Integrity Matters

A wise martial arts mentor once told me, “How you practice is how you will fight.”

When I awoke this morning, his words carried a different meaning. A talk I had on Sunday with one of my Taekwondo students made me think that this adage applies not just to fighting, but also to integrity—as in: the truth you speak today dictates the life you lead tomorrow.

Integrity, one of the five tenets of Taekwondo, is an exceptionally vital value to possess if you want to live a clean, misery- and mentally-debt-free life. It’s one of the hardest tenets to practice and one that, with true diligence, will help you gain respect (even from those who don’t like you) and open countless doors of opportunity.

A single slip of integrity, though, can ruin years of trust in all types of relationships.

Dee was learning the integrity lesson the hard way.

Her mom reached out to me for help via email: “I am having trouble with [Dee] and she responds to you more than she does to me. Anything I say seems to roll off of her,” her mom wrote. (If we were talking face-to-face, I would have stopped her right there and said that all parents of teen-agers feel that way from time to time.)

“Lately she has been caught blatantly lying,” the mom continued, detailing the most recent incident. “I am only bringing this up because she will listen to you.”

I felt honored that she trusted me, because I’ve made more than a few mistakes in my own life, many of which I’m still working hard to amend.

On Sunday, while the rest of my Taekwondo class practiced forms, I took Dee to a corner of the gym for a private talk. I invited her to sit on one of the benches.

“Oh, [Dee],” I said, sighing yet smiling. “What happened?”

She knew exactly what I meant.

“Well, I was just scared to tell my mom the truth,” she said. “I know. I shouldn’t have done it.”

I gave an affirming nod, and then asked, “Be honest. Have you lied to her before?”

“Yeah, but it was just teen-age stuff,” she said.

“Like what?”

Dee described several instances, adding, “But none of them were a big deal.”

I paused and leaned forward on the wooden bench. “Lies are lies. They’re not big, small, or white. And if you start categorizing them, then you can easily justify them, and then before you know it you’re lying all the time over stuff you could have easily told the truth about.

“Do you get that?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said, looking down.

We discussed ways she could rewind when she catches herself telling a lie.

“One of my best friends has worked really hard to stop lying,” I said. “When she realizes she’s not being honest, she says, ‘Wait. I don’t think that came out right. What I meant to say was...’ and then she tells the truth. It’s humbling and embarrassing in the moment, but she’s gotten better and better at calling herself on lying—and you can, too.”

Dee nodded again.

“So you’re demoted for at least a month,” I said. “And in that time, I want you to do a thorough inventory of all the times in your life that you’ve lied. Go all the way back to the first one you can remember and list them.”

Her jaw dropped.

“That’s the first column. In Column 2, list the people that you hurt, because your lies hurt people—you especially. In Column 3, describe what you could have done differently instead of lying.

“Does that make sense?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dee said solemnly.

“You’re not the first person to lie and you won’t be the last. But you can shift course right now and live a life of honesty. It just takes guts.”

Dee nodded again, said thanks, bowed, and then returned to her classmates to train.

After the talk with Dee, one of my black belts lovingly called me “a hard-ass.”

“O.K.,” I said. “I’ll own that.”

Why? Dee is about to go off on her own—to college, to the military, or into the workforce—and it’s especially important that she learn to be truthful NOW. And as an instructor, if I don’t take the time to mentor her and her classmates regarding integrity, they may one day think it’s O.K. to fudge on timesheets at work, pad expense accounts, cheat on their taxes, or be unfaithful to their spouses.

I can’t let that happen. And even though I hated doing it, I had to be the bad guy and demote her. I had to take a stand—to say, yes, it does matter that you have integrity at all times, not just when it’s easy, and especially when no one's watching.

My hope is that by now Taekwondo is important enough to Dee and I’m a vital enough influence that she gets the message and never again trudges the road of lies—or at the very least is blessed with hours upon hours of sleepless nights every time she fudges on the truth.

When I joined Alcoholics Anonymous, people there said AA would ruin my drinking if I decided to not stay sober. I hope our talk—and the inventory Dee's been assigned—ruins any future lying.

Why? At some point, everyone:
1. Dreads being honest because it will get them in trouble
2. Dreads being honest because it will get someone else in trouble
3. Dreads being honest because the truth might hurt someone they love
4. Tells the truth and needs to be believed.

If we bop along in our lives and lie when it’s convenient, then No. 4 above will be a hard sell indeed.

That’s why we Taekwondo stylists must practice integrity.

Everyday.

In all our affairs.

No matter how bad we look.

Now I’m the queen of wanting to look good, so I personally hate making mistakes in public or disappointing someone. I’d love to be perfect all the time, especially in front of my students. Problem is: I’m terminally imperfect and on my best day mistake-capable.

Case in point: Last week, 5-year-old Lev brought me a note from his mom saying that he had dutifully fulfilled his requirements for a black character stripe. For two weeks, Lev took out the trash without being asked or reminded.

"That's great, Lev!" I said. "Would you like the stripe now or in front of your classmates?"

"In front of my classmates," he said, smiling wide.

"You got it!"

Lev was so excited! And I was ecstatic, too, because he’s only 5 and that shows an awful lot of maturity, attentiveness, and heart. But then something unthinkable happened: The class came and went and I—gulp—forgot to award him the stripe.

Poor Lev! He never complained. He didn’t cry. He didn’t whine. In fact, he just went home.

I remembered my oversight about five minutes after class ended when I saw his mom’s note on top of my class curriculum binder.

“Crap!” I whispered under my breath.

I looked around the room and Lev was gone. I felt horrible.

When I got home, I knew what I had to do. While I could award him the stripe the next class and act like I intended it to be that way, being my word is important to me. I didn’t purposefully ignore this young man, but I know that when you’re 5 years old, things like getting stripes in front of the class are important and that feeling like you’re not important and that you’ve been forgotten hurts. So I wrote the following email as an admission—and a humble amends:

“Dear Lev,

“First, congratulations on earning a black stripe for taking out the trash without being asked. That’s fabulous! I'm so proud of you, and I hope you’ll continue to look for ways to help the family out around the house.

“I was supposed to award you a black stripe on Tuesday. I didn’t, and I’m sorry that I forgot. I hope you will forgive me and allow me to award you ANOTHER black stripe as part of my sincerest apologies.

“Keep up the great work! See you Thursday!”

Needless to say, Lev was more than happy to accept my apology. And here’s the silver lining I never expected: Telling the truth—admitting I forgot, admitting that I had a lapse of focus—actually resulted in a self-esteem boost for this young man. He got TWO stripes instead of one! We even joked that I should forget things more often so that he could get double the stripes!

It was humbling, but I had to admit my error in front of Lev and his parents. And though it was difficult to be "a hard ass," I had to take a stand with Dee.

I’d rather be tough on myself and my students today so that we all can learn the importance of practicing integrity tomorrow. That way we're more likely to speak the truth when it is hardest to speak, when we need to speak it the most, and when we need to be believed. No one can afford to have people doubt them on that important day.

Integrity is not only a Taekwondo tenet, but it’s also a vital lifelong value. I’d rather Dee lose rank temporarily and thereby learn a hard lesson in the pitfalls of dishonesty now from her martial arts instructor than to find it easy to lie to others later and risk permanently losing her spouse, friends, job, and mental and spiritual freedom.

After all, the truth she practices today will dictate the life she leads tomorrow.