Too Young to Be Labeled a Cheater

Children inherently want to be seen as good, especially the young ones. For a brief stint, I taught at an after-school enrichment program in Koreatown in Los Angeles. The children that stood out to me were the five to six-year-olds. They were so obedient, at the ready to be recognized for what had been defined as good behavior, and almost scared of being seen as “bad.”

None of these children would lie or cheat, unless forced to. I recalled when I had been forced to lie as a seven-year-old. It was a fairly benign situation so don’t start thinking of “To Catch a Predator” scenarios. My scenario was having been accused of cheating on a second-grade spelling test in Language Arts class.

My teacher was Mrs. Weghorst, who I would in early adolescence look back on as Mrs. Wegworst. She caught me “cheating.”

She reprimanded me as I erased last week’s spelling list for today’s spelling test. I think she thought that I would have used the erased list to spell out the words on the in-class test that day. My seven-year-old mind could not even devise such a scheme.

I merely was trying to avoid getting a Cold Prickly. In second grade, the teachers gave Warm Fuzzies to recognize students for good behavior, and Cold Pricklies for bad behavior.

On the day of the spelling test, I was out of paper in my writing tablet, a writing tablet with the thick gray pages and blue lines. It was the properly selected paper for second graders. Either I had been too shy to tell my mom I was out of paper or too afraid that it was just another expense. In my home, my parents’ arguments, which seemed unending, always revolved around money.

With all my might, I took my pink gum eraser to clean off the previous week’s spelling test. Mrs. Weghorst hovered over me and accused, “Just what are you doing? Are you cheating?”

My voice got caught in my throat. I must have looked guilty, or outraged at the accusation as I don’t think I even knew what cheating entailed at that age.

Mrs. Weghorst gave me a zero on the spelling test. Maybe she thought I had been cheating all along. I always got A+ on spelling tests, and even got the Extra Credit right. I was a gifted speller. Maybe Mrs. Weghorst’s accusation was an accusation of my abilities.

Mrs. Weghorst sent me home with a note for my mother to sign, explaining that I had been caught cheating on a test. Now here is where I incorporated the teachings of earlier that day — scheming.

Instead of showing my mom this note, I told her that I was learning cursive. I asked my mom to write her signature several times to see if I could do it too. Mom complied. I don’t know why. She was probably just convalescing in front of the TV with a cup of tea and endless Ritz crackers, after a day on her feet at some lousy retail job.

Well, you guessed it. I took my mom’s signatures and traced them onto the note from Mrs. Weghorst. To do this day, I have horrendous penmanship so it’s no wonder Mrs. Weghorst called Mom the very next night.

I was in bed, and Mom came into my room and said, “I just got off the phone with your teacher. Is there something you want to tell me?”

Tears and words came pouring out of me — none of which made any sense. Something about Cold Pricklies, and not cheating, and not wanting to get in trouble, and by the way, I need some more writing tablets. Mom didn’t know what to say. She gave me a hug and tucked me in. That was it.

The only lesson I learned from that experience is to speak up. Speak up. Speak up. Speak up. Oh, and I am a naturally good speller, thank you very much!