Whether it is true, or my misconception I don’t know, but it appears to me lying never pays off. Sometimes it takes months of investigation to unearth the truth, but eventually it gets revealed. Not all Politicians and public figures seem to understand this.
Most of us have embellished stories, exaggerated events, and told white lies to protect someone’s feelings, we each have our own perspective but the adage “honesty pays“ is something which I believe.
As a youngster I was fortunate to have a lesson in how sharing my mistakes and owning up as quickly as possible was not only the correct and ethical thing to do, but the most valuable.
One of my most significant memories was when my father, a keen photographer, had saved to buy himself a new camera. Early one morning before our parents woke, I was showing it to my brother. I pushed a button to open the camera, but then could not find how to close it. Eventually this resulted in my trying to force the concertina lens back into the case. It ruined the camera which he had not even used! I did not dare tell him but later he found out and asked. I anticipated severe punishment.
Instead, he quietly told me next time you have done something you cannot correct; don’t t try to fix it yourself, then hide it, tell me. I was never punished but carried that guilt for years, which of course was my punishment. After that I owned up to my mistakes.
My next real test was as a residential student at an orphanage.
I was enrolled in a two-year course for early childhood education to earn a NNEB certificate. During the third term of our first year, we were encouraged to take the children to the nearby park to play. There was a small zoo, an attractive shallow pond, lots grass where they could happily run and let off steam. It was one of our favourite afternoon activities. My dear friend Wendy and I would take the allocated children, a baby in a big English pram and two toddlers, six charges between us.
One beautiful summer day while the children played, we turned our faces to the sun and relaxed. Those few seconds of inattention led to disaster.
Brian, my four-year-old toddler, took the brake off the pram where the baby slept, pushed it down the hill as it rapidly sped toward the pond, Brian had lost control and I could not catch it.
I can still feel the tightening in my stomach as I realized it was too late to prevent the inevitable. The pram slid gracefully into the pond causing quite the splash and the wheels stuck in the mud; reaching the pram to retrieve the baby, I waded into ankle deep muddy water. The baby, luckily unharmed looked a bit surprised, but he was fine.
The mud splattered my pristine white, starched apron; and as water seeped into the pram it tipped sideways. The pram cover was strewn with dead leaves, slimy green algae, and a small hopping frog. It was a mess. Wendy by now had all four children in her care as I wrestled to get the pram out of the pond.
In our distinctive uniforms we were very visible, and everyone nearby knew who we were. A growing number of onlookers stood well back gawking at us disapprovingly, no offer of help as I tried pulled the pram out trying to look calm and in control.
We hastened back to the college where I knew my first task was to go directly to the principal and tell her, before she heard the inevitable complaints from the witnessing crowd. One look at me and she knew a catastrophe had occurred, my shoes squelched, my tear-stained face and mud splattered apron, being the clues.
Part way through my confession the phone rang. Miss Manley, our principal, an aging spinster who had a permanent frown and tight clenched mouth, ran a very tight ship. She listened for a few seconds, then interrupted. “Yes, thank you for calling, she has told me all about it, we are dealing with it.” As she hung up, she told me to finish my explanation.
She asked what I had learned from it all, what did I expect to come next? I answered I had learned it only takes a second of inattention for a potential disaster to occur, especially with young children and I expected her to call my father and tell him I had been expelled.
She smiled, “you are here to learn, today you did that. I have witnessed your loving care of our orphaned children, they need that. I do not wish to lose you; you have the makings of an excellent English nanny.”
“But”, she smiled again ”the most important thing is you were honest enough to tell me the truth with no excuses or blame to anyone else, and that is even more valuable, thank you. Now go and clean yourself up and we will not mention this again.”
I expressed my gratitude for her attitude, was very thankful and told her first I’d check on Wendy, who was bathing the baby, then I’d clean the pram.
Still, 65 years later I recall every detail of that lesson, of how badly I had misjudged Miss Manley and how valuable it was to tell the truth. Since then, I have tried to give my perspective and confess my mistakes before it’s broadcast, and possibly misinterpreted by another party. Hearing others share their vulnerabilities often offers others some comfort, as we all make mistakes.
A lesson a few politicians and public figures might learn, the truth almost always shows up eventually. That day I learned my lesson, it pays to admit your failings and mistakes before others misconstrue them.
