Writing Class Learns Much More

By Cindy Reitzi

October 2004

One of the stranger truths I know is that sooner or later each of us will be lied to. I don’t mean a lie to get out of trouble or a white lie to spare someone’s feelings; I mean a stupid lie... a lie as large as Everest…just to see if the liar can.

Over the years, I’ve experienced more than my karmic share of liars and cons.

In my 20s, I got taken after a small-time con befriended me, stole my checks, and forged them to pay bills or pad her bank account. Turns out, I wasn’t alone. Ex-friends, old roommates, and her fellow members of AA all had stories to tell. Thankfully, my bank insured the amount and I wasn’t completely ripped off and ruined. With great satisfaction, I turned her in to the police and gloated. I never wanted to hurt someone more in my life.

I thought my “magnetic appeal” to the riffraff was over until last year it happened again – twice.

This time around, I was not conned, because over the years I have analyzed the patterns of liars and my “liar radar” sniffed out the perpetrators. Today, if I listen closely to my instincts, I can usually spot a liar at 20 paces. In my latest encounter, I discovered in time that one of the my suspect liars was indeed a convicted felon.

Frustrated at this apparent déjà vu, I spewed about it in my personal journal. After writing imaginatively about all the requisite destruction, mayhem, and reckless dismemberment that liars deserve, my head was cleared. Catharsis.

It just so happened, I was teaching two writing sections at the time, struggling with how to teach the famed “compare-contrast essay.” With a little editing, I mused, I could use my journal writing as a sample: Liars vs. Truthtellers. Indeed, when I reviewed my journal “rantings,” they were actually a coherent distillation of techniques the ethically handicapped use to lie or tell half-truths. An informal how-to-spot-a-liar handbook, if you will. What a great teachable moment about “writing from life” for my students.

As with many good teaching experiments, there’s always a risk it won’t work. When sharing your writing, you also risk personal vulnerability as a writer. Some teachers are hesitant to open themselves up that much, but I decided it was worth the gamble. I’d give it 50-50 results.

When I read my sample aloud, it bluntly stunned one class (the reserved, scholar corps) but dazzled another (the emotional-diversity borderlands troop).

I really loved both classes, but the “corps” fixed on me a strained, too-polite-to-ask look like, “Why are we doing this?” They stared at me as if to ask, “Ms. Reitzi, did you forget to take your meds or something?” They seemed uncomfortable. This was too “personal” perhaps. So I wrapped things up quickly.

For the “borderlands troop,” on the other hand, my journal writing sample was a proffered baton in a relay race. They ran with it. Discussion gushed forth in a torrent, zigzagging in wildly different directions.

“Whoa, Ms. Reitzi, how’d you find out that guy was a convicted felon?”

“Well, a friend helped me check court records and I called the police. A very nice officer did a background check for me.”

“You know, there are Web sites where you can check if someone has a criminal background,” contributed one student and gave an example.

“Yeah, I checked up on my dad once. He has a record,” offered one of my best students. Her blunt honesty temporarily silenced me.

“Oh, I…I’m sorry,” I sympathized. She shrugged as though she had already reconciled this fact but appreciated my attempt.

Her honesty encouraged yet more participation.

Some students suggested edits on my draft. This was a great opportunity for modeling revision because many high school students have a hard time critiquing each others’ papers. They don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.

“It’s a rough draft,” one of my students defended me.

“That’s OK,” I consoled, “I like feedback.”

The lesson, it turned out, was not about compare-contrast essays. It was about writing from life experiences. It was a warning about liars. But mostly, it was a lesson about trust.

If there’s one thing I know, it’s that there’s no good reason for liars to exist in the world except to make us thankful for honest people. And perhaps that is the lesson liars teach us: cherish those you trust because trust is a gift.

Posted September 30, 2004