I’m a young 7th grade boy just arriving to my first class of the day in homeroom 7B. It’s about 7:58 AM, sometime in mid-October. As I sit down in my chair and adjust myself to my desk, I realize that I’d forgotten to due a homework assignment in my vocabulary book. I was struck by that sudden feeling as if your heart dropped and your insides flipped upside down. I never miss a homework assignment, or so I thought. While pondering the consequences that I would face, not in my grade, but from my mother it suddenly hit me: copy the answers from somebody else, or in other words, cheat. At the time I believed my actions to be harmless because I was doing them for what I thought were the right intentions. However, I would soon regret my decision.
“Hey Caroline,” I whispered to the short brunette girl assigned to the seat next to me.
“What!” she shouted back; she wasn’t the kindest of girls.
“Let me see your vocabulary book. I forgot to do the homework,” I begged her.
“Well… alright,” she retorted reluctantly. She proceeded to take out her vocabulary book and place it on my desk. The stealthy child that I believed I was, I slowly moved her book from my desk onto my chair so that I could discreetly complete my overdue assignment. About thirty seconds go by and the principles voice sounds from the intercom, commencing morning announcements. However, this did not stop me as I pushed on, desperately trying to continue my mission. I was writing faster, thinking clearer, seeing the world from every level. Surely I would complete my assignment without being detected.
I like to think that life has its ways of evening the score; it does so in many ways, shapes and forms, and I learned this on that mid-October day. During announcements, everyone is supposed to stand, halt all movements, and listen intently. Everyone was following these instructions except for me, but I figured that I was so nonchalant that I wouldn’t be recognized. Well, out of the corner of my eye I saw a humanoid figure moving towards me, increasing its pace by the step, and I began to see Caroline’s head shift in the direction of the figure. Seconds later, a hand marked by a diamond ring on the third finger snatched my book. As my eyes begin to look up and my heart accelerates, I find the disgusted face of Mrs. Blackert. My mind races, pondering all of the consequences I would face, but there was one particular punishment that I feared the most: the rage of my mother. I beg my teacher to have a heart, but even her favorite student couldn’t be pardoned from the petty crime of cheating. I don’t know what went slower, the minute hand on the clock that day or watching Mrs. Blackert’s hand write my detention.
The moment that I feared for eight hours finally arrived when I looked into my mothers eyes through her car window across the parking lot. I try to open the door as slowly as I could, but it wouldn’t save me from the berating I was about to face. She didn’t say anything for quite a while, but watched me as I stared out into the parking lot. Finally, she opens her mouth and says, “Don’t do it again.” I wait a couple of seconds for a follow up scolding, but none came. I can’t believe it. My mother didn’t even raise her voice, let alone yell at me and I deserved every ounce of her rage; a turn of events I’ll hold with me forever. She knew I was afraid, and that I regretted my decision, and for those reasons she decided not to yell at me.
A mother’s kindness can provide the most essential life lessons, and if there’s one thing I’ll never do again, its cheat. This I believe, that a mothers love is the most important educator for a child. I’ve learned from my mistakes, and I haven’t cheated since that day seven years ago.
