Words Matter

It may surprise you, but I love to talk. I know, I can hear the collective gasp of shock. I think God has a good laugh at me when I lose my voice completely. I love to speak and sing and make noise, even when no one is around to hear it. I love to read and write words. My love language is words of affirmation. I love words.

And yet, there are times when I seem to forget the power of words. I speak to people all day long. It's my job to do so. I have 200 young minds that listen to me, in varying degrees, for 43 minutes a day. Sometimes I say things in frustration to my students that I cannot believe have come out of my mouth. I say things that I would never say to an adult. Sarcasm comes spewing forth and I feel better for an instant, but I wonder if I've hurt their feelings. Yesterday I had a lunch party in my room for one period because they won a competition for raising money for cancer research. The kids did an amazing job of cleaning up, but the smell of Italian food filled the class. The two classes after lunch noticed and complained again and again. Finally, at the beginning of sixth period, I opened with, "Yes, it smells like food in here because my first period class had a party at lunch. I am sorry it smells like onions." The kids responded by shouting out simultaneously about what else it smelled like - 15 or so comments at the same time. I shouted back, "Thank you! It's not like I live in this room and have been smelling this stench for hours. I don't need you to describe every smell!" My face was turning red and they were surprised to illicit such a violent response of sarcasm. They got over pretty fast, but I certainly was mad over something pretty small.

I get used to the idea that maybe my words don't really matter. I think I can say hurtful things and they'll let it pass or I can say encouragement and it just flows past their preteen ears without making any difference. Some students respond to a discussion with me as if they had ear buds in their ears with music blaring. They smile and nod (or frown and nod) at all the appropriate places and wait for the lecture to be over.

But words are more powerful than that. I should know. I have remembered words teachers said to me ages ago. I have remembered good and bad things people have said in passing to me. Authority figures especially make a mark on my memory. (My favorite is when a teacher wanted a definition for effervescent and someone in class responded, "Brenda") I have post-it notes of encouragement that I sometimes give to my students. They say things like, "You can be proud of yourself for ..." or "I noticed something special about you today. It was..." or "You have no idea how much you helped me when..." I fill them out and just stick them to a kid's desk. I know for some kids, this is a special thing. For some I assume it means nothing...but I am wrong.

Yesterday, I was talking with a student who is really smart, but doesn't always do his work. His effort (and eventually his grade) fluctuates up and down depending on his mood. He had done nothing in class on his project that day. When I asked him during class, he said he was working on it at home. I told him that he had to do at least one part today. I checked on him at the end of class and he had not met the goal I had set for him. He had nothing. He then confessed that he had lost the paper explaining the project and didn't know what to do. He opened his notebook to show me the one part he did have and I saw a purple sticky note that said, "You can feel proud of yourself for working so much harder in math class." I gave that note to him in third quarter. He had saved it in his notebook.

On the surface this kid seems unfazed by me or my teaching. He seems too cool for school. He knows all the answers and can choose to participate or not, it doesn't matter. And yet he kept my note. He wasn't going to show it, but my words affect him.

I need to be so careful with what I say. I have the power to motivate and bring down 2oo times over every day. In my frustrations I need to be an example to my kids of what's appropriate. I need to use words that lift up, even in discipline. What a responsibility! I need to never take it lightly.

Let me end with an anecdote from one of my classes during a discussion about Einstein:
Kid 1: Wasn't it true that Einstein was only good at one thing?
Me: No, he was good at a lot of things.
Kid 1: That doesn't make me feel better about myself.
Me: But did you know that one of Einstein's teachers said that he would never amount to much?
Class in a bored, drone tone: Yes
Me: Ahh, the power of a discouraging word to motivate someone to great heights.
Kid 1: Man, now we'll never amount to anything, Miss D.
Me: Why not?
Kid 1: You encourage us too much!