Here’s a brutal truth. Kids lie. Kids lie all the time. I’m not saying all kids lie all the time, but if there’s something to be gained by lying, and they think they won’t get caught, they’ll lie. Kids lie on tests, why they were late, and who should be the prom-queen. I am surrounded by liars. I treat the lies like dodgeballs. Most I ignore, some hit me, and every once in a while I catch one.
And when I catch a lie, not only is the kid getting out, the kid gets to experience an almost fatal dose of shame. I say this shamelessly.
At the beginning of each month I create a fitness workout the entire school must complete. I draw it up on a whiteboard and students complete an increasingly difficult version of it every single Monday. At the end of the month they must complete the final version of the workout with a partner who judges them, and the judge records the time that they finish. The time correlates to a grade. Faster times equal better grades.
Now, as discussed before, I know that kids cheat. I try to mix up the judges and keep friends from helping their friends “perform” better on the test, but inevitably, some of these kids cheat and the judges let it slide. In an effort to counteract this I test the workout.
Here’s the workout.
Is the workout impossible? Absolutely not. But to get an A you’re going to have to make it hurt. You can see in the upper left hand corner of the picture I scored a 3:56, on the workout. It wasn’t exactly a long workout, but it stung, and by the end my lungs burned and I and I wanted to stop. To me, this is all data. I took my score and created the grade scale (essentially you get a 100 if you beat me) and I know what state of pain a kid should be in when they complete the workout.
Which is why when a kid we’ll call “J” came up to me all peachy and normal and not dying and proceeded to hand his test paper claiming he finished the workout in 4:00 flat, I knew I had just caught a lying mothafucka. I said, “J, why are you lying to me?” He looked at me with wide innocent eyes and said, “What? I’m not lying to you.” I gave him a flat stare, “Now you're doubling down on your lie. I don’t like that.” He ran to grab his judge that we’ll call Mike. Then he said, “Mike, didn’t I do the workout in 4:00 minutes?” And Mike confirmed.
Now I had two kids lying to me, but it was time for some trickery. When you get a real committed liar, sometimes you have to tease the lie out. So I said, “Tell you what J, I still think you’re lying. How about we pretend you got a 4:40 and I give you an 18/20? What do ya think?” He immediately agreed.
And that’s how I knew he was lying.
“Ya see J, I already knew you were lying because you didn’t even break a sweat, but now I definitely know you're lying because you’re willing to take a grade lower than the one you swear you deserve.” He looked confused for a second and then he said, “Noooo, I just felt like there was no way to convince you that I did it in four minutes! I’m not not lying!”
At this point a lot of the class had gathered around listening to the discussion, so I played the next card up my sleeve. “Tell you what J, if you do the workout again and finish it in 4:00 then not only will I give you an A+, I’ll give you fifty bucks.” That got a roar of excitement from the class. “Yooooooo, you gotta take his money!” “Yo! Take that, you gotta take that!”
“What do ya say, J?”
The whole class was chanting at him to do it. He backed up a bit and said, “Well, I just did it. I’m pretty tired. How about tomorrow?” I said, “Sure.” If he was banking on me forgetting, the poor kid was oh so wrong.
Test Day
There’s something you should know about me as a teacher. I talk smack. After seven years in Harlem you learn your way around how to make fun of kids while still keeping your job. So when I catch a kid in a lie, you know that kid is going to come under a verbal assault.
“Hey Liaaaarrrr,” I say to J the moment he walks through the gymnasium door the next day. I say it playfully, but I also make sure the whole gym can hear me. Everyone’s ear’s prick up and one kid yells out, “Yo J! Take his money!” I say “oh yeah, my money’s in real danger. The best athlete in the school is about to teach me a lesson.” My voice drips with sarcasm as I stare down all five foot six inches of J. J doesn’t say a word but he heads over to the Echo bike and the class follows to watch.
“By the way J, no kid is judging you. I am.”
The kid visibly gulps and sits down on the Echo bike.
Quick note on the Echo bike: if you’ve ever had the unfortunate pleasure of experiencing this god-forsaken piece of equipment then you already know the sensation I’m about to describe. For those of you who haven’t experienced the Echo bike let’s just put it this way - pushing hard on the Echo when you’re untrained is kind of like putting out one hundred cigarette buds on both your quads at the same time. The words “searing flesh” come to mind. It’s called the devil’s tricycle for a reason.
A classmate sets the timer, and then yells out “THREE, TWO, ONE, GOOOOO!” and J gives it everything he’s got. As he starts to increase the RPMs on the bike it begins to make a noise like a whirring chainsaw, and for a brief moment, I start to wonder if I’m about to lose 50 bucks.
He finishes ten calories and hops off the bike breathing hard. He charges over to the other side of the gym and immediately starts doing burpees. He’s moving well, and just as he’s about to convince me that maybe, just maybe, I was wrong about his score, he stands up after the tenth burpee and wobbles three steps to the side like someone just punched him in the face.
There it is.
I grin.
As he starts a half jog - half shuffle towards the bike for the second round, I glance over at the clock. It reads 1:20. I put on my fake happy teacher voice, “J! You’re doing so great! You’re exactly on pace to get 4 minutes. Allllll you have to do is keep up the exact same pace for two more rounds.” I give him two thumbs up and a big fake grin. His hoarse breath is the only answer I receive.
When he sits down on the bike for the second round, I know it’s over…but his classmates have no idea. The entire first round they were encouraging him on, and pushing him to go fast. When they saw he was on pace for 4:00 in the first round they redoubled their cheers, “Schuerch gonna lose his moneyyyyyy!” As J attempted to find the power to push the intense amount of lactic acid coursing through his quads, I give him a sarcastic cheer, “C’mon J! You’re doing great! Take my money!”
The J who had started the first round might as well have been an alien compared to the J who started the second round. First round J had vitality; he pushed the bike hard. Second round J had gone slightly pale and was close to hyperventilation. He could barely get the pedals moving. Once he got going you could see defeat in his eyes. He knew It was over.
Still, he gave it what he had until he couldn’t, and right around the fifth calorie he yelled out, “I can’t take it anymore!” and flopped off the bike and laid down on his back with his stomach rising and falling with hyperventilated gasps. What a drama queen.
As the class walked away in disgust, I yelled out my 50 dollar offer to anyone else who wanted to try. No one replied, and I gave a great big laugh. Then I walked over to J who’s still heaving breaths through his mouth. “You alright?” I asked. He said yeah. Then I said, “Don’t ever lie to me again J.”
I gave him a 15/20. He lied, but the sheer commitment to the lie had given me a giggle. Kid got a great two minute workout in.
*Before the internet completely throws my teaching reputation into a dumpster fire, let it be known, this kid asked me to write his college recommendation.
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You still betting those 50 ???
Dude, another GREAT post. Without a doubt, the funniest yet.