Liar, Liar. Pants on Fire...

I do not like to tell lies.  I hate to sound self-righteous, but I really try not to tell lies.  I have a potty mouth.  I have no temperance when it comes to sweets.  And I speed.  This is just a small list of my many sins.

I have given up on deliberate dishonesty...my face gives me away every time.  I might try but the corners of my mouth turn upward, in a sort of semi-grin and my eyes get big.  I don't believe my own bullshit.  So, how can I profess it to others.  So I have decided that honesty is my best policy.  I believe in cosmic order and that untruthfulness disrupts this order (I know...it's cheesy.  Forgive me.  I feel your eyes rolling as I write this).  I believe that small lies lead to bigger lies...and that leads to lying to yourself (and subsequently believing it), which is the greatest lie of all.

With that said...

When I read this assignment, I was sitting with my mother.  So I turned to and asked, "Can you remember a time when I lied?"  And she did, because she had recently found a document...a confession, you might say...and had laughed reading it.

She said that she found a letter that I wrote when I was in the eighth grade (or one of those middle school years).  I was homeschooled from grades 4-9 and we followed a curriculum that required our work to be turned into the actual school from where the curriculum was developed.  

Ok.  But let me explain one thing.  I am no math person.  That is why my major is English. 

I was having a hard time with algebra, so when I took my exam, stunned by the problems and not sure how to tackle them, I decided to take a peek into my mother/teacher's answer book...a big spiral bound book that held the key to every  problem.  I jotted down the answers and handed it in.

I am not sure how long it took her to notice, probably not much time at all.  See, in math you are given credit on the steps you take to solve the problem...even if the final answer if wrong. Well, needless to say, I had shown little to no effort.  

My mother confronted me.

My punishment was to write a letter of apology to the administrative board or superintendent, someone very important.  My confession and apology were sincere.  I don't remember if I cried, or if I was scared of the consequences, though I am sure of both.  The thing is...my mother never sent the letter, though she had let on that she did.  But she did hold on to it for all of these years.  

Lesson learned.