“How did you go bankrupt?
Two ways. Gradually, then suddenly.”
Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises
In Fremont, Ohio, you had two options for elementary school: Catholic or Public.
I went to Catholic school. Mom taught 5th grade at one of the public elementary schools.
This duality never mattered until I hit 5th grade and after a month of school noticed the covers of Mom’s textbooks were the same as my own.
Then one weekend in October 1993, I had the house to myself. Dad was outside in his overalls whacking weeds. Mom and E shopping at the mall in Toledo. I was alone with a question to answer.
I gathered my textbooks along with Mom’s and spread them across the yellow carpet that filled our living room. I sat cross-legged with a notebook in my lap, a pen dangling from my mouth, and started to compare.
First math, then English. Followed by Social Studies and Science. I flipped through chapter intros and end of lesson summaries. Read paragraphs from each side-by-side. As I compared, I found they were exact matches except for one critical difference:
Mom’s versions had the answers to every homework assignment, quiz, and end of unit test.
Which meant I now had the answers to every homework assignment, quiz, and end of unit test.
It was like I’d found Nintendo’s Game Genie but for 5th grade schoolwork.
I sat there for a second and stretched my arms high above my head. A little smile crept across my face.
But I wouldn’t fold that easily. Although I had uncovered this gift, I vowed I’d use it only if absolutely necessary. I wouldn’t cheat. I would get through 5th grade honestly.
One week later we had a Social Studies test and for some reason when the class time ended the teacher told us we needed to leave our textbooks in the classroom and that she’d give us an extra 15 minutes the next day to finish the test.
I left school that day fixed on one question from the test. I remember it was about the conquistadors and Cortes and a skirmish with Montezuma. I’d left it blank because I had no answer for it then. But I could have an answer for it once Mom got home with her books.
I walked the few blocks home with my stomach bound up like one of those twisty pretzels from a food court.
I got home and distracted myself. Shot hoops in the driveway. Played the Sega in the basement. Ate dinner with the family and our Dalmatians. Through all of it, my brain tried to conjure one damn answer for that one damn question.
And my heart wrestled with the promise I’d made the weekend before.
The answer never came, so I put myself to bed. Except whenever I closed my eyes I only saw that question staring at me. Calling to me. Pleading with me to answer it. I’d push it away for an instant, only to have images of Mom’s answer key dance into my view. I laid awake for hours.
Then, I heard Mom and Dad go to bed.
And I had a decision to make.
Stay in my room, keep my promise, and take my licks honestly the next day.
Or sneak downstairs, score the answer from Mom’s textbook, and break my vow.
Two minutes later, I snuck the f**k downstairs.
I grabbed Mom’s Social Studies textbook from her bag and flipped to the section about explorers. I found the test and my answer and once I’d started looking I couldn’t stop until I’d memorized every answer to every question.
I felt dirty about what I’d done once I’d finished, so I took a shower before falling comfortably asleep.
The next day, the teacher handed out our test. She said to get started because we had only 15 minutes to finish. I paused a moment before resuming my test. I looked across the class, watched everyone scribbling furiously, and smiled.
Then, I answered my question about Cortes and changed four others.
I got a 100%. That test never stood a chance.
And neither did my math homework that night. Or the following week’s science quiz. I aced my next three English tests, too.
H**l, eventually I got nervous about all the A’s and started missing questions on purpose just to keep things honest.
Still, I never stopped stealing answers.
Friends- if you ask me how I started cheating in 5th grade, I’ll tell you it happened in two ways. Gradually, then suddenly.
We love you.
And we’ll see you when we see you.
Confessions of a Cheater