Relate an event or situation in your life where your personal sense of honor influenced you or guided your actions.
I walked towards the back of the room to begin taking the test that I had missed days before when I was out sick from school. The teacher handed me the test and as I scanned the front page a strong pang of guilt hit me. This was not a makeup test as I had planned on it being. It was the same test the rest of the class had taken. The guilt grew with each answer that I confidently circled. I was sure to get an A, wasn't it worth it? I finished in no time flat, sure of my work. I didn't want to seem like I finished too quickly though so I flipped from page to page, pretending to review my answers. After an appropriate amount of time had passed, I waked back to the front of the room, handed the test to my teacher, and took my seat to learn the day's lesson. As he flipped through the power point I could not get my off what I had just done. Was the A truly worth the guilt of cheating? It would assure me an A for the semester. How could I pass that up?
After class I knew what I had to do. Yes, I could easily get away with this. I could walk out of the room and come back the next day with bright red A drawn on the top of my paper, probably with a comment of good work, or great job. What I could not do however was live with the guilt. I lingered in the door way after the bell rang and wait for my peers to file out of the class room. "What can I help you with Elizabeth?" my teacher asked. Slowly I explained to him how I had gotten one of my friends test, thinking that the one I would be taking would be different, as they normally were. I explained to him that I thought this would be a great way of studying, cheating maybe, but no real guilt and no way of getting caught. As I listened to the words flow from my lips I could not believe I was having to explain something like this to anyone. This wasn't me. I don't cheat. I don't lie. How could I have broken my standards of honor for myself simply by being lazy? I was ashamed.
My teacher forgave me, thanked me for my honesty, and gave me a real makeup test to take. He told me I did the right thing but despite his reassurance, his comforts were hollow to me. I should have never had to tell him that. I should have never given up something that I pried so much in myself just to make my studying easier. It is a mistake that I never plan to make again and regardless of the threats of punishment. My own feeling of self-guilt will far out weight the consequences that I would have to face.
I walked towards the back of the room to begin taking the test that I had missed days before when I was out sick from school. The teacher handed me the test and as I scanned the front page a strong pang of guilt hit me. This was not a makeup test as I had planned on it being. It was the same test the rest of the class had taken. The guilt grew with each answer that I confidently circled. I was sure to get an A, wasn't it worth it? I finished in no time flat, sure of my work. I didn't want to seem like I finished too quickly though so I flipped from page to page, pretending to review my answers. After an appropriate amount of time had passed, I waked back to the front of the room, handed the test to my teacher, and took my seat to learn the day's lesson. As he flipped through the power point I could not get my off what I had just done. Was the A truly worth the guilt of cheating? It would assure me an A for the semester. How could I pass that up?
After class I knew what I had to do. Yes, I could easily get away with this. I could walk out of the room and come back the next day with bright red A drawn on the top of my paper, probably with a comment of good work, or great job. What I could not do however was live with the guilt. I lingered in the door way after the bell rang and wait for my peers to file out of the class room. "What can I help you with Elizabeth?" my teacher asked. Slowly I explained to him how I had gotten one of my friends test, thinking that the one I would be taking would be different, as they normally were. I explained to him that I thought this would be a great way of studying, cheating maybe, but no real guilt and no way of getting caught. As I listened to the words flow from my lips I could not believe I was having to explain something like this to anyone. This wasn't me. I don't cheat. I don't lie. How could I have broken my standards of honor for myself simply by being lazy? I was ashamed.
My teacher forgave me, thanked me for my honesty, and gave me a real makeup test to take. He told me I did the right thing but despite his reassurance, his comforts were hollow to me. I should have never had to tell him that. I should have never given up something that I pried so much in myself just to make my studying easier. It is a mistake that I never plan to make again and regardless of the threats of punishment. My own feeling of self-guilt will far out weight the consequences that I would have to face.
