All The Reasons Not To

“But, Sir. I…” I began to say, wondering how anyone could have found the stolen money in the playground, when I know I had spent it at the shop buying the ice blocks. “Yes, Mr Dwyer. You did steal their money. You did spend it. On ice blocks for all the children. Even ‘E’ and ‘K’ ”. He looked back outside. “You stole their money. I know that. You know that. They do not, and that is what we are talking about now.” He said calmly.

I want you to think very carefully what stealing means. What it means to you now, and what it will mean to you, if everyone else knew about it.”

Mr Walsh turned in his seat. He turned and faced me. He looked at me sternly. “I want you to learn this lesson now”.

I looked back in his calm face. This was being told off in a totally different way. There were no hands flying at me to hit me. I was not ducking and weaving to avoid hands or other items swinging at me. There was no yelling or screaming by the person telling me off (or from me as the various swipes and strikes landed). I was not being sent to my room to think about it and await a physical punishment by my fathers return home. That wasn’t to say it wasn’t going to happen. It just, right then it seemed Mr Walsh wanted me to think about what stealing really meant? To consider something other than the need to cover up what I had done. I was still a little confused over Mr Walsh saying the money had been found and returned, when I had already spent it. But he was still going to tell the class I had stolen the money? How was that possible? If the stolen money was found, and returned, it couldn’t have been spent? That was a logical sequence. You couldn’t spend something that hadn’t been stolen.

“I gave them the money,” Mr Walsh explained, as if reading my thoughts. I was stunned. He looked somewhat sadly at me. “From my own pocket.” That hit home. “I know you do not like watching them flash their money around. But it is their money. Not yours.” He continued. “I do not like the choice you made. Stealing.” He looked disappointed in me. I was disappointed in myself. “Stealing is a dreadful way to live.” He took a deep breath. “I know your mother would not appreciate what you did today. I know you didn’t steal and keep it to yourself, but you stole, and by doing so, you have harmed something else far more important. Your reputation.” He let that word sink in. He looked outside and then back to me. “Once you ruin your reputation, it is gone. Once people know you steal, you will always have people not trusting you. Whenever something happens and there is any doubt. You are the first one blamed. Stealing is a fast way to ruin your life.” The softness of his voice with which he said this to me added to the effectiveness of his words.

(Continued tomorrow)