Guilt is one of the most treacherous and unforgiving feelings in the world. Guilt can sometimes be far worse than any kind of pain or grief. You can’t make this feeling go away as easily, for you are in a conflict with yourself. Sometimes you can be your greatest enemy. Feeling bad for something you did is a very human emotion, and the only way to resolve it is to confront it. Honesty can sometimes be your greatest weapon against guilt.

It was a few years back, maybe in fourth grade or so. We had taken a test in Math class. Let’s just say that I wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. I never really tried my hardest academically, and studying was the last thing that came to mind at home. I was aware that my dad kept a close eye on my grades, and that failure wasn’t an option. So I did the worst, stupidest thing. I cheated. The test was going smoothly, and I hadn’t encountered any problems that I couldn’t solve. Until I came across one question that really stumped me. The girl next to me wasn’t exactly aware of my cheating, and no one caught me. It was only one question, I reassured myself, everything else was my own brain.

Several days later we received our graded tests. My eyes were immediately drawn to the the bright red marker that my teacher had used to mark the grades. My eyes widened to see the big underlined one-hundred. A smile spread across my face as I read the teacher’s note: Great job! One of the only hundreds in class! I was extremely delighted, and I was about to brag to the entire class when I felt a pang in my heart. It wasn’t anything extreme, but it brought a close to my short-lived sense of glee. I remembered how I had cheated on one of the questions on the test. The more I thought about it, and the more I looked at the one-hundred, the worse I had felt.

That night, I showed the test to my dad. He held the paper in his hands, and he gave me a look of pride. “Great job!” he exclaimed. “ One-hundred is a fantastic grade!” I couldn’t help but smile at his bombardment of compliments. Then a sudden wave of sorrow crashed over me. I looked at the grade, and then at my father. I knew that the grade I had received wasn’t mine. What is this feeling? It had felt as though someone was tightly gripping my heart.

“Umm, dad?” I asked.

“What is it?” He was still smiling.

There was a lump in my throat. “ I-I, uh, cheated on that one question.” I pointed at one of the problems on the test. My dad’s smile faded, and a look of disappointment fell over him. He looked at me and eyed the paper.

He sighed, “ You cheated?” I looked back at him sheepishly.

“Yeah,” I replied. “ I-I just didn’t know the answer so I just...” I trailed off as I looked down at my feet.

“I’m very disappointed,” he replied. “ You have to make things right.” I knew that he was right. That I had to make things right, but I was scared. I couldn’t help but think that my teacher would yell at me in rage. I took a deep breath.

“You’re right,” I replied. That night, I was unable to think about anything but the test. It felt as though heavy weights were pulling my heart down. All night I wondered how my teacher would react to the truth. The next day, my father and I decided to talk to the teacher and tell her what happened. I knew that it was inevitable, but I still dreaded the moment. We had agreed to talk to the teacher after school. The day dragged on, and it felt extremely long.

Finally, the clock had hit two, and it was time for dismissal. My dad was waiting for me at the lobby, and together we made our way to my classroom, through the sea of kids eagerly running to the busses. My teacher looked surprised, for we hadn’t informed her that we would be coming.

“My son has something he wants to talk about,” said my dad.

“Okay? What is it?” My teacher pulled up a chair for us to sit down. A concerned look was on her face. I looked down at my knees. I couldn’t speak up. My dad rested a hand on my shoulder and gave me an encouraging look.

“Remember the Math test that we took?” I asked.

“Of course,” my teacher replied, “ What about it?”

“I-I, uh, I cheated on one of the questions,” I stammered. I couldn’t bring myself to look at my teacher’s face; I was too scared that she would be angry.

“Thank you for telling me,” she replied, “Thank you for being honest.” I looked up, and to my surprise she wasn’t mad at all. In fact, she was smiling.

“These things happen,” she said in a soft voice, “and a lot of people cheat, but you came to me and told me.” She looked at me. “It doesn’t make it okay, but you were honest about it. Being honest can be really hard sometimes. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I mumbled. That was it. My teacher bid us farewell, and I thanked her. After that, we left. The car ride home was silent, but a smile was stretched across my face from ear to ear. It felt like a weight had been lifted from my chest, and I was free from the chains of guilt. Everything looked clearer and brighter. It felt like the warm sun had finally decided to show up after a long dreary rain.

“Wasn’t so bad, was it?” my dad asked.

“No, no it wasn’t,” I replied.

Like my teacher had said, being honest isn’t always easy, but sometimes honesty is the only way that you’ll forgive yourself. When you feel like you’re drowning in a sea of guilt, making up for what you’ve done is the only way out. Next time you’ve done something you know you shouldn’t have done, try being honest about it. It might save you from a lot of excessive worrying.

-Tomoki  Cooper