Seasoned With Salt

Early in semesters, I tell students I’m the most un-politically correct individual they’ll ever meet. I explain that using a multiplicity of words (especially pronouns) is diametrically opposed to my composition teaching technique — promoting streamlined, efficient communication in which every word tells, thus clarifying the intended messaged — in which no words retell that told by others.

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I emphasize that because I am anti-PC, I am quick to offend. If asked why, I explain that if I don’t offend when behavior merits it, I commit an injustice by ignoring offensiveness and thereby condoning further offensive acts, which, in turn, signals to other class members that offensiveness is acceptable. Most students respect this approach, because boundaries for proper classroom conduct, respect, attentiveness, dialogue, and personal attire are definite. Recently, a student earned my wrath by responding to a question in an intentionally dull, dumb, silly way. Instead of responding to her answer by saying, “Susie, I’m sure you can respond more accurately than that; you’re sweet, nice and intelligent, so I’ll let you reconsider your response and share your thoughts with the class in our next meeting” (a typical politically correct teacher’s response), I said, “Your answer was dumb. The only reason you’ve got a F so far in this course is because I can’t give you a G.” The class howled, and Susie made a mental note never again to answer one of my questions in an offensive, non-communicative way. I digressed in my lecture to emphasize the importance of responding with courtesy, efficiency, and correctness. If unable to do so, one should say, “Forgive me, I cannot answer the question.” My digression involved a phone call to a doctor’s office. The young woman who answered said, “Dr. Soandso’s office … Susie.” Nothing more — not even “How may I help you?” “I need two medications the doctor prescribes.” Her answer: thirty seconds, total silence. The patient lost his patience. “Madam (I used a more pejorative feminine appellation), are you alive or dead?” — which brought an immediate response: “How dare you speak to me like that!” Expecting an apology, she got, “Young lady, I’ve been the doctor’s patient for twenty years. He says I need these medications daily and that he always has a supply on hand. You didn’t even bother to ask the names of the medications. They are….” — I named them. Instead of asking me to hold, she dropped the phone, and almost immediately picked it up again, indicating she hadn’t checked the shelves for the medications. What she said sent me ballistic: “Out … due next week.” Infuriated, I said, “I’m on the way to speak to the doctor. You’ll soon be looking for another job,” and hung up. Immediately the phone rang: “Mr. Reed, this is Susie. I’m so sorry … in my haste I overlooked your medications. They’re on the front desk. Can I help you with anything else today?” I was reminded of scripture from Colossians: Let your speech always be gracious … seasoned with salt….