“Richie, it’s time.”
Opening the door to my bedroom, my mom’s way of rousing me to start my day was far more effective than any standard alarm clock. When my mom woke me for school, she was usually interrupting eight to nine hours of pure beauty sleep. This particular morning was the first time I experienced not wanting to wake from the comfort of my slumber. I would have welcomed the end of days. Thankfully I can count on two hands how many times I’ve felt that way since. I regularly allotted myself about 15 minutes of prep time to catch the school bus so there was never much time for contemplation. This day, I wanted to figure a way to push off my awaited fate another day. Looking back I’m surprised that in seventh grade I realized that no matter how bad you screw up it’s always less painful to face the music as quickly as possible. With that thought in mind I pounced out of my warm bed and into the stark coldness of the dark January morning. With gritted teeth I boarded my ride ready to run straight into whatever consequences lay ahead for my having been caught red-handed the day before.
The hallways were filled with the usual congestion as third period was turning into fourth.
Like most students I would make a stop at my locker to exchange books I no longer needed to ones needed for the next class. The hour glass of time remaining for me to meet my “Waterloo” was only three minutes away. Up until yesterday my 12 years on earth had gone on without so much as a hiccup. One mistake, and suddenly a confident well- adjusted kid felt exposed and disgraced. An incident borne out of laziness could quite possibly disrupt my academic standing and reputation. I slowly made my way up the stairs to the top floor of the New Paltz Middle School. I could feel the weight of all evils in the universe on my shoulders as I sheepishly dragged my way through the door of Miss Heude’s Honors French Class.
What a difference a day makes. I had definitely been riding high in my confined corner of the world. I was enjoying a small moment in time, when my physical late-blooming had yet to be noticed, because my classmates hadn’t started their own growth spurts of maturity just yet. I was a relatively popular kid, who also happened to perform pretty well in the halls of academia. While I confess there were many times in my life I opted for the easy way out, in most cases I was prepared and on top of my school work. Being in all the honors classes and trying to keep up with all that went along with it was very challenging for me. Dana Lyons, Jane McKenna, Peter Morrison, Cherie Kidd, Peter Mancuso, Morris Bassik, and Lynn Nyquist were all smart kids and excellent students. I wanted to gain acceptance from that crowd as a diligent and serious scholar. Even in my pre-teen years I wanted to be so much more than “Richie Siegel-dumb jock” .
I made my way to the back of the room and took my seat next to Eileen Gagnon. The students in this French class had just taken two major tests in English and Social Studies the periods prior, so this little French vocabulary quiz should not have been that big of a deal. I had studied hard for the two exams in my two favorite disciplines. To save myself the rigors that went along with memorizing a bunch of foreign words, I constructed a “cheat sheet” with the words spelled out clearly. Our desks had openings to place extraneous items inside them. After a quick glance around the room, I stuck my prepared answers inside my table top into perfect position for my thieving eyes. Miss Heude, stood just about five feet tall in high heels. For a tiny woman I remember Denise Heude as a formidable teacher with a large voice. Regardless of how low learning the French language was on my priority list, Miss Heude had convinced us all that for the time we were in her classroom French was the premier subject at hand.
“Clear your desks and take out a sheet of paper,” she directed, “First word- Laissez-moi, laissez-moi.”
There was going to be a total of 20 words on this vocabulary exercise. Miss Heude was halfway through the list of terms and I was executing my indiscretion with ease. I rationalized to myself that this was not cheating, it was just a way of skirting around a trivial task for which I had no time. By word number 18, “maintenant”, Miss Heude headed for a direction of the room where she never ventured- the back end. Now with the teacher standing behind me I could feel my knees begin to knock into each other. “Maintenant,” Miss Heude repeated. Then, as fast as a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat, a small hand reached around me and snatched the evidence of my cheating. In the immediate moment, I felt like I had been kicked in the stomach, even harder than when I had discovered Kristen Grant liked Danny Moss more than me. I was caught, plain and simple. A scoundrel, soon to be exposed to my peers as a fraud.
When the bell rang the next day, the 24 hour period of awaiting my public humiliation was over. Miss Heude had yesterday’s quiz results in her hand ready to distribute. Although I could never repeat the words verbatim her pre-class announcement was powerful enough to impact at least one student’s life. The rest of the class probably didn’t have a clue as to the motivation of the speech, let alone any memory of it.
“Integrity is by far more important than results. Short cuts and deception will lead to long term pain. Reputation is who others think you are, character is who you know you are.”
I got my paper back with a huge F covering the page. I received my lone C in my middle school career in French that marking period. Miss Heude never mentioned the incident and to this day I believe she and I were the only ones who were aware of the embarrassment I had caused myself. I wish I could say I never cheated again after the that incident. I wish I could say I would never be dishonest again. Miss Heude’s words were undeniably meaningful to me but the truth is, they didn’t turn me immediately into “The Messiah” . I took from the experience a very clear lesson in winning and losing. A lesson of reputation and character. It’s a subject in which I am in the middle of the learning process. I have always been a very slow learner, but a learner nonetheless. Thank You Miss Heude and Repose en Paix.
