Dog Walk Two: License To Be Silly

Once when I was in university to become a teacher, one of my evaluating professors commended me for my ability to be silly in front of my students. It was such an interesting compliment to me that it caught me off guard. I had become accustomed to receiving feedback with a very uniform vocabulary, a sort of jargon-heavy recital of education buzz words. I had never been complimented for silliness in a professional capacity before, and I loved the juxtaposition.

Being silly is something I excel at under the right conditions. When I feel safe and relaxed, I lean back into my humour like a reliable friendship, a comfortable space that makes everyday life feel lighter. I am grateful for my ability to be goofy and ridiculous sometimes, but I know that I am only half responsible for this skill. I never would have learned to let go and be myself if it weren’t for my brother.

My brother and I are a year and a half apart. Growing up with a sibling so close in age really helped me to develop my sense of humour. Siblings have a unique role in our lives, both as companions and safe spaces to practice our social skills and conflict resolution. My brother and I learned how to fight and apologize, how to express ourselves, and how to stand up for each other. We learned how to laugh at ourselves and be confident in ourselves, at least when we are on our own. Most of all, we learned how to be silly.

My brother and I didn’t just share a childhood, we shared an imagination. Now I don’t know about other siblings, but when my brother and I were in the mood for it, we could riff off of each other with an energy unlike anything else. We seemed to complete each other’s thoughts, expanding ideas and carrying on each other’s jokes, fleshing them out into sketch comedy bits for just the two of us. We shared project concepts and stories, songs we discovered and dreams for the future. We had a trusting bond that allowed us to practice our creativity, socialization, and self-expression, supporting each other through different fashions, phases, and interests. We could be silly together, testing out nonsensical material on each other to gauge a reaction, developing a joint sense of humour. This sense of humour has carried me throughout my life, helping me to connect with like-minded people and tackle difficult experiences.

As a teacher, I am silly with my students every day. This is an intentional choice, one that I hope will foster within my students a sense of freedom to be who they are. While I was very fortunate to have my brother by my side as a kid, I know not all of my students have the same bond with their own siblings, if they even have siblings at all. Not everyone has a home or safe space or person where they can learn to let go, to be ridiculous and appreciate the whimsy in everyday life. Kids are often self-conscious and unsure, wary of the opinions of their peers and their place within society. This is particularly true with junior high, an age group where finding yourself and where you fit in society is paramount. By demonstrating to my students that it is okay to be silly sometimes, I am hoping they will begin to feel more comfortable with themselves, to laugh and create and enjoy little moments.

Sometimes, all we need is an opportunity, permission to express ourselves without fear of being made fun of. We need a license to be silly, a chance to be free of the confines of societal rules and expectations. One of my favorite things about teaching drama and dance is watching students slowly gain confidence, becoming gradually more comfortable with their own movement and voices, their humorous and playful sides of their personalities. In a modern world that is so serious and negative, it gives me hope to watch kids being kids, having fun and taking risks, shedding the social armor they wrap themselves in as they grow.

I am incredibly grateful for the memories my brother and I share. Even as adults, though we don’t see each other nearly as often as we would like, when we are reunited, it feels the same. We fall easily into our shared rapport, bouncing ideas and witticisms off each other like old times. My brother gave me my license to be silly, and now I try to give the same gift to my students. Life is too often serious and stressful, making the need for ridiculousness all the more prevalent. After all, life is too short to not be a little silly.