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Aug. 1, 2005 Purely Academic
Scene: a foreign language classroom. Subject of the lesson: the Spanish verb, gustar, meaning, “to like,” whose declension is most irregular. Teacher has students practice with each other by making up formulaic questions, such as, “What do Americans like?” Reply: “Hamburgers.”
Two students give the following: “What don’t the French like? They don’t like to take showers.”
Wait a minute! Suddenly an African-American student jumps up and protests — in English — at the student who gave this last answer. How dare he! The comment is “racist.” Her great-grandfather was from Martinique. French was spoken in his household. Is her colleague now implying either her grandfather or she herself smells? The
African-American student demands an apology on the spot.
The teacher who told me this incident said that the whole class was dumbfounded. Literally speechless. Nobody laughed. And yet it’s hard to hear of it without imagining somebody wanted to laugh. An African-American student who makes the accusation of racism not because she’s African-American but because she’s French! Not to mention a student who confuses a language lesson with a truth claim.
Or with a joke. Among a number or comments that could be made about this incident, the one that strikes me is that at the center is a hoary old joke about the French. It’s stupid. The national or racial stereotypes upon which so much humor is based are all stupid. However, this hasn’t stopped people continuing to purvey such stereotypes in the form of jokes. Of course much depends on the context in which these jokes are told. The classroom is no longer one of these contexts.
The above incident illustrates why: somebody is bound to be offended, and you can’t predict who. Worse, someone is likely to protest — either immediately or afterwards, perhaps to the dean. Fiction may deal with the consequences better than journalism. In one of my favorite academic novels, Mustang Sally, by Bruce Allen, the hero is foolish enough to tell a joke about a woman who asks a man to give her a seat on the bus because she’s pregnant. When the man asks how long, she looks at her watch and says, “About 45 minutes.” Some students file a written complaint, charging sexual harassment.
To relate an official response to some example of a joke, or even an unintended joke, on American campuses today is itself to appear to be telling a joke. Yet everybody knows speech codes that ban “inappropriately directed laughter” (say) are no joke. It’s not clear to me if a professor can be held accountable for a student who spontaneously tells a joke in class. But a professor in 2005 who tells a joke or his or her own would be a fool.
No matter if a careful framework had been laid out prior to the telling or if the joke was told to “illustrate a point.” Better to keep the framework humorless or the point abstract. Of course there are times in the classroom when the humor is there, suddenly, inescapably. Odd words are spoken or a stray thing happens; a professorial wink, nod, or comment is scarcely necessary to mark the comedy. Everybody laughs. And then discussion continues. (Part of the pathos of the above incident with which I began is that this did not happen.) In such contrast, a joke is a deliberate act, emanating from the person of the teller. The joke doesn’t emerge from the context. It’s imposed upon it.
Or is it? “Context” is a tricky affair. If there are actually teachers who still tell jokes to their students on a regular basis, presumably they do so either to solidify a context, or else to develop one. But the “context” of a classroom is different than that of, say, a commencement speech. I read the other day that Chris Matthews, host of an MSNBC talk show, told at this past year’s commencement a joke he once heard from Nelson Mandela, about Joseph begging the innkeeper for a room: “My wife is pregnant.” “It’s not my fault,” protests the innkeeper. “It’s not my fault either,” answers Joseph.
We are not told where Matthews spoke. Presumably it wasn’t at a religious college. Or is the point that the authority of Mandela enables Matthews to elude a charge of mild irreverence? Or is it that commencement speakers, unlike professors, are culturally authorized to tell jokes? Of course we could extend these questions no end, including how a joke is different than a quip, a squib, or a witticism, or how laughter is not the same thing as
a smile.
My point begs to be a simple one: Jokes no longer play a significant role in American higher education because they have been effectively banished from the classroom. Why? Paradoxically, because the bonds of campus “community” are so frail. No jokes at least insures that none will be offended. Alas, it also insures that few will feel affirmed.
“Community” of course forms one of our core values, invoked everywhere from an instructor’s class syllabus to the president’s last public speech. But this community at the present time is, as we say, no joke.
In a brilliant discussion of jokes in her book, Implicit Meanings, the anthropologist Mary Douglas gives the following logic: “The joke merely affords the opportunity for realizing that an accepted pattern has no necessity. Its excitement lies in the suggestion that any particular ordering of experience may be arbitrary and subjective.” Just so, what is a community but its necessary and accepted patterns? A joke tests these, each time. A strong community survives the test. A weak one fails it. Whatever the word means, and perhaps especially if it really doesn’t mean anything, academic “community” appears too fragile for the deliberate act of humor to be committed in the form of a joke.
Never mind if a hundred or a thousand exceptions come to mind. Each of them proves the rule. And, as so often in academic life, enforcement of the rule begins in the classroom with the figure of the professor. Personifying the community, he or she is empowered with authority but not the authority to tell jokes. Having begun with an incident that is founded upon a joke but was not manifest in that form, let me conclude with a similar incident from my own experience.
It took place in a composition classroom, many years ago. I had decided to experiment, and let students write anything they wanted to. No grades. The only thing they had to do, besides come in and write, was to show the results to me three times during the semester. In order to make it possible for all students to be seen regularly, I had to employ a student assistant.
Fortunately, I had at my disposal Pat, one of my best students. I told Pat to disallow nothing out of hand; just subject it to formal criteria of some sort, no matter how long or how short the writing. Above all, never laugh at anything. Toward the end of class one day, I was shocked to hear Pat suddenly begin howling! He couldn’t stop laughing. The class started laughing.
Next to Pat was one of our poorest students, who seemed to be, Pat had told me, improving. How? Through frequent visits with Pat, who praised his “narrative organization.” Trouble is, it was getting harder to judge the writing because the student was in effect telling jokes. Were jokes acceptable?
This particular day, I concluded that one of the jokes had anyway been irresistible. I was angry with Pat for laughing. But when I asked the student for his notebook the next class, I couldn’t help but laugh pretty hard myself.
He began by telling about his father, a long-distance trucker. Often when the father was home, he would take his son out to the local truck stop, just to hang out together with him, usually at the counter. Late one recent night, two women came in. They looked rough. One had on a skimpy dress. She spread out her legs after sitting down in a booth. Father and son could see she wore no panties. They tried to stop looking. Finally, the woman sneered at them: “What’s the matter? You came out of one of these, you know.” The student blushed. His father replied: “Yeah, but I never saw one I could climb back into.”
Did somebody say, “context"? I can’t imagine one today that would justify me telling this joke (just to call it that) in the classroom. Did somebody say, “community"? I can’t imagine any that at the present time would authorize me, as a professor, to tell this joke. (And few communities in which my freedom to do so, however misplaced, would be affirmed.) And yet the joke — just to continue to call it that — was told, in a manner of speaking, er, writing. Moreover, it was told at the heart of the practice of earnest classroom instruction.
By today’s standards, should I have marched the student down to the dean’s office, where he would be duly censured for sexism? Perhaps by these same standards I should have marched myself down, and written up a self-censure on the spot. If we no longer have to be confronted with jokes, what do we do with the ones that suddenly arise? Make a nervous quip about the return of the repressed? One thing for sure: the humor — such as it is — that we still enjoy in the classroom is a function of this same repression. It’s no joke.
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On the NPR show, “On The Media,” it’s noted that when the Republican-appointed judge makes a ruling against the Democrat, it’s “legal activism” to Democrats, and vice-versa. It’s like Dave Chappelle on “Fresh Air” noting that only an African-American could get away from telling jokes about African-Americans.
It’s about smug, self-satisfied yahoo’s of all persuasions, claming to have “the truth, the facts” — then crying when their “facts” are challenged. A bi-partisan academic study on who’s more humorless — Michael Moore v. Rush Limbaugh — would be readable, IMHO.
Art, at 7:18 am EDT on August 1, 2005
If Terry Caesar’s essay isn’t a satire, then I have no idea what he is talking about. I have taught 30 years, usually in super sensitive areas (rape, abortion, suicide) and humor is a central part of my delivery. It has won me several awards, and usually listed by students as the strongest part of my course (probably because they are bored by the teachers who follow Caesar’s advice). The same is true of every other top teacher I know. Context is essential mainly in that if students think that you are their enemy, they will interpret what you say poorly. If you are thought to be a teacher looking out for their best interests, then you can sound just like one of their friends. They don’t let their friends insult their racial heritage, of course, but they do prefer humor.
marty, at 9:50 am EDT on August 1, 2005
One solution to “no jokes in the classroom” is to make the distinction between “telling a joke” and “relating a joke, for culturally illustrative purposes.” The teacher, of course, must be clinical in the revelation, and neither laugh nor encourage laughter, should any occur. For example, I used to teach James Joyce’s fine story “Araby.” In this exquisite tale, the young narrator intensely adores his image of the unnamed girl next door. He says “Her name sprang to my lips at moments in strange prayers and praises which I myself did not understand. My eyes were often full of tears (I could not tell why) and at times a flood from my heart seemed to pour itself out into my bosom.” I would point out to the students that this is Joyce having literary fun with the popular notion of glossolalia, “speaking in tongues.” To illustrate, I would relate (never “tell") the “joke:” What’s the worst part of being an atheist? You don’t have anyone to talk to when you’re getting a blowjob.” This relation is additionally relevant in that Joyce’s narrator is ostensibly alienated from the religious tradition in which he has been reared. Now, on my campus, this “joke” is fraught with further peril because “blowjobs” have been banished from the campus, with the possible exception of administrative offices. Only the expression “fellatio” is acceptable. Many students, of course, are not sure what “fellatio” means, and such ignorance can complicate the flow of classroom intercourse. While the “joke,” however useful and illuminating, is not strictly necessary, and therefore subject to dismissal (and prosecution) as “gratuitous” or “not germane,” in the tortured judgment of the lawyers who own and operate my otherwise public college. To be sure, Joyce himself is not strictly necessary, and anyone who values a safe, noncontroversial environment is well advised to shun him.
John Bonnell
John Bonnell, professor at Macomb Community College, at 10:10 am EDT on August 1, 2005
Marty, you’re absolutely right. I have no idea what the author is talking about, unless this is satire. I don’t know of any campus where jokes have been banned (unless your only definition of a joke is something with ethnic slurs in it).
Anna, at 10:22 am EDT on August 1, 2005
With all due respect, Mr. Caesar, your opening example has two glaring errors—first, the Spanish verb “gustar” is a completely regular verb; second, you “conjugate” verbs, “declension” refers to what is done to nouns and adjectives in an inflected language.
Daniels, at 11:56 am EDT on August 1, 2005
I don’t think Caesar means that jokes are legally banned in such language, but rather he is writing of the context of jokes and the increasing sensitivity which, rather than strengthening the community is laying bare its very weakness. I’m perplexed as to why this is so difficult to see in the article. Beyond an enacted “law” are the other realities. We can tell jokes—I sometimes do—but they are likely to be self-depricating or so “safe” as to be really funny only in the confines of a classroom (where anything might be funny to a student). The issue is not that we’re not permitted. As the article, itself states, we can think of a hundred thousand times when jokes have been told without incident, but we’ll remember the one when a student marches to the dean, and we’re left to write an apology letter or else be disciplined. If this hasn’t yet happened at your school, count your fortunes.
I first heard of public backlash regarding jokes when Bryant Gumbel, years ago, was caught telling an “off-color” joke when he mistakenly thought the cameras had stopped rolling. I don’t remember what the joke was nor do I care. I just remember the scandal. And so it goes also with the space of classrooms and the authority of teachers.
I also find intriguing the underlying question of community and authority. Instructors now have much less authority than we used to. Some even have pre-assigned, departmental syllabi and essays. Standards have always been there, but only recently that I know of has so much authority been given up to defining the moments of classrooms. Such regiments have likely been one of many causes of this loss of authority.
But this also speaks of the over-sensitivity of our culture as a whole. And again, this is what I see at the center of the article. And so is it my authority to chastise the student for telling a racial/sexual/ethnic joke or to revel in his/her freedom to do so. Are the words really that important? In comp. classrooms, yes; all we have are words. But as a relatively powerless authority figure, am I subject to penalties for an utterance of my student that offends another? That is deemed “hate speech” (whatever the hell that REALLY means)?
In this generation of teaching, most teachers I know continue in fear of a student’s complaining to a dean, because so often, the student’s sensitivity trumps all else. So can I tell a joke, since by definition, a joke often exists at the expense of someone? Someone has to look foolish; the identity of joke characters must be universalized, most often as stereotypes. Someone’s sensitivity must be offended, and as the article states, I never know whose.
Ultimately then, no joke of any sophistication can become part of a classroom lesson, because as a result of politicization of classrooms, they are simply held together by bonds not strong enough to contain the joke.
AWM, at 12:04 pm EDT on August 1, 2005
What its being confused by you critics is the difference between the type of community they set up in class which is strong and allows for jokes, and the academic community that you refer to which is weak and does not allow for any joking for the reasons you point out. Sometimes these two communities collide. You get a student who, for some reason personal or otherwise, does not participate in the classroom community, or is hostile to it. This is the student who goes to the dean because his/her greatgrandfather wore blue shirts and you just desecrated his memory by blowing your nose into your blue handkerchief.
Vincent Spina, Associate Professor, at 1:35 pm EDT on August 1, 2005
Re John Bonnell’s comment,
I don’t know if it was intended to be so, but what he wrote was pretty funny, taken out of context:
Many students, of course, are not sure what “fellatio” means, and such ignorance can complicate the flow of classroom intercourse.
Taj Moore, at 2:49 pm EDT on August 1, 2005
I always believed that having a sense of humor was a great asset for a teacher. So, as chairman of an English department search committee, I had the magnificent idea that I would ask each candidate to tell us a joke. When I sprang my request on the first interviewee, gasps filled the conference room—not just from the candidate, but also from my shaken colleagues. “You can’t ask that”; “If I were asked that, I never would have gotten this job”; “I don’t know any jokes”—were some of the comments from my colleagues. Well. scratch that idea.
normalvision, Prof.of English (ret.), at 4:05 pm EDT on August 1, 2005
Yes, indeed, American campuses can be such a humorless, ugly places. I agree with Spina and Caesar about what the sense of “community” does to the possibility of appreciating a joke. Also, I think some people added something to the poem at the base of the Statue of Liberty, “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door.” WHINERS ESPECIALLY WELCOME.
Why is it that everyone has to take offence at everything? For crying very very very out loud! This gets soooo tiresome after a while.
Another possibility for accurately describing this country is: “Land of the free and of the easily insulted.”
Or, my pain is bigger than your pain. Or, “This dress/tie/shirt makes my pain bigger, because you notice I have a dress/tie/shirt on.”
P-l-e-a-s-e! I don’t think what the article portrays is a satire; it is documentary. If you are a lucky starred professional who can tell jokes and your classroom is a perfect heaven and you are free too, GOOD FOR YOU. ENJOY IT WHILE IT LASTS.
Logan Smith, at 6:31 pm EDT on August 1, 2005
“Many students, of course, are not sure what “fellatio” means, and such ignorance can complicate the flow of classroom intercourse.” —Is it OK to say YOU’VE SAID A MOUTHFUL THERE???
albertp, at 4:14 am EDT on August 2, 2005
Terry Caesar’s article about the perils of joking in the classroom hits home. I use humor a lot in my teaching, and it makes it much better. I have won an award for outstanding teaching. But, I do not neglect content. It would be easy, I suspect, to be entertaining but not to teach, but I would hate doing that. On the other hand, too many teachers are humorless or close to it in the classroom, perhaps using very dry humor on rare occasions. There is a reason for this, besides the personality or teaching limitations of the relatively humorless professors. Academia has become increasingly puritanical and increasingly political over the years. Thus, humor can be taken as offensive to some group, and especially if they are one of the protected groups—women, certain minorities such as Blacks, Hispanics, etc.—a complaint can get a teacher in big trouble.
While it is good that teachers are made to be more sensitive about not offending people, the overly-sensitive students should not be supported in their puritanical or political complaints when the humor is really, no big deal. That is a judgment call, but I am sure the call has been changed over the years in a more repressive, puritanical direction.
One comment to Caesar mentions that he teaches about rape and other sensitive topics but is able to use humor. Perhaps. I doubt that most could do this and get away with it, but perhaps this person has figured out how to do so. As one person commented, the issue is whether the students see you as the enemy or not. If not, you have license to say certain things that you could not say—without possible penalty—if you are seen as the enemy. But, you never know. A religion teacher at one university was accused of sexual harassment because he said that Arab countries would have no concept of “date rape.” Later, the two complaining students amended their charges to say that he repeatedly raped them. When it was shown that some of their charges could not be true, due to the university being closed on certain dates when the alleged rapes were supposed to have occurred, a university administrator who was helping lead the charges against him said “I am an advocate, not an investigator” and she continued to lead the charges against him.
I recall, years ago, talking about rape in my psychology class and trying to avoid all humor, lest I be misinterpreted as not taking rape seriously. I allowed myself only the slightest of humor. Yet, when I got my student evaluations one student misinterpreted what I said, and claimed I had not made rape seem like the big deal that it is. Among other things, it accused me of saying that rape was an alternative life style (which I never said; I had talked of alternative life styles) and said “Perhaps you should be raped, then you would understand rape better.”
OK, this is one example of a student who misperceived things. There are other examples of how the slightest of humor is taken to be offensive. And, there are some professors who have had their jobs threatened or ended due to use of humor. Instead of calling it simple humor it can be called “sexual harassment” and in today’s puritanical, political atmosphere, the person’s job may be gone.
Conclusion: Humor in the classroom can be powerful and can make learning better, as it makes students more motivated. They enjoy the class more, are more likely to attend and want to attend, and, hopefully, learn the material. But, humor can also be a time bomb. You never know when someone might be offended by what you joke about, even if your joke is mild. In today’s increasingly puritanical and political campus world, humor can come back to hurt you. My advice: use it, but use it carefully.
Author’s Note:
Russell Eisenman, Ph.D. Assistant Professor of Psychology University of Texas-Pan AmericanEdinburg, TX 78541-2999
e-mail: eisenman@panam.edu
Russell Eisenman, Ph.D., Humor in Puritanical and Political Universities at University of Texas-Pan American, at 4:28 pm EDT on August 2, 2005
I always enjoy Terry Ceasar’s thought-provoking articles. Thanks IHE, for publishing them.
There’s some small merit to the “political correctness” that seemingly bans humor in the classroom. Jokes pointed at human beings present in the room will always sting, and the communal laughter that erupts can only drive the pain deeper to the person who was offended.
Ceasar rightfully points out that this can put constraints on the teacher who has a sense of humor or wants students to enjoy learning. But then again, there are laughable ideas, funny anecdotes, puns, and other forms of humor that are perfectly acceptable in the classroom. As teachers, we can get students to laugh at foolishness, at the consequences of ignorance, at unthinking regimentation. And sometimes a little self-depricating humor can go a long way. It’s worth recalling that humor transgresses status — a fool/jester can knock down a king or queen — laughter is the great equalizer. That can liberate a classroom community, if the teacher is willing to give up some status in the interest of energizing the class. And finally, humor can be studied, as in the literature class that reads a Shakespearean play.
Mike Arnzen, Associate Professor of English at Seton Hill University, at 11:47 am EDT on August 3, 2005
I can’t imagine teaching w/out laughter and humor. But it took me awhile to learn enought about the uses and limits of humor.
University humor is skewed towards mocking. It’s associated w/ the culture of critique. Or so it seems to me. Humor among colleagues is often satire or irony. I guess it’s always been so, though somehow I want to blame Mort Sahl.
So, my first lesson in using humor was to never ignore the effects of power differentials in a classroom. What I say & model has different impact. I should be cautious in using humor as a tool of persuasion — pointing out the deficiencies in others’ arguments, especially students.
As was suggested previously, self-deprecation is a useful tool, but not for someone who’s insecure in his/her authority. To invite students’ humor towards yourself requires a great deal of self-composure. To permit students to turn on others (or do it yourself) is bullying.
There’s little funny in being the target of a prof. My 1st week in law school, I attempted a poorly-conceived answer in Property. The prof looked up my name on the seating chart and then asked whether I had considered an occupation requiring manual dexterity as I clearly lacked the wit for law.
I’ve discovered that his observation was pretty commonplace in the old-timey law school, but I wonder if he was attempting to intimidate, amuse or what. But it’s an extreme version of the misuse of “humor” as a form of control or humiliation. Is it too PC to argue such uses are abusive and inappropriate in a classroom? Probably not from the perspective of the targets.
In a baseball movie, Bang the Drum Slowly, the team’s manager intervenes when a verbal joust gets too heated by saying “give is give and take is take.” So, as profs, when and how do we Take as well as Give in matters in humor? Does our use of humor open additional perspectives vs. shut down dialog? Does our humor result in embarrassment, rage or humiliation?
Finally, getting balanced and open feedback in teaching is very difficult – so, knowing how students perceive our humor and its purposes is not easily achieved. My foundational goal in teaching is to establish trust between myself & the class. To the extent I succeed, and it seems always partial, I’m less likely to be misinterpreted and more likely to get the benefit of the doubt as to my intentions.
Mike Sacken, prof of educ at tcu, at 1:34 pm EDT on August 3, 2005
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I always believed that having a sense of humor was a great asset for a teacher. So, as chairman of an English department search committee, I had the magnificent idea that I would ask each candidate to tell us a joke. When I sprang my request on the first interviewee, gasps filled the conference room—not just from the candidate, but also from my shaken colleagues. “You can’t ask that”; “If I were asked that, I never would have gotten this job”; “I don’t know any jokes”—were some of the comments from my colleagues. Well. scratch that idea.
No kidding!, at 6:20 pm EST on February 9, 2008