N.W., a reader in the Midwest, recalled a test taken years ago in a college course on non-Western religions.
“The essay question posed a hypothetical,” N.W. writes. “If your personal faith was outlawed, which of the faiths we covered during the course would you join?” Students were to show their knowledge of at least three religions in their answers.
Afterward, N.W. and a friend talked about the question.
“I took it as an intellectual challenge and made a choice, as did the vast majority of my classmates,” she writes. But her friend, who was “far more deeply religious,” answered the question differently.
Rather than practice another religion, she said she would go underground to practice hers, N.W. writes.
“I understood,” N.W. said. “She didn’t want to even consider losing her faith as part of a thought experiment.”
N.W. wonders whether it was OK for her friend to pass the course, because she didn’t directly give an alternative religion as an answer.
In dealing with acts that show integrity, I often refer to Stephen Carter’s delineation of three steps needed to act with the quality, outlined in his 1996 book, Integrity. The first step requires discerning the issue. The second, acting on what you discern. The final step is stating openly what you’ve done and why.
The friend showed integrity, even though some classmates might have thought otherwise. She did give a direct answer to the professor’s question with her “none, and here’s why” response, supported by a clear understanding of material covered in class.
The right thing was for N.W.’s friend to answer the question fully and with understanding and integrity, all of which she did. She never revealed the specific grade she received on the final, but she did pass. Any teacher worth his or her salt welcomes a student who shows comprehension, critical thinking — and a bit of gumption.
Jeffrey L. Seglin, a lecturer in public policy, directs the communication program at the Harvard Kennedy School in Cambridge, Mass.