By Esther J.K. Attiogbe (PhD), Senior Lecturer, University of Professional Studies Accra
There is a moment many university students know all too well. A classmate raises their hand, ventures an answer, mispronounces a word, struggles to be composed – and the room erupts in laughter and giggling. In seconds, that student shrinks. Their hand will not go up again. Not today. Perhaps not ever.
What looks like harmless amusement in a lecture hall is, in truth, one of the most quietly destructive forces in higher education. It does not leave bruises, but it leaves scars – on confidence, on academic identity, and on the lifelong relationship a young person has with their own intelligence. This phenomenon happens too often among undergraduate students, and we need to talk about it.
The Moment of Ridicule and What It Actually Does
Human beings are wired for belonging. From childhood, our brains register social rejection with the same neural intensity as physical pain. When a student is laughed at in front of their peers (people they respect, compete with, and want to be accepted by), the psychological blow is immediate and disproportionate to the moment itself. Psychologists call this phenomenon public shame, and its effects on learning are well-documented.
When shame enters the classroom, the brain’s threat-response system activates. Cognitive bandwidth narrows. Curiosity retreats. The student is no longer thinking about the subject matter – they are managing emotional survival. They become preoccupied with not being seen, not being wrong, not being laughed at again.
This is not shyness. This is intellectual self-protection, and it is entirely rational given what they have experienced.
The Long Shadow It Casts
What is particularly concerning is that the damage rarely stays in the lecture hall. Students who are ridiculed in academic settings begin to internalise the laughter as truth. Over time, they construct a damaging narrative about themselves: I am not smart enough. I do not belong here. I should not speak. This narrative, which psychologists term learned helplessness, corrodes academic performance, erodes participation, and quietly extinguishes ambition.
Students who once dreamed of presenting at conferences, leading teams, or standing before boardrooms begin to opt out of every opportunity that requires them to be visible and vulnerable.
The professional implications are equally grave. The workplace demands communication, public reasoning, and the courage to offer ideas under scrutiny. Students who have been laughed into silence in lecture halls frequently enter professional life carrying that same paralysis. They hesitate to speak in meetings. They withhold contributions. They shrink from leadership precisely because, years earlier, a roomful of classmates taught them that being wrong in public is something to be ashamed of.
And let us be honest, none of us is always right. Learning, by definition, requires being wrong first.
What the Laughing Student Does Not Realise
To the student who laughs, and many do so without malicious intent, it may feel like a fleeting, inconsequential reaction. A reflex. A shared moment of amusement that is forgotten by the time they leave the building. But consider this: you are sitting in that lecture hall because someone believed in your potential enough to offer you a seat.
Your classmate beside you is sitting there for the same reason. They are not performing for your entertainment. They are doing something profoundly courageous – thinking out loud in public, offering an idea before they are certain it is correct, trusting the room with their vulnerability. When you laugh, you are not simply reacting to a mispronounced word. You are telling that person that their attempt at growth is ridiculous. You may forget the moment in an hour. They may carry it for a decade.
That is a weight no one should leave on another person’s shoulders without realising it.
What We Can Do Instead: A Guide for Students
Changing a culture requires deliberate practice, not just good intentions. Here are concrete steps every student can take to build a lecture hall where everyone is free to learn:
- Pause before you react. When something strikes you as funny, ask yourself: Is this a moment of shared joy, or am I laughing at someone’s expense? That single pause can interrupt an unhelpful reflex before it becomes harmful.
- Replace ridicule with curiosity. If a classmate gives an answer that seems incorrect, lean in with interest rather than amusement. Consider that they may have a perspective you have not yet understood, or that you, too, have been wrong before.
- Offer supportive feedback. If you are invited to respond to a peer’s contribution, lead with what is useful. Acknowledge what they got right, and add gently to what could be stronger. Feedback is a gift — wrap it accordingly.
- Speak up when others laugh. Silence in the face of ridicule is complicity. You do not need to deliver a lecture. A quiet “Let them finish” or “Good point, actually” directed at the person who was laughed at can be profoundly restorative.
- Normalise being wrong. Share your own mistakes and uncertainties openly. When students see that intellectual humility is respected and not ridiculed, the culture begins to shift. Courage is contagious — and so is kindness.
- Celebrate effort, not just brilliance. Acknowledging a classmate for trying — for raising their hand even when uncertain — reinforces that participation itself is valuable. Communities that celebrate effort produce bolder, more resilient thinkers.
- Reflect on your own experience. Think of a time you were uncertain, vulnerable, or wrong in front of others. How did it feel to be supported? How would it have felt to be mocked? Let that empathy guide your response to your peers.
A Lecture Hall Is a Community
Universities across Africa are producing the next generation of teachers, doctors, engineers, entrepreneurs, and policymakers. The habits students form in lecture halls, for example, how they treat knowledge, how they treat uncertainty, and above all, how they treat each other, will define the institutions and communities they go on to build.
A lecture hall where students feel safe to be wrong is a lecture hall where students dare to be brilliant. It is where the quietest voice in the room might one day offer the idea that changes everything. If only they had never been laughed into silence.
Speak up for the people who have no voice, for the rights of all the misfits; speak out for justice, stand up for the poor and destitute (Proverbs 31:8-9). These verses in Proverbs are a biblical call to action for justice and advocacy. It commands leaders and individuals to speak up for the vulnerable, defend the marginalized, and judge fairly on behalf of the imperfect. We are all still learning in every lecture. Let us make sure that every student feels free to do so.
The author is an educator and advocate for inclusive, psychologically safe learning environments in African higher education.
