Integrity

There has been a backlash in support of integrity both at work lately and in the world. The word "accountable" has been so overused as of late that I am dubious that anyone knows what it is, how to do it and if they are themselves being held to the standard they are prosthelizing to.

It has offered me the chance to take a step back and evaluate my own disproportionate sense of right and responsibility. My mom told me a while ago that they didn't feel the need to discipline me as any punishment they would have assigned was nothing compared to the guilt, regret and remonstrations I would afflict on myself (though most assuredly my mom didn't use remonstrations!). She said I was over responsible as a child. I would ask before I crossed the street, call when I got there then called when I was leaving. Yah...I figure I was pretty bad in past lives.

On the day Nixon was pardoned by Ford (that just makes me laugh to type that, not due to the political maelstrom it represented, but just shows how damn old I am) I remember being in the principal's office for cheating (the irony is not lost on me...probably why I remembered it as of late). It was so traumatic to me that I cannot recall what I did, nor do I recall what the punishment was. I remember us sitting there watching the "event" on a global tv and in my little head was the catastrophic doom of what I had done. So, I wrote my mom a note. She saved so much over the years that I can't fathom why she didn't save THIS one. I know we were bussed but in my memory I was running home in that After School Special-type run with my book bag trailing me and the note in my hand. First struggle with this memory is that I have always been pudgy, and I am sure I didn't run even then. I throw open the door, tears streaking down my sweaty, dirty cheeks(cuz that is what they do in After School Specials) and ran to my mom. I remember her asking me what was wrong and I, in between sobs, gave her the note, apologized and ran out the door. Yup...still an overreactor.

Honestly I can't recall what I did or what my mom said. I can't recall a punishment. Nor do I recall what the school did. All I remember is I cheated and was caught. And I still torture myself...nah not really but it is there as a lasting memory.

In contrast, I was taking computer class in college (1985 to give you perspective on the computer class I was taking....I remember being baffled by a word processor a few geeky friends had me try...lol). I was living away for this year in the dorm...co-ed dorm (is pertinent to the story). We had to write a flow chart thing of sorts for an atm. The idea of the exercise was to learn actually how many steps had to be realized in programming. We had to turn in the paper to the professor to the box on his office door.

This was agonizing for me. Like I said, 1985. There were truly 3 computers in our smallish dorm. In the geek room. So up I trudged to see the boys. I remember Pete (who is now in the CIA) trying to help me, but I am sure doing it moreso at his level thus creating an explosion in my head. I remember toiling over several drafts to figure out this thing I couldn't get. Whether Ros told me or I just did it, I gave up & turned in the pathetic attempt figuring I would fail this but learn. So we walked through campus I turned it in, and I stewed.

4 of us were called after class to the professors office. I figured I really must have fucked things up. Yah....we were under review for expulsion for plagerism. I am laughing typing this now. All of those hours where I didn't know what I was doing...and it was on all 4 papers EXACTLY the same. I swear...as I did then to the professor...that the work was mine. He showed us all 4 papers and they were exactly the same, again I protested my innocence. He was dubious, naturally. I was catatonic. So he told us to prove it.

Looking back now, it must have truly been a difficult assignment as if these poor other people (who I didn't know) saw my ever so valiant efforts struggling confidently in the box as a salvation. Sad. I laugh at that. It was drama to me. Thrown out of school for plagerism? But it was my work! I went through the trash in my room and I went through the main trash in the dorm. I remember it taking a while but I am sure not as long as it is playing in my head now. But I found my pre works. I went to the professor's office (I am sure again with the distance to his office covered in the After School Special run) with I am sure a tear streaked (cuz even in college they do that) face with my proof in my hand. I would love to have remembered his face when I handed him the (YES) pizza stained proof that I had not only fucked up the project once BUT had rough drafts of previous fucked up attempts! Guaranteed in his head he was laughing. But he asured me I was exonerated.

I remember on the way home talking to whomever felt like being the angel of support who followed, being incredulous..."I was so wrong, why would ANYONE copy that shit?". To this day I am still baffled at someone else's sad insecurities that when they saw my paper, they changed it thinking it was GREAT! Laugh.

Integrity to me has become in tandem with rules. Codes of conduct, rights & responsibilities, and judges vs what it truly is....an internal gauge of what you will and won't do at your core. I struggle when my integrity is challenged....especially when it comes to caring for people. But I think it is something which starts young and is either built or destroyed by subsequent years and experiences. I hope that we get back to that. Currently to me...accountability is pointing to see who else can either go down with you or for you.

Be great to you!
H