The $50 Beer. The $50,000,000 Lie.

Are we emphasizing the wrong things? As parents we tell our children how great it is that they’re smart, ignoring both the genetic component of intelligence and the privileged backgrounds we lovingly provide. We tell our kids how proud we are that they scored the winning goal in the U-10 soccer game when that same congratulatory message in available from teammates and coaches. We tell our kids how great it is that they are physically attractive. As if cuteness were some goal that they had persevered to accomplish. But when was the last time you heard someone talk about the moral development of your kids?

I heard about a young man recently who may have overpaid for a beer. From what I can tell, he had no history of tearing down the door of gas station bathrooms when sober. So I’m going to go out on a limb here and suggest that his judgment was impaired by alcohol. To repair the door cost fifty bucks. Pay up and there’s no story. That’s it. We’re done here. Move along. Nothing to see. Everybody go home.

Unless of course the young man, in a cover up effort that makes the Watergate cluster look sophisticated by comparison, lied about what happened. In every particular. Lied, lied, lied. Bathing suit a smoldering mass of charcoal, never mind pants on fire. Subsequent drunken prevarications followed by an ever-changing sequence of sober lies that cost him–this is just my best guess here–fifty million dollars.

Because before the–we were attacked by Brazilian ballerinas with tubas then kidnapped by nine-foot tall Amish women or whatever it was–lie, the young man could anticipate a fortune in endorsements. Now, not so much. Wheaties won’t pay a million dollars to put the picture of a liar on their cereal box. Nike won’t pay a million dollars to put a liar in their TV shoe commercials. Budweiser won’t pay a million dollars to put a liar up on one of those cute horses. What opportunities remain? From where will the sponsorship dollars come? Maybe the National Liars Association with pick up this guy as their spokesperson. Oh, wait a minute. There is no such organization. And if there were, they wouldn’t want him either.

It is not an exaggeration to suggest that the story about the Amish women and their tubas from Neptune diminished lifetime earning by the amount of money that a teacher earns in just under a thousand years of standing on her feet all day and grading tests on the weekends.

“I’d rather have an honest C than a cheating A.” I would certainly hope so. But I don’t see a lot of that notion these past 40 years since I’m been banging around in education world.

I was coaching middle school girls’ softball one afternoon when the other team showed up but the umpires didn’t. I asked one of the dads from my school to make the calls at second base. His daughter was in my math class; he seemed like a nice guy. One of our girls was out at second base by three steps. Maybe four. It wasn’t close. It wasn’t “tie goes to the runner.” It was more like the runner stopped to tie her shoe shortly after leaving first. The proverbial country mile had nothing on this sweet, slow seventh grader.

“Safe!” yelled dad.

What does this egregious call communicate to his daughter? That cheating and winning is more important than sportsmanship, camaraderie, decency, and apple pie. I have lost track of this guy’s daughter but she may have grown up to be an Olympic athlete tearing down doors and inventing alien tuba stories. You never know. Maybe she was the CEO of Enron.

How do we encourage our beloved children to tell the truth, at least on occasion? As always, modeling is the best place to start. “I’m sorry I was late picking you up” beats “I’ve never seen such horrendous traffic.” Being gracious with honest mistakes is another good idea. If your 10^th grader calls and says she needs a ride home at midnight, go and get her. No questions asked. Believe that she felt uncomfortable getting in a car with an impaired driver. Don’t interrogate her and force her to move in the direction of falsehoods. When she does tell the truth–“there was beer at the party”–thank her for her honesty. Commend her for talking to you. Then let it alone.

And the next time someone makes a fuss about how bright, talented, or attractive your kids are, emphasize that in your house, plain speaking and motivation are valued above “gifts” in every sense of the word. Whatever you do, communicate unequivocally and wholeheartedly that in your household, there’s a premium on telling the truth. And that in your family there is no reason to invent $50,000,000 falsehoods.