The toxicity of smart-shaming

By Herman M. Lagon

Smart-shaming has a way of slipping into places it should never be — in the corners of classrooms, in between jokes on a group chat, even inside faculty rooms. Over time, it has quietly turned spaces meant for learning into places of quiet humiliation. A student shares a thoughtful answer and is met not with encouragement, but with a sarcastic “Ikaw na!” or “Ang talino mo naman!” — comments often said half-jokingly, half-resentfully. They may seem harmless at first. But repeat them enough, and they start doing real damage. Before you know it, the student begins to question not just the answer they gave, but their worth for even daring to know.

Smart-shaming takes many forms. A student who asks too many questions is called “pabibo.” Another who is always eager to recite is dismissed as a “teacher’s pet.” And when that teasing comes from adults — especially teachers — the sting hits differently. What some consider playful banter, like “Sige, ikaw na lang magturo,” can linger. It chips away at confidence, making students feel that being smart is something to apologize for, not be proud of. Many begin to withdraw, holding back their thoughts in fear of standing out for the wrong reasons.

It’s a form of quiet gaslighting. When students are constantly mocked for being engaged or insightful, they start to believe they are the problem. Comments like “Eh di ikaw na magaling” are not just dismissive — they’re corrosive. They teach students that intelligence makes them arrogant or unlikable. Over time, these comments don’t just discourage — they distort. They convince a young mind that maybe it’s better not to try at all.

And the research backs this up. A 2015 study by James Kilgour on shame in medical education showed how harmful it can be, leading students to disengage. Another by Guy Curtis in 2023 linked shame to cheating — not out of laziness, but from the fear of being judged for struggling. When students are made to feel ashamed of what they know, they may decide it’s safer to stay silent — or worse, to pretend they know nothing at all.

It’s especially painful in a country like ours, where we loudly proclaim the value of education, then turn around and mock those who embody it. We tell students that learning is their ticket to a better future, then shame them when they raise their hands too often. We celebrate top students on stage, but call them “mayabang” behind their backs. We cheer for achievers from a distance, but struggle to support them when they sit beside us in class. This contradiction cuts deep — especially when education is one of the few ways many Filipinos hope to rise.

This isn’t just about envy or insecurity. Culturally, we’ve been taught to value pakikisama — the ability to get along with others, to not rock the boat. As pointed out by Dr. Virgilio Enriquez, this desire for harmony sometimes comes at the cost of excellence. In a group where everyone is expected to blend in, the one who stands out — intellectually or otherwise — often gets pulled back down. So we end up with classrooms full of potential, but held back by the pressure to conform.

And the impact goes far beyond school. It can shape lives. Some students lower their ambitions just to fit in. Others lose their spark entirely. Take the case of teacher Tony Dizon, publicly mocked on national television for getting an answer wrong — despite his academic record. If someone that accomplished can be publicly shamed, imagine the fear and doubt it plants in students still finding their voice.

Part of what makes smart-shaming so insidious is how easily it hides behind humor. “Biruan lang,” they say. “Katuwaan lang.” But beneath the laughter is a deeper message: Intelligence is threatening. Curiosity is annoying. Deep thinking is “too much.” In a world drowning in surface-level discourse and misinformation, this is exactly the kind of mindset we cannot afford. In fact, a 2018 study by Jeannine Turner shows that students who feel shame about their performance are less likely to participate in the future. We silence them before they even begin.

So what now? We start by changing the culture. We build classrooms where curiosity is welcomed, not mocked. Where smart is not a slur but a strength. Teachers play a key role here. They need to recognize when smart-shaming is happening — whether among students or from themselves. They need to model what it looks like to celebrate ideas, not dismiss them with sarcasm.

This doesn’t mean turning schools into joyless spaces. It means making sure our humor never comes at the expense of a child’s confidence. It means reminding students that asking questions, challenging ideas, and thinking deeply are not things to be embarrassed about — they’re things to be proud of. As Thomas Edison once said, “Restlessness is discontent, and discontent is the first necessity of progress.” That same restless curiosity should be our students’ fuel — not their burden.

In a world where viral videos and quick takes often drown out depth, we need to protect those who still choose to think deeply. Let us stop rolling our eyes at the student who always raises their hand. Let us start seeing them for what they really are: brave, engaged, and unafraid to be different. When we do that, we do more than defend them — we give them permission to grow into the thinkers, creators, and leaders this country desperately needs.

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Doc H fondly describes himself as a “student of and for life” who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed by or connected with.