In Quaker schools, especially those with early childhood and lower school programs, it’s common practice to define Integrity as “doing the right thing even when no one is watching.” This phrase turns what is arguably the most abstract of Quaker testimonies into a straightforward idea for young children, who can easily relate to the concept of following rules regardless of whether there’s a teacher there to see it. Kids often land on the example of taking just one piece of Halloween candy from an unguarded bowl left on the front porch, and as a teacher, I love that this has so much meaning to them throughout the year, not just in October. As a parent who *may* have snagged some chocolate out of my kids’ Halloween bags for my lunch box today, though, I can’t help but think that integrity isn’t just about resisting the pull of Reese’s peanut butter cups.
As an educator, integrity shows up in my life when I dare to share my authentic self at school. Sometimes this looks like vulnerability, such as revealing to students that I don’t have an easy answer to some of their most pressing questions about something confusing or upsetting that they heard on the news on the way to school. Sometimes it means modeling resilience, like when I speak to students in my very stilted Spanish to illustrate the importance of practice over perfection. Most of the time, it looks like me acknowledging that each day brings more things for me to do and to learn rather than fewer and embracing the challenge and beauty of imperfection.
I can’t say with much confidence that I’ll bring a clear, simple definition of Integrity to a classroom full of Lower School students. I will share what my authentic pursuit of integrity looks like, both when everyone and no one else is watching. And, I haven’t ruled out asking for their collective forgiveness for the occasional, furtive swiping of Halloween candy, because integrity, authenticity, and imperfection, as it turns out, are inextricably connected.