The Truth and a Lie − 1 May, 1995

Due to the overwhelming popularity of the student newspaper, all 8th graders were required to submit their "Favorite Memories" to their homeroom teacher. Anticipating that my mousy computer teacher, whose name I can't recall, wouldn't actually make us turn the paper in, I only half-answered the questions. I was studious, but was I really going to tell the entire school my "most embarrassing moment" or "worst memory"? I don't think so. Come roll-call, however, Ms. Whatshername caught a jolt of lion and insisted that we all turn in the questionnaire. I'm certain that everyone else just wrote random words and turned their crumbled sheets in, but not me. I was on a mission for straight As: Dad promised me a CD player if I made it. Scrambling around to finish, I was caught between telling the truth - and quite possibly getting sent to the principal's - or making something up on the fly. Of course, in those hurried two minutes, all I could hear was the clock ticking and any alternative embarrassing moment that may have occurred over the last three years flew the coop. I was left to lie, and lie I did. "It was so embarrassing at this track meet where I ran face-first into a tree right by the finishing line! Everyone saw and I was mortified." Fast forward one month. Every 8th grader is clutching their final copy of the newspaper and crying out teary good-byes (it was summer for christ's sake. I mean yeah, we were graduating but we were all going to high school together!) when Chris Hack stops me. "Did you really run into a tree?" he asked, grinning. Forced to face my lie head-on, I chose the coward's way out. "Yep!" I said, laughing. "Nearly twisted my ankle in the process!" It's funny how such minor events influence and shape us in such profound ways. I can't say I haven't lied since, but I remember that newspaper issue now when I have a decision between the truth and a lie.