A Loud Silence

“The cruelest lies are often told in silence.”—Robert Louis Stevenson

I have been teaching high school seniors for nearly ten years, and I am currently watching four of them (“boys” who should be considered “men,”) make fun of another student for doing the right thing. Of course I interjected with a sarcastic quip—the only real way to appeal to the teenage psyche, but their taunting makes me think; why are humans innately driven to criticize what’s considered the “right thing to do?” And, why is it that group-think makes individuals feel so safe, even if their maxims are twisted and cruel? Why do we remain silent when everything inside of us tells us we are wrong? Where is integrity truly housed in the human soul, and do we all possess it?

As children, didn’t we yearn to be rewarded for standing in line quietly, for cleaning the chalk boards dutifully, for taking the dog out for a walk, or to eat (or at least, endure) all the peas on our plates before being excused from the dinner table? When a new student from Cambodia was introduced to my fourth grade class, I remember scads of hands being thrust into the air, volunteering to be the newcomer’s “buddy” for the week. I remember going to birthday parties for friends who lived in the “scary” part of my town, and I recall enjoying cake and ice cream while seated across from little boys and girls whose skin color was darker than mine. And yet, I also remember growing older and noticing how similar I was to all of my “close” friends. Suddenly the diversity inherent in childhood skating parties dwindled and melded into the necessity of sharing similar hairstyles, SAT scores, and local hangouts. It was “uncool” to be different, and it was even “uncooler” to stand up for those who were different. This trend continued well into adulthood, and I have to surmise that I am not alone. Or am I?

As adults we are conditioned (thankfully) to strive to do what’s right and to set an example for our children. We lecture and we lead, but can we really abandon our adolescent tendencies? I look around my classroom and see the positivity and the light inside these teens, and yet, so many of them have already conformed to the unspoken law of abandoning “right” for “cool.” Perhaps historical and modern psychology would point the finger at the need for all humans to feel safe and accepted—a need we hone and own in our critical, formative years, but aren’t ALL of our years “critical” and “formative?” It is often difficult to distinguish between the children and the adults in our society when you take into consideration the prejudice, malice, and injustices latent in our world.