When I was in fourth grade, my mother gave me several yards of rope left over from when she put up a clothesline in our backyard so I could use it as a jump rope. At that time, I was still attending a Catholic school, so having a jump rope long enough for all the girls in my class suddenly made me everyone’s best friend. For some reason, little girls in Catholic school really love to jump rope.

The first day I brought my covetable toy to school, my classmates insisted I be the first to have a go at one of the many rhyme games we knew. I felt like a celebrity as they applauded me for turning around and touching the ground in the middle of the quickly twirling sphere. The second day that I brought the ridiculously long rope to recess, I was asked to assume the less-than-desirable role of twirler. Being too Nice to object, I agreed and took up my post on the left. And you know what? From that day forward, I never got another chance to jump my own rope. I just kept turning and twirling for 16 girls in uniform.

This anecdote, if you have not figured it out, is my attempt at a quaint introduction to a discussion about sharing and how Nice People notoriously share too much.

As children we are taught that sharing is caring, and so Nice Children share everything. At first, they enjoy the way their parents praise them for their selflessness, and it becomes a sort of game of seeing how much attention they can gain from their good deeds. Then, as they grow older, Nice Children begin to see sharing as a surefire way to gain friends. This is where sharing practically becomes giving: In an effort to gain something valuable, a child will sacrifice whatever seems most desired, whether it is the pudding his mother packed for lunch or a half-hour jumping rope to senseless rhymes chanted by her classmates.

Eventually, though, that Nice Child grows up and the concept of sharing undergoes yet another transformation. At some indefinable moment, a Nice Person decides, perhaps unconsciously, that instead of sharing, he or she will simply concede whenever necessary for the sole purpose of avoiding conflict.

Imagine you are a Nice Girl or Boy living in one of the moderately sized double-occupancy rooms on campus. On your way home from class one day, you suddenly remember the pint of mint chocolate chip in your freezer, and you cannot wait to get home and devour it while watching a rerun of The Office. So you are dismayed when you discover your roommate ate that ice cream last night after you fell asleep. But despite how badly you had craved the treat, you will probably say nothing six days later when your roommate finally mentions how good it tasted. After all, you could always buy another pint when Late Nite opens.

Now imagine you have returned home and found a note on your whiteboard explaining that your roommate is inside with a “special friend” and wishes not to be disturbed. It is Monday, almost midnight, and your first class is at 8 a.m. You know they will be indisposed for hours because this is the millionth time this month that “special friend” has come by to visit. However, as you dejectedly take your place on the common room couch, you will likely rationalize the situation by making excuses for your roommate and his or her understandable need for private time.

But neither of these situations should be so calmly reasoned out of your mind. Sure, sharing your belongings and your space with your roommate reveals your inherent Niceness, but the line really must be drawn somewhere. If not, you will one day find yourself with absolutely nothing, all of your worldly possessions having been shared away.

I am not saying you need to draw a tape line down the center of the room and declare war on your roommate whenever he or she crosses it. I am not saying your name should be written with a Sharpie on every item in the room you own. I am simply saying that we Nice Girls and Boys need to be a little more possessive sometimes. In this we are not being selfish, but merely demanding the respect we deserve when it comes to our personal effects and personal space. When we are tempted to concede, we must learn to compromise instead. If sharing is caring, compromise is considerate. It shows you intend to reciprocate the respect you are shown and that you can be tolerant of lifestyles and personal needs different from your own — that you are willing to twirl, as long as you still get to jump every now and then.