Day 2 - Allison Wyatt, 6, Student

       Allison was shy. At six years old, that was the only word she knew to describe how she felt when strangers looked at her, especially if they tried to get her attention. A big smile from a stranger just made her look away and down, hoping her long blonde hair would cover her blushing cheeks, as though not being able to see the stranger would somehow make her invisible.

       All her effort went into being a good girl, one who attracted only positive attention from her parents. Misbehaving brought the type of attention she hated, with one parent pointing out to the other what she had done wrong or failed to do at all. Just the mention of her failings was enough to make her want to cry or hide or both.

       Allison hated it when adults laughed at something she said. She would never forget how she felt when her mother laughed when she explained to the milkman that they needed more milk because they "had an ulcer in the family." She didn’t think there was anything funny about that. When the milkman joined her mother and laughed, she couldn’t get away from them and into her bedroom to hide fast enough.

       Her shyness made it all the less understandable that she chose one day not only to tell a lie, but also to get up in front of her entire class during show-and-tell to do so. Something brought her to the point of overcoming her shyness to raise her hand in order to be called on to share her news with her first grade classmates. She eagerly walked to the front of the room and faced her classmates, pointed to her socks and told them they were new. But they weren’t. She had already shared the news of her new socks at show-and-tell before. She couldn’t remember if it was last week, last month, or even longer ago. She just remembered that she had already stood in front of the class for show-and-tell before. And she remembered that she liked the attention. Or was it that she was jealous of the others who had shared that they had new shoes, new dresses, new skirts, or whatever?

       As soon as she had told her news – her lie – it was just a little one, she thought, and no one would actually remember that the socks she pointed to that day were the same as before – she realized what she had done, lowered her eyes and head and made her return trip to the desk more quickly.

       And then she started to think.  She knew telling lies was wrong. Should she tell her mom what she did?  Did she have to tell her mom? Would the teacher figure out she lied? Would her teacher tell her mom?

       What should she do?