Hooks + Books

Is this my cheese?

This story originally appeared in the Philippine Daily Inquirer on November 29, 2005.

My first-hand experience with cheating came when I was 5 years old. I was given an activity sheet with a mouse drawn on one corner and cheese on the other. Between the two figures were lines with spaces in between. On top of the paper, it read, “Help the mouse find his cheese.”

“Excuse me, ma’am. What am I going to do with this?” I courteously asked my teacher.

“You must find the way from the mouse to the cheese,” she replied.

I was dumbfounded. I looked around and saw my other classmates having a good time answering the given sheet. Their pencils seemed to have made way through the page, while mine was still resting on top of my desk. I wondered how they managed to breeze through the maze when all I saw were dizzying criss-crossing lines.

My heartbeat halted. Everything froze as if life had been sucked out of everything around me. But looking at my seatmate’s work, I was encouraged. She had traced a line from the mouse to the cheese without passing through the maze.

I did the same thing, except that instead of drawing a line across the maze, I drew a line on the empty space outside the maze to the cheese.

When the teacher saw what I did, she was disappointed. “What you did was wrong. You must pass through the maze!” she said, her voice rising.

“What about Antoinette?” I protested. “She did the same thing!”

“You mean you copied from her?” she demanded to know. “How could you do such a thing? Cheating is bad!”

I didn’t know what “cheating” exactly meant. To me, it was just another word but the way my teachers said it suggested that it was something evil. The word had a great impact on me. Though my eyes weren’t moist and I wasn’t trembling, I felt something unusual inside. I had a heavy, damp and almost sickening feeling.

I was disturbed by the incident, and when my mom noticed my silence, she asked what was wrong.

“Mommy, anong cheating?” I asked her.

“Bakit mo natanong?” she asked in reply.

“Sabi kasi ni teacher, it is bad.”

My mom confirmed that indeed cheating was bad and therefore I should avoid doing it. I never wanted to feel that way again, so I remembered the word and vowed never to resort to it.

But much as I want to move on, the despondency I felt that day continues to haunt me. Every time I am faced with a dilemma, I am again transported to that struggle over the mouse-cheese maze. When I am faced with big decisions, I have to be assured to avoid getting agitated. I have always wondered why the heavy feeling creeps into me during such confusing situations. I don’t cheat, but I get the same feeling over and over again.

It was never my intention to cheat. What I needed at that time was not the correct answer but the assurance that I was doing what others were doing. I looked at my seatmate’s paper not because I wanted to get my work done correctly but to have an ally at a time when I didn’t know what to do.

Now when I find myself in a tight spot, I remember this experience because I need to be reassured. I need someone who will reaffirm my actions so that I won’t be solely responsible for their consequences. I must have another person to affirm my decisions so that I can avoid mistakes and imperfections. I want everything to fall into place without a hitch.

This sense of idealism has grown in me. It has anchored my identity. I have slowly developed into an obsessive-compulsive (O-C) person, someone who seeks to find perfection in everything. I don’t settle for things that are done haphazardly. I believe that everything should be done according to my own high standard of orderliness.

This mind-set is greatly reflected in my actions. When I cut a piece of paper, I must do it with scissors so that it would have no jagged edges. The things in my desk should always be neatly arranged, otherwise I get irritated. Books in the shelf should be arranged according to height. I tend to be meticulous in cleaning things and even in my penmanship.

As a result, everything seems to work to my advantage. I am usually organized. I am disciplined. I make sure that every move I make will make a good impression on other people. Every step is carefully planned and so I rarely commit mistakes.

On the other hand, there have been many instances when my condition can be alarming. Oftentimes, I find myself doing things repeatedly to assure myself that everything is perfect or done right. When I lock the door, I push the button several times to make sure it is really locked. When I need to bring something for class, I check my bag repeatedly to ensure it is there. I am afraid to commit mistakes. I exert too much effort to make everything perfect.

Such an attitude can be harmful. I could become so idealistic that I might detach myself from a world that is flawed and oftentimes chaotic. I might seek perfection in a world where perfection is plainly a myth. I might strive for my ideals and later consider myself a failure since idealism is unachievable.

Considering these fears, there are times when I want to flush the “O-C way of life” out of my system. More and more, I see my condition as a burden rather than an advantage. Yes, it is good to be organized in everything, but I must accept the fact that the world is full of blemishes that makes perfection unattainable. I also realize that mistakes are essential because they help me learn new things and develop into a better person.

I am not about to claim that being an O-C is absolutely a handicap. Perhaps, some people prefer to be overly obsessive and compulsive. I know that what I seek to reject, other people might want to keep. They may be contented with the way they deal with certain things while I am not.

Curiously, while I wish to withdraw from compulsiveness, I cannot. This is because I need the assurance of other people, which makes the idea of being an O-C attractive. I find myself going in circles, as the behavior I want to get rid of is the same behavior that keeps me from doing it. And this only proves one thing: I have truly become an obsessive-compulsive person and my condition is reflected in the way I look at life in its entirety.

Pondering all these things brings me back to my preschool years. I see myself in the mouse I encountered during my childhood. The only difference is that I no longer cheat as I look for that chunk of yellow cheese because I have already found it. Instead, I am this obsessive-compulsive mouse continually asking, “Is this really my cheese?”

Oscar C. Mejia III

Oscar C. Mejia III, 18, is a 2nd year BS Chemistry/BS Materials Science and Engineering student at the Ateneo de Manila University.

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