in 1964.

The main concept is that of donating a day of one's life in an attempt at fixing the unfair differences of the world.

In Norway, almost 150.000 pupils and students between the ages of 13 to 20 spend a single day of their lives at a regular job. Their pay is donated to a project to enhance the level of education somewhere in the world.

Education is always in the midst of everything in Operation Day's Work.

Information Campaign
At the same time, Operation Day's Work is a major information campaign which spotlights problems and generally encourages young people to fight for other people's rights - out of solidarity.

This information campaign is made by the students themselves. The entire campaign is made by a commitee of 19-20 year old full-time workers - although they don't receive any payment for their work.

Nothing like aid
Other organizations do provide economic aid to poor countries. Operation Day's Work does not. If the people in the rich countries are not aware of the basic unfairness of the world, one can never establish equality through economic aid.

Operation Day's Work is therefore not about money - although it raises quite a lot. ODW is all about solidarity - all about understanding that the world is a terrible place we can fix.

ODW has spread ever since 1964. The US has their version, and many European countries have adopted the idea. Maybe there is somewhere you can work for ODW?

A text about ODW
This text is written by a 17 year old boy.. In the Norwegian ODW system. I've tried to translate it - it is not a good translation. But that's not the point..

The text is maybe focused on Norway, but could just as well be any small group of people or country.

The music swings for a long, painful time
Like a fat and well-fed swan. Shiningly white in the light of the last sunset. The mirror image of the lanterns are distorted in the rough water and becomes a blurry light. The yacht ploughs its way through the dirty, grayish water.

From the rear deck you can hear lively dance music. The cabaret is slowly approaching the end. The chief of the orchestra, Mr. Capital, plays his tenor saxophone solo supported by the forces of the market's big band. By notes. Military drummer. Blind bassist. The music swings for a long, painful time.

In his tiny room at the back sits the young Mr. Norway. Through the wood of the deck he can hear the leaking sounds of the grown-ups' party; discussions about celebrities, trends and the big band's rythmic banging. Mr.Norway produces his own little party flute in paper and plastic. We play along. Dreaming about getting to play our own solo. Some day. On our own party flute. Until then we are happy miming the compositions of the market forces.

Outside the boat. Only ten inches of steel. Is reality passing by. Frightening. Definite. But the lanterns' lights do not penetrate into the water. Darkness. Is it a good thing that we are well connected to the tunes of the market's big band? Is it a good thing that our little party flute is playing so loud we cannot hear the masses of water? Is it a good thing that we don't move at the same tempo as the rest of the world? NO, because we aren't just floating on top!

No matter how hard we tighten the bolts, they will leak. Either out or in. We cannot live on an artificial island while the real world passes by. We may live in a bubble, but the walls are as thin as paper. It should not be too difficult to make a hole. And one more. And yet another. And then another one - at least in our young heads.

Many tiny holes are called a strainer. A strainer is not waterproof. Luckily.

(And I chose not to link here-there-and-everywhere in this text. Thank you for your time)

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