I had to learn this one the hard way.
About this time last year, I had one of those moments that made my heart sink.
I made a sarcastic comment in a class that landed the wrong way.
It didn’t single any student (or group of students) out.
It didn’t push any inappropriate boundaries.
99 percent of students laughed and thought nothing more of it.
But one student felt differently.
Like a lot of teachers, I use humor in my classroom to help kids feel comfortable. I figure if I can get them to laugh, I can get them to open up. And, in general, this is true.
But this one time, one student didn’t love the joke.
And when I found out (through a colleague), I felt terrible.
If you’ve ever experienced student disappointment, I’m sure you know the feeling. For most of us, it’s our greatest fear. After all, if I teach my students nothing else, I want to teach them that they have value, regardless of who they are, what they believe, or how they identify.
In reflection, I realized that, though the joke might make students laugh, it didn’t do the one thing I desperately try to do every day in my classroom.
It didn’t build anyone up.
It wasn’t meant to tear down, either. But who cares?
Because the purpose of the comment wasn’t to make people feel better about who they are. It was just to get a few laughs.
And that’s a problem.
I could easily rationalize it all away. Well, it’s just a joke. This kid is being too sensitive. It made others laugh. My intention was good.
I had to shut all that down and own my mistake.
A colleague of mine (and a great teacher) has the following sign in her classroom:
And this is so true. I teach more than 130 students a day. I have no idea where they all are in life.
The only way to give everyone value is to make sure every word is intentionally kind.
I didn’t know what student I’d upset, so I apologized to every one of my classes. Most classes were confused. They didn’t even remember the comment. It left no impression on them at all.
And that wasn’t good enough for me, either. Because as much as I don’t want to make my students feel anything less than awesome, I also don’t want to spend my time saying things that have no effect at all.
I made a decision that day that no comment is good enough unless it’s meant to help someone find value in who they are.
And I’m sure I’ll fail again, as even great educators do.
But until then, the least I can do is build others up.