#criticalhumility

In January of 2020, students at Darien High School entered faculty offices on a Saturday and took photos of answers to two sophomore exams, one in English and one in Social Studies. The information was then widely distributed over social media, implicating about 300 students.

In December of 2020, 73 cadets at West Point were accused of cheating on a calculus exam at the US Military Academy, where an honor code requires students to pledge that they “will not lie, cheat, steal, or tolerate those who do.” The majority of the students involved (55 of them) had actually been enrolled in a program designed to be an “honor code boot camp” as a second chance.

Debates unfolded in both learning communities in the wake of their respective scandals, revealing divided opinion about both the causes and effects of academic dishonesty. While a student in Darien complained that those who had cheated at her school were “not really experiencing any consequences that are substantial enough for their actions," the parents of one of the teenagers involved actually hired an attorney to contest the school district’s handling of the penalties for his client.

Even officials within West Point were at odds over the matter there. Lt. Col. Christopher Ophardt, the academy’s public affairs director, said that the rehabilitation program was designed to increase the likelihood that people would report violations, since the penalty could be less severe than expulsion. Despite the 2020 lapse, he defended the Military Academy’s response, arguing that West Point “has slowly transitioned to a developmental model that relies on a combination of punishment and additional development to restore a cadet to good standing after a violation.” Tim Bakken, a West Point law professor took a less rosy view, charging that failure to handle a cheating scandal aggressively and transparently — and to encourage a culture of honesty — could infect the thinking of generals and their approach to informing the public. “The United States has not been successful in its last four wars,” Professor Bakken said. “The failure of the military to tell us the truth is a big part of the reason.”

As a parent and an educator who has taught for more than twenty years at both the secondary and university levels, I can testify that the battle for academic integrity is not a new one. That said, it has been surfacing with unprecedented intensity in the last year. In reaching for reasons, it’s easy to blame online learning, since the pandemic has forced so many students of all ages to connect to their classes from home. As a high school teacher conducting courses remotely since last March, however, I can testify that the online argument is a red herring. The internet has been accessible for decades now, and the exams stolen in the cases detailed above were both in hard copy. The problem isn’t the medium; it’s the context of our current political culture.

After more than 200 years of peaceful transitions of power in the United States, rioters stormed the nation’s Capitol in a violent insurrection that culminated in the death of five Americans, including a US Capitol police officer. The attack was incited by baseless claims of voter fraud from the highest office in the land and intended to interfere with certification of electoral college ballots. But the events of January 6th, 2021 were not isolated incidents; they followed years of falsehoods and misinformation perpetuated by an administration that vilified the free press and perpetuated conspiracy theories by trafficking in “alternative facts.” From climate change to COVID-19, science was denied within policies that saw the US withdraw from international agreements on the environment and has already resulted in the nearly 450,000 American lives lost so far to a virus for which no national defense was undertaken.

What do these developments in the government have to do with dishonesty in the classroom? Everything.

Accountability is learned, and when discourse at the national level takes place within a context that relativizes rather than reveres the truth, we model to the younger generation that integrity has no meaning.

The weeks ahead are critical: the former president has been impeached again and his Senate trial this time puts the entire country on the witness stand. Neither partisan squabbling nor legal loopholes will redeem the damages already done. Whether or not convictions are delivered, there is an opportunity that this country cannot afford to miss: we must categorically condemn acts of violence and stand firmly against forces that erode our very democracy. As a Resolution recently adopted by the Town of Bedford reminds us, “the insurgents carried Confederate flags, displayed antisemitic symbols and slogans, and erected a gallows on Capitol grounds, manifesting bigotry, hatred, and utter disregard for the rule of law.” True justice can only be achieved when leaders commit to political processes that uphold the safety and welfare of all.

Holding people accountable for their actions matters, from high school students to politicians. And there is far too much at stake at this juncture for anybody to give in to self-righteousness. I’ve encountered the most constructive conversations through Civics education courses. More than just grounding people in the basics of governing structures, Civics done well critically begins by backing up well beyond 1776 to reckon with our country’s history before it declared itself an independent republic. The three branches of government after all are rooted not just in political philosophy but in lands stolen from Indigenous populations and labored over by enslaved human beings. The inconsonance of stated values with enacted policies strikes even the youngest students. These foundational hypocrisies require more than polite classroom debate; they merit real and often uncomfortable engagement in the facts in pursuit of truth. Winning a trial or even being “right” can’t alone achieve true justice; that takes genuine understanding forged in brave spaces.

In a recent community event online focused on the documentary True Justice, panelist Dr. Alexander Smith with the New York organization Rehabilitation Through the Arts was asked how he holds people accountable in working for racial justice. He answered by imparting the term “Critical Humility,” which he defined as “the practice of remaining open to the fact that our knowledge is always partial and evolving -- while at the same time remaining committed to speaking up and taking action in a world based on our current knowledge, however imperfect.” The concept has the potential to make confrontations truly transformative. As Dr. Smith exhorted the audience of young people and adults alike, “We need to expose our vulnerabilities; we need to be there and live in that and help others expose their vulnerabilities... that’s how we have change.”

Parents can begin to cultivate critical humility at home by exercising accountability that starts with themselves. Think hatching an excuse to avoid an awkward social situation is just a harmless “little white lie”? There’s no such thing, and the children are watching. Rather than duck a difficulty, we can face it candidly, without manipulation. We can apologize to our kids when we make mistakes. We can trade out “blame and shame” routines of punishment for a growth mindset that builds responsibility and mutual respect instead. Doing so anchors accountability as a shared practice and social standard by which young people can then measure the wider world and their place in it.

This also means letting go of the ego-bound aspirations for our children that are more self-serving as status-boosters for parents. Recent SAT scandals involving celebrities Lori Loughlin and Felicity Huffman brought to light much larger college admissions schemes that pointed to corruption at all levels, including coaches, administrators, test proctors, tutors, and others in pay-to-play agreements that involved millions of dollars.

Is there an antidote to this rampant dishonesty? If so, it may lie in exhortations from Julie Lythcott-Haims, the best-selling author whose books highlight how ego-based parenting stunts the development of children and society at large. Adulting, she argues, is a process of “becoming more comfortable with uncertainty and gaining the knowhow to keep going.” Just as parents need to halt freighting their kids with expectations and micromanaging their lives, we need to embrace the imperfections inherent in any project -- whether childrearing or democracy -- that aspires to self-sufficiency, resilience, and integrity.

Elizabeth Messinger is a former journalist with NPR and The Economist of London. Through her educational consultancy, Mind in Motion, she guides children of all ages to think for themselves, and she teaches Humanities at an independent school in Stamford, CT. She raised her son in Bedford, where together they ran the Toddler Room at the Presbyterian Church for nearly a decade. She continues to parent from NY as he attends college in California.