This was one of those lo's that I knew I had to do. Warning...the journaling is a book! Had fun with the blending on the pic. TFL! (Fixed the black lines IRL) Journaling:Life lesson #73: When you do something you know is wrong, take responsibility for your actions and do what you can to make it right.
Now that you are in first grade, you have a spelling test every Thursday. On Fridays, you have a pre-test for the following week’s words. If you get all the words right on the pre-test, you are sent home with challenge words to practice. You have aced every test, so I wasn’t surprised when you came home with challenge words (Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday). We practiced a few times, but I never made sure you knew them all, partly because I didn’t think you would be tested on them (ok, here’s the part where I take some personal responsibility in this story). When you came home on Thursday, you informed me that you were tested on the challenge words and that you got them all right! What? How did you remember how to spell Wednesday? And Tuesday? And Thursday? But, sure enough, you showed me your test with a “WOW!” from the teacher, and all the words spelled correctly. Of course I was very proud of you and there were hugs and high fives. Fast forward to bedtime. You asked me if I knew how you got all the words right. I was a little apprehensive as I asked you how you did it. Well, it seems that every student has a sticker strip across their desk. Some have the alphabet, some have numbers, and the little boy next to you has the days of the week. I immediately showed my shock and disappointment as I explained that was cheating! You, in turn, immediately started crying and repeating over and over “I’m sorry, mommy! I’m sorry!” Until that point, the only talk we’d ever had about cheating was when you would stack the cards when playing Candyland, or some other game infraction. The consequences were never too severe, I just wouldn’t play with you if you were going to cheat. But this wasn’t a game. And the consequences were going to be more severe. You were going to have to tell your teacher what you did and that you were sorry. Fast forward again to Friday morning. You were very quiet and laid on the floor with your hands between your legs until it was time to go. On the way to school, you remained very quiet and very wide-eyed. When I asked you what you were going to say, you said your brain didn’t have the words - could I help you? I told you to tell the truth and I would be there with you. As we walked into school, I had to drag you along. By the time we walked into the class, your ski cap was down over your face. You had tears in your eyes as I helped you explain what you had done. Your teacher was understanding and acknowledged how hard it was to tell her that. She was happy you told the truth and the relief on your face was priceless. When we walked out of the class, I hugged you and you told me you felt much better and that you would never do that again. As I watched you walk down the hall, I wiped the tears from my eyes and smiled with pride at the way you handled a very tough lesson.