Girl with dog and torch

Last Sunday, when I was teaching Sunday school, the discussion was about Zacchaeus–the disliked, short, tax collector who climbed up in the tree to see Jesus as he passed by.  One of the points of the story is that Zacchaeus was a cheater, and a liar, but had a complete change of heart after dining with Christ.  He was totally different, can gave his money away afterwards.

To begin the discussion with the kids (ages five to eight or nine), I asked about examples of cheating.  I was thinking of cheating in games, or maybe in school.  But these kids are pretty young to really be as concerned about cheating on tests or homeworks–that’s what I was thinking.

One of the boys, who is eight, began to talk about how he cheats in school.  He was gloating about it, proud, and enjoying the fact that I and a few other of the students were shocked.  He talked about how easy it is, and how his teacher doesn’t know.

I have to admit–I didn’t know what to do.  I was surprised, first of all.  And I tried to brush away the implication of what he was saying, “Oh, you don’t really cheat.  Your teacher probably knows what you’re doing.” 

To make it worse, another little girl (who is perceived as less popular) chimed in that she would _never_ cheat.  This sentiment egged the boy on to smirk and say that he did it every day.

I know that I didn’t handle the situation well.  I indicated that it was wrong, but I didn’t have just the right thing to say about it.  I’ve been thinking about it all week, wondering what I might have said.  The boy’s mother is, in fact, a schoolteacher.  But I get the feeling that she would be angry at him for _saying in Sunday school_ that he cheats, more than angry that he cheats.  And that would make it worse, I think.  That would just tell him that he has to be craftier.  I still haven’t figured out what the best thing would have been to do.