I’ve never been one to use emoticons. I used to think this was because of my age — I’m solidly in my middle years — but then I realized that few communication innovations run more counter to my basic nature than the emoticon. A stoic, not traditionally-feminine mid-Westerner, I’ve never gone in for smiley faces, exclamation points or little hearts to dot my “i”s. It’s notthing so serious as a pet peeve (or whatever other term we might use to clothe our grumpiness). I’ve just never liked or felt natural using them.
How strange and disorienting, then, that I am now a frequent flyer in the land of smiley faces. It happened recently, when in the midst of a frenzied summer of preparing a new online course, I announced to my partner: “I’ve just become an emoticon user.” Much to her amusement, I promptly began clumsily experimenting with them, not only in my class materials, but in texts and emails to her about groceries or house repairs.
It wasn’t that my personality had changed or that my implicit aversion had diminished. Rather, I had decided to embrace advice I’d picked up about the critical importance of engaging warmly and personally with online students. Written communications are easy to misread, experienced online teachers warned, and so small cues (like emoticons) can go a long way toward softening the natural tendency toward defensiveness. In short, I made friends with the emoticon because I desperately I wanted to be an excellent online teacher.
I didn’t stop at emoticons, but also began to make exaggerated efforts to express the positive, for example, beginning messages that contained critical feedback with a statement of my confidence in students’ abilities to succeed. I was also more consistent about ending most messages with a micro-pep talk. The cherry on my communication sundae often became an exclamation point or an emoticon. I’d made efforts similar efforts to be positive with face-to-face students, of course — one learns that early on — but I became a kind of sincere caricature of that positive, encouraging teacher in the online classroom.
Because I am a low affect person — in public, at any rate 🙂 — with a deadpan sense of humor, I already know that my warmth and good will can be difficult for others to recognize. Despite my efforts over the years to connect more warmly and positively with face-to-face students, they still sometimes say they are intimidated by me or seem unable to absorb the positive feedback I provide. Even though I think some of this is explained by plain old sexism — women are unfairly expected to be nurturing as men are not — it can become a barrier to learning.
I’m not sure how much of a difference the emoticons are making in my online classes — I don’t have a control group — but it does seem to smooth the way for students to reach out to me (often with their own emoticons!). But the most interesting consequence has been how the spirit of the emoticon, experimenting with cranking up my effusiveness overall, has slipped into my other communications. If I believe that my students might be misreading me in ways that lead to resistance and defensiveness, then why not make the same corrective efforts when communicating with peers?
Like most of the online strategies I explore in this blog, this one’s probably not for everyone. For some it will simply feel too inauthentic to do well, or with integrity, and for others it won’t be necessary, because easy, warm rapport with students will never be an issue. But for many of us, the language of the emoticon is worth playing with, not only for what it can add to our teaching, but also for its power to help us reconsider communication styles we’ve come to think of as basic to who we are.