Mr. Reynolds

In grade 12, I had the pleasure of taking Biology in high school from Mr. Reynolds. He was one of those teachers who genuinely loved teaching. His interaction with his students showed it. Biology wasn’t something you took. It was something you did. Most of his projects involved doing things and digging for information. Seldom did you regurgitate facts from a textbook.

One of the major assignments of the third term was to produce a study of something. The subject of your paper could be anything.

I remember how creative many of the projects were. One student used electrical impulses to map the brain of a frog for muscle movement.

I approached Mr. Reynolds for some suggestions of what I could do, but I walked away still not knowing my topic.

A week before the due date it hit me. Time was running out. If I didn’t start immediately, I wouldn’t be able to do a study of any kind. I started to panic.

I had a casual conversation with a friend who attended another school. Apparently the biology class there had done a similar project. Brian Steele did one on the effects of crowding on mice and had received a good mark. I contacted Brian and asked if I could “borrow” his paper. In other words, I decided to cheat.

I retyped Brian’s words and made a nice cover page. When I handed it in, my mind was racing. Mr. Reynolds had known my dilemma. Would he be able to add one and one and get two – that this wasn’t really my own work? I remember the horrible guilt I had when I put it on the pile with the others.

A few weeks later, I got the paper back. Unlike Brian’s A, I got a B. While I was happy with the mark, I was not happy at all with how I obtained it. I had deceived Mr. Reynolds, a teacher I really liked. I had trouble approaching him from that moment on. Every time I saw him, I wondered if he really knew that I had cheated.

About five years later, I had a day off and decided to visit my old high school and the teachers who were still there. I saw many and was pleased that they remembered me. I finally went to see Mr. Reynolds.

At first I was uncomfortable. Then I decided it was time to tell him the truth.

I said, “Remember the project I did on the effects of crowding on rats?” He told me that he did. “It wasn’t my work,” I stammered. Then he told me the truth. When he received it, he figured that it wasn’t, but he decided to give me the benefit of the doubt.

I asked him why.

He replied, “If there is anyone who lost by doing this action, it was you, not me. Sure, you may have gained a good mark, but you lost the opportunity to learn something. You also lost some respect for yourself.” He noted that he had noticed that I had acted a bit “differently” after I had handed in the paper. He ended his talk with this. “I’m glad you finally told me the truth. It shows that you have good character, but I hope you have learned your lesson. In life, you may be presented with other opportunities similar to this one. Each time you don’t do what is right and honourable, it makes it becomes easier to be dishonest the next time.”

You know something? Mr. Reynolds taught me a very good lesson that day.