Say schadenfreude.
It may be easier with a phonetic breakdown: shah*duhn*froy*duh
Schadenfreude, broken into two parts is schaden, which means harm or damage, and freude, which means joy. The combination of words bring us the practice of finding joy in another's misfortune.
Could there be anything more devilish, more repugnant, than rejoicing in someone else's misery?
We can't blame the practice on the Germans, for English has an equivalent: epicaricacy. It means the same thing as schadenfreude. They are two equally complicated words, appropriately named for a complicated emotion. For who hasn't been plagued with a glimpse of epicaricacy?
It's a hard thing to admit, but we've all had glimpses of our less-than-better self laughing at a person's mishap or secretly thinking that a wicked person deserved the misfortune that eventually befell him.
But have you ever been the target of schadenfreude? More than likely, you have, but you were unaware. The schadenfreuders laughed when you weren't looking or gossiped behind your back.
Yesterday. I was painfully aware of epicaricacy but had to endure as I was at the mercy of the IT guy.
The IT guy.
The most powerful person in the world when your computer isn't working, as is the doctor when you're sick, as is the mechanic when your car won't start.
Dependency is a difficult situation. Desperate dependency even more so.
When a video wouldn't stream and it was the plan to watch for the whole second hour of class, outwardly I was calm, but inside I was a nuclear meltdown. I gave students an alternate assignment and rushed off to find the IT guy who was the only person capable of resetting the password on a different laptop I had yet to use this year.
I was in a hurry, but he kept me captive quizzing me on my personal laptop use in a school setting. Strike one. After resetting the password, I had to create a new password. Not realizing I first had to enter the just-reset password, I kept typing in the new password and confirming the new password. Each time, the laptop belched back: passwords don't match. Strike two.
At this point, the IT man started laughing each time it didn't work.
Taking it in desperate stride, I responded, "Please laugh. I wish I were laughing."
I persisted. I rode above the humiliation because I had a greater purpose: a classroom of students waiting for my return.
After a few good laughs, the IT man admitted that he'd already had a really bad day (it was only 12:30 p.m), and thus, he was enjoying that someone else was having a bad day too.
This actually helped.
Misery loves company, and I was happy to be his very temporary companion.
Sort of.
I hadn't realized the effect his schadenfreude had on me until after class when two students came in to discuss their grades.
Student number one, was missing an assignment. I patiently explained and told him I preferred that he turn it in on Friday (mentoring day), so that he could keep up with the assignments that night.
Student number two was concerned about his failing grade and profusely apologized for falling behind. He was frustrated with his poor performance.
"Do you know how many things I look back on and wonder how could I have been so foolish? It's part of life. It's growing up. School isn't supposed to be punitive but a way to consistently develop."
We talked about the undeveloped pre frontal cortex and how we are learning to be responsible, that each mistake is part of that development.
By the time he left, he was smiling. Especially with my parting words, "Stay hopeful. Look at me, I turned out, didn't I?"
"You turned out very well."
From my earlier humiliation, I only wanted to esteem, build, and rejoice in my students' pending success.
The result is a much more pleasant and easier word to pronounce than schadenfreude and epicaricacy~~~the result, the feeling, the word, is: joy.
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