I find myself lying to my students. A lot. I suppose it doesn’t much bother me on a moral level. For one thing, my conscience is perhaps less muscular than it ought to be. For another, I’m generally pretty open with my kids. They know, for instance, that I’m divorced. That I’m quitting smoking for my 30th birthday. That for several years I was professionally violent. I go out of my way to let them know that, within reason, I won’t shy away from their curiosity. Still, I lie.