I was eating dinner with some friends last night, and I kept stopping and asking about words. I guess it’s a work hazard- teaching middle school language arts will take over your mind and life if you let it.

But I love words. I love that words have power and position and precision.

I challenge my students to be precise in their language all the time. Why say that the character was sad when you meant that the character was heartbroken? Why waste time  telling someone that you’re bored by their speech when you could tell them that their words make you want to chop off your own ears?

Language. Words.I think about them a lot. I use them. I read them. I attempt to write them. And yet I am the first one to disregard their power when left to my own devices.

A few weeks ago, I had a conversation in passing with a student about her behavior. It was so quick that I genuinely don’t recall the specifics.

But that night I got an email.

Exactly the kind of email that I hate getting .

The kind where I’m wrong.

I said something off-color in this quick conversation that really bothered my student. And in turn, really bothered her parents. I was wrong, and I needed to apologize.

I don’t even remember the words I spoke, but they were harmful.Because I was flippant with my words, I made a negative impression on my student and her parents. And even though my brain let me forget, her brain did not. As her teacher, I think I have a responsibility to be intentional with the words I leave her brain. I have a responsibility to choose my words carefully.

What I say matters.

I am working on believing this.