I shrink in the company of Sarcasm. I’m admittedly deficient, two steps behind when it comes to her volley of shrill phrases. When she enters the building, I chuckle a bit but rarely participate. I acknowledge that, on edge of her spectrum, chatter is light-hearted, friendly. Still, try as I might, I can’t quite squeak a giggle in the midst of her raucous presence.
Recently two students in my guild moved on to explore new education paths. Both students had been part of the guild for many years. My idea was to provide an opportunity for closure by challenging writers to craft a farewell phrase. I decided to incorporate this exercise into our regular writing workshop. What better way to put my “writing is a gift” motto into action?
So we began, “Let’s craft kind words to encourage our friends as they set out on a new adventure.” Sounds simple, right?
As I watched the card I provided move from writer to writer, I anticipated reading the messages before posting them the old fashioned way. But later that day, when I sat down with a cup of tea excited to read the phrases inscribed on the card, my heart sank. There she was, Sarcasm, smirking in all her glory, “Have fun wandering the halls,” and “Happy Easter (jk),” and “Yeah, whatever, thanks for leaving me behind,” and “Life is good (not),” …not a single kind word. There were careless spelling, capitalization, and punctuation errors.
Decibels peaking, Sarcasm crossing over to the caustic zone, I wanted to shrink. At one point in the reading, I wanted to cry. Our guild is not a typical classroom where children come and go annually, most of these children have been learning together for many years. These children are respectful of and grateful for friendship. Still, not a single phrase in the card was crafted vulnerably. What in the world? I knew that this group would really miss their friends who had moved on. I knew this must be something else. Maybe they did not know how to craft vulnerable words.
