As for the stealing, we do a short unit on stealing a scene and all the actors learn to "cheat out" so that the audience can pick up their expressions as they play. Good clean fun.
As for actual cheating and stealing, I think I can count my lucky stars that in both the cases of my attempting to actually do those, I was caught in the act and have never tried either again.
Eighth grade English. Mrs. Parkinson. Finishing up a test. I begin to stand up from my desk, as I've just completed the test and am going to bring it up to Mrs. P's desk. Sitting right in front of me is one of my best friends, Paul. As I stand, my eye falls on his page. Of course! I knew that! As if on automatic pilot, my standing up switches to sitting down. I'm putting my test back on my desk. I'm lifting my pen. And then I feel her gaze boring into my head. I look up. Mrs. Parkinson (kind, firm) is looking right at me. Just once, she turns her head left, right, back to center. No, you don't want to do that. I freeze for one long second. Then I exhale. With a slight nod, I acknowledge her communication. And I know she's right. I stand and bring the unaltered test to her desk. And that was it for me and cheating. Thank you, Mrs. Parkinson.
As for stealing, this one's not so subtle. Sophomore year of high school. My family is hosting an AFS student again this year. Rogelio is from Argentina. I've taken him sightseeing in D.C. While walking between the Supreme Court and Capitol Hill, we pass one of those large stores we had back in those days that sold mostly just magazines and newspapers. He asks if we can take a look around? Of course! We're both grazing different areas of the store when I come upon a section devoted to "adults only" mags featuring scantily clad and maybe even nude women and even a smaller section with men also in stages of undress. A sudden, urgent longing to have just one such sexy magazine... just one? But I don't have a fake ID that could pass muster... or even if I did, I'm 15 and look like a tall 13 year old. Foiled! Or not?
On a rack nearby I spot my favorite entertainment business newsprint magazine: Variety. Nice and tall and wide. My mind a feverish mess, I take the Variety and, passing by the taboo rack again, I grab one of the more promising looking hunky guy magazines and slip it into the middle of the show biz rag. I see across the store that Rogelio is checking out, having purchased a couple of D.C. souvenirs. I put on my best innocent expression, and, heart pounding, I approach the lady at the cash register. She sits up high on a platform, right next to the door. I gesture to Rogelio that he can wait for me out front of the store and he does.
Register lady up on her perch, seemingly without thought, purely routine, takes the Variety from me and immediately (likely sensing the added weight) flips through and then removes my beefcake mag and holds it high above her head. I try to cover. "Oh, yes, that, too, please." I see Rogelio looking back towards us through the glass door. Cashier lady says in a very loud voice, "Out! We do not serve thieves in this store!!" I'm all But, but and waving my cash toward her. But she gets even louder ordering me out and I'm probably bright red as I, utterly ashamed, exit the store. Rogelio didn't know what to say as I gulped for air and tried to say something about a "misunderstanding," hurrying us along. That was IT for me. No more stealing EVER. Thank you, cashier lady.
I'm one of the thousands of Americans who is somewhat distantly related to Abraham Lincoln. My middle name is Lincoln. I had internalized the Honest Abe persona. Both these instances of flirting with dishonestly (and, thank goodness, getting caught) shook me up and, seemingly all on their own, put an end to any possible future gambits in that direction. Not that I've never lied or fudged the truth upon occasion. [see post on Blurting and how to make oneself act "Danish" for 2800 miles.]
I used to have a guy working for the Drama Dept who was great with lights and scenery. We did a lot of creative work together. It did always bug me that when we were speaking he used "frankly" and "quite honestly" so often. What's up with that? I found out several years into our association that he was systematically ripping us off, selling lighting instruments he thought I wouldn't miss during summer months. He thereby brought to a sudden and complete halt to a good working relationship. His loss and ours.
Slant all the truth if you must, but tell it. Tell the truth.