Student shaming: Notes on a ritual
It’s the end of the semester, which typically means that a bunch of aggrieved profs will drag their students through the mud on Twitter and other platforms for any number of reasons. ‘Tis the season for student-shaming! This happens every term, but the nastiness of this unfortunate ritual has the potential to be so much darker in the Coronavirus era. To situate a well-known historical example in today’s context: making fun of a student who says they’ve lost a grandparent during finals week would be far more grotesque this semester than in a typical term when it’s merely a terrible thing to do. I wonder if some profs will do it anyway, even now. I wish I didn’t.
Four points of context that seem important to mention:
1. We’re in an out-of-control pandemic that has killed more than a quarter-of-a-million Americans.
2. We’re witnessing the slow-motion fall of Democracy.
3. Historically excluded folx continue to live under threat—of the virus and of the systemic oppression that is ravaging BIPOC communities especially.
4. Educational institutions are operating in ways that are severely stressing our abilities to function and be present. Our collective trauma and grief are going largely unacknowledged as administrations push for a return to “normalcy,” which—frankly—was inequitable to begin with. I don’t think we should be seeking a return to it by any stretch, but that’s a subject for another time.
Students are seeing and experiencing this moment as we are. Students are also seeing our social media posts, so if we shame them, we’re effectively doing it to their faces, in front of all our “friends” and theirs. A tar-and-feathering of our subordinates in the town square during a plague. Not a good look.
Did they wait until the last minute which then saddled us with work? Did they ask too many questions that were explained in the syllabus? Did they seek forgiveness rather than permission? Of course they did, and so did we. How many times did we ask editors for extensions, or submit something late without contacting them first? How many classes did we cancel; meetings or deadlines did we miss this semester because we. just. couldn’t keep up?
Can students be challenging and frustrating? Yes. We’re likewise challenging and frustrating to at least one other person with power over us right now too—believe it. But as “professionals” (despite all the racist and sexist connotations of that term), we trust that those above us in the hierarchy won’t publicly shame us when we miss a meeting or botch a task. Students should be able to have the same trust in us. This is a low pedagogic bar—the lowest, perhaps. It’s our extending of base-level respect. It’s our recognition of students’ humanity. It’s our acknowledgment of students’ dignity by not using the social media megaphone to broadcast their struggles and failings as somehow injurious to us. It’s showing ethical restraint.
I’m not suggesting that students never do anything wrong or that we should never get frustrated with them. I am suggesting that there is no justification for publicly dragging students who, like us, sometimes just couldn’t keep up for reasons they may not wish to share.
We can let our frustrations out behind closed doors. We can reflect on our own roles in whatever went awry and make changes for next time. We can eat ice cream or go for a run or take a nap. Whatever helps. But we can also offer grace, because at the end of a decidedly ungraceful semester, we could all use some.
Photo credit: @jeztimms on Unsplash