Letter 43

The Honesty Load

Dear Reader,

When my son was in second grade his class took a field trip to a history museum. Later that day a mother who was a chaperone sent me a message. She said that my son asked the tour guide a question about the books in the museum and when the guide emphasized something generic because they likely did not know the answer that my son looked puzzled and started looking around at everyone else, like “this guide doesn’t know what they are talking about.” The other mom found it amusing.

Somewhere along in life, either out of apathy, or just exhaustion, we might stop looking around seeking confirmation when encountering a lesser-truth.

Honesty, integrity, doing the ethical “right” thing is hard. It takes extra effort to do a sequence of events when rules apply as opposed to an easier way that gets us there quicker without following the rules. And, hey, if no one is looking, or no one cares …

Yesterday I opened the link to the online New York Times and said out loud what I am always thinking: “Thank God for the journalists who are recording this and calling this out. I hope they are tagging in and out as necessary because just as a reader I feel tired and unnerved at the arrogance and cowardice continually wrecking the values and standards I thought most Americans shared.”

I probably sound like a grouchy middle-ager, who, like my second-grade son is continually looking around for a kindred spirit, who isn’t going along with someone’s idea spilling with BS veiled in virtue. That’s me in the back, on the other end of the group text chain, wondering “is anyone else hearing this?” “C’mon, something’s not right here.”

More broadly, artificial intelligence is making life and information seeking easier and more efficient in some ways. But it is also allowing for students, creators, to turn in work that they did not do on their own. If they credit the AI source, well, good on them. But we are still in the early stages of how everyone feels about how this is used and who gets the recognition. Shouldn’t this matter?

My two teenagers are continually navigating honesty in their daily lives. One of the games in my son’s class allows cheating as long as you don’t get caught. I am pretty sure it is a test of ethics and integrity. “Things would be so much easier if we just plugged everything into AI,” he has told me, likely lightly poking me a bit, as I rant about originality and using the keyboard. And search tools. And critical thinking.

To be honest, or to use another phrase common in youthful texts - ngl (not gonna lie), I fail sometimes in all the truthfulness. We all do. We can’t go to all the invitations. We can’t smile at all the events. Or find all the jokes and stories funny and worthy of an acknowledgment.

But on my more energetic days I will try to insist on honesty from the students I see without hall passes, and check up on my kids when they say they are doing something. I will try to live true to my values as people and groups go in different directions.

I will keep rooting for you all, too, as you brace the waves that leave you unsettled and unbalanced, the world askew, waiting for Dr. King’s moral universe arc to bend closer to justice.

Since it’s March Madness, and I spent many childhood summers reading biographies of basketball greats, I will give you one from legendary UCLA coach John Wooden: “The truth may sometimes sting, but it’s always a lighter burden than the weight of deception.”

Peace and love to you,

Traci