Jennette Lee

“ There isn't a boy seven years old that can't see what is happening to it. Instead of having them work out how many tons of concrete it takes for the foundation, let them ask a few questions as to how much concrete can be adulterated and stand up, and how it feels to live in a city where everybody cheats all he can. Talk about lying!" she said with a quick flash of indignation. "Boys love the truth. Look how they play their own games on the square! They have to—bless them! They save their lies for grown-ups, most of them—they watch us and think that's the way we like to play the game!" ”

“ Tom laughed out.
"We spank them for telling lies and hush them up. So they learn to lie in secret. It's disease," said Milly, "shut up inside 'em! We ought to air it, bring it into the light and put truth alongside it. Show them the big and beautiful things that men have done together by being square. ”

“ But 'lying' would sound more attractive to a boy."
"You bet it would!" said Tom. "Or a man, either," he added.
"It's a little stupid, I think"—Milly was threshing it out—"not to use a thing a boy is as keen about as he is about lying to help educate him with. Can't you see a class of boys that have been going to sleep over fractions, just come all alive over an exercise in practical lying?"
Tom chuckled.
"Let 'em try it for a while," said Milly. "Let them watch out for lies for a day—see how many examples, different kinds, they can bring to class—the way they bring flowers. ”