Were that true, athletes wouldn't dope, politicians wouldn't lie, and students would always play by the rules.

What surprised me about the recent scandal -- Chapel Hill High students caught cheating -- was the public's reaction. Shock, outrage, cries of "This can't be." Not our children.

Baseball fans received the Mitchell report with similar indignation. This can't be, they cried. Not our sports stars. You mean, those 240-pound sluggers with Popeye forearms and heads the size of small planets shoot steroids?

"For every rat you see, there are 50 you don't." Pardon the Dr. Phil quote. But the 89 named by Mitchell and four fingered by Chapel Hill High educators are not alone. Don't be naive -- we live in a culture of rats. Cheating is everywhere -- even, ironically, in ethics classes.

In December 2006, graduate students at Columbia's School of Journalism got caught cheating on a take-home exam whose focus, ironically, was ethics in reporting.

I tutor local teens, many of whom attend Chapel Hill High. In a recent SAT prep class, I noticed a junior from Chapel Hill peeking at the answer key during testing. Considering I don't assign the class grades, incentive to cheat is small. The student admitted he was tired and didn't really feel like taking the test. He neither argued nor apologized when I excused him from class.

Cheating lives at the intersection of laziness and ambition. Students are impatient and impressionable. They want success, and they want it fast. They idealize athletes and entertainers who find fame and riches young, superstars like Lebron James. Our culture teaches that if you haven't hit it big by 20, you've failed. By 30, you're over the hill. No one has time to take their time anymore. Is it any wonder then that students cheat?

Look at their role models.

A Texas mother fibbed an essay for her 5-year-old, claiming her husband was killed in Iraq. The story scored her two Hannah Montana tickets. She downplayed the incident when found out, saying, "We did whatever we could do to win."

Food Network chef Robert Irvine spiced up his resume with tall tales of cooking for royalty and presidents. He had secured a book deal and a cooking show before the truth emerged.

And just this past week, Margaret Seltzer's memoir about gang life in South-Central Los Angeles was pulled from shelves. Turns out, the author grew up in wealthy Sherman Oaks. She might have gotten away with it had her sister not ratted her out.

More often than not, unless their actions are especially egregious and arrogant, cheaters get away with it. Those caught typically face mild consequences.

Deny, deny, deny, our court-system society teaches. Just look at former Chapel Hill track star Marion Jones, who feigned outrage at accusations of doping during the 2000 Olympics. She entered federal prison on March 7 to serve a six-month sentence for lying to investigators.

And Michael Vick, who eventually fessed up to charges of illegal dog-fighting last year, apologized profusely to his fans and claimed a newfound relationship with the Lord. Society loves a good redemption tale, even if it's fictional and rehearsed.

Unless you have a prominent name, such as Jones or Vick, the judge is apt to go light. Students realize this and figure they stand to gain more from cheating than they risk losing.

So what can be done?

First of all, forget about surveillance cameras and other forms of policing. Sure, this might catch a few of the careless, but it does nothing to change the mentality of youth. We, adults, need to stop preaching and start leading. Set an example for kids by working hard and playing fair.

More and more, students are defined by GPAs, SATs, and class ranks. Their stock and self-esteem rise and fall with their numbers. If they're unhappy, their parents think all they need is a little more. Boost their grades, their exam scores, get them into an Ivy League college and -- poof -- all problems magically vanish.

More and more is not the answer. It will never be enough.

As cheesy as it sounds, and I didn't believe it myself for years, happiness comes from within. Pride in achievement is short-lived and hollow. But finding satisfaction in the work of learning, that's the real gift of education. Why aren't we teaching this in schools?