Words are sparkling bijous that I turn in my fingers. A closer examination of usage and origin delights me. Three years of high school Latin at the feet of a brilliant language teacher are to blame. My 6th grade students tease me about my indefatigable passion for the Greek and Latin roots that glitter in the English language like pieces in a mosaic from Pompeii. But the various facets of a word teach me so much about life, I tell them.
Take integrity, for example. Recently, I looked into the word integrity with the focus of a jeweler’s loupe. Integrity is a beautiful word that, when referring to persons, means “the quality of possessing and steadfastly adhering to high moral principles or professional standards” (Encarta). Integrity also describes the soundness or wholeness of a given object, such as; “That chair may be antique, but it still has integrity. My fat Uncle Marvin sat in it last week and survived to see another day.” Yes, wholeness. In fact, the word integrity comes from the same Latin origin as integer. Every day in math class, my students hear that an integer is a whole number, negative or positive, so I start wondering if they can track this etymology with me.
In class last week, I became caffienated.
“Kids, what if we shift our definition of integrity just a tad and interpret a person with integrity as being more than just a person who tells the truth, but a person who has the quality of wholeness? What if breaking away from high moral principles is a way of breaking oneself into pieces?”
The classroom falls silent. They are willing to consider this notion. In autumn, they would not have understood nor been interested, but we are well into the spring semester, and my sweet intermediate students grew a few more dendrites over Christmas break. They listen closely. And I explain my new philosophy, born of rudimentary word study.
If 6th graders can get it, you can, too. Follow:
The Outside You (read: The Outside Us) is comprised of those words and actions that everyone around you perceives. The Outside You functions as your personal denominator, so to speak. The Inside You, is the calculation of all the unspoken thoughts and feelings you harbor, and it is your personal numerator. Mathematically speaking, we all know that the denominator and numerator must match in order to create an integer, or a whole number. Similarly, when the Outside You matches the Inside You, you have integrity, or personal wholeness. If the numerator and denominator — or inside and outside — don’t match, it is called a fraction. A fraction is only a part of what was once whole. Not whole. Small.
“When we compromise our values, we become small, just a fraction of what we could be,” I say. Now we are getting to the good part. My voice climbs an octave as I teach. “Listen, guys, we are only halfway there! What do we call someone who acts like a goody-goody, but who has a crummy heart? Someone who acts like the teacher’s pet, but then breaks all the rules behind her back?”
“A butt-kisser.”
“A jerk.”
“A hypocrite.”
“BAM!” I point to the young man who said it, holding his gaze. “A hypocrite. When someone is different on the inside than he claims to be on the outside, we call him a hypocrite. Do you hear the Greek root hypo in there? That was on our list this week. What does it mean? Think hypoallergenic, hypothermia … ”
“Small or under!” Several eager students shout.
“Small. That’s it. Hypo means small,” I smile. “A hypocrite is someone whose numerator and denominator do not match. They are just fractions. Little people. People who are small-minded and do not have integrity.”
A few nod. My face feels flushed. This is my passion. I look around the room for affirmation that I have gotten the point across.
Suddenly, a kid blurts out, “Squirrel!” Everyone laughs.
He does this from time to time, trying to be funny. I sigh. Even in this glowing moment of mine, I have to admit that just a fraction of the class has understood.
Oh, well. They are only twelve. And they are in my academic care for only one year, which is a fraction of what I hope will be their long lives. Yet, if I do not at least present the case for integrity to adolescents, I know I would only be a fraction of the teacher I could be. I want to pass on the most important life lessons I have learned.
And if I have learned one thing, it is that living with integrity is the whole thing.