Our Greatest Superpower
January 22, 2023
Author: Deepa Ramesh
Editor: Ava Tomlin
As a little girl, I adored school. No, seriously, I really did. It was like having a playdate — just with many other people.
When my classmates and I congregated in our rickety hardwood desks with remnants of bubblegum in a color that nobody could identify, there was an unspoken sense of unity. Together, we could be Vikings, Samurais, Unicorns, or Ninja Turtles — because what world exists for a child where he or she isn’t a superhero? For us, a group of unruly and often obstinate second graders, the villain we went to school to fight every day was boredom, and our primary weapon was laughter.
From reading stories about old people who invent things and debating whether the word “light bulb” was spelled the same in the past, or wondering after a science lecture whether the Koopa Troopas in Mario were actually little dinosaurs that didn’t evolve properly, a ripple of laughter erupted throughout the whole classroom.
I swear the whole lot of us must have giggled so boisterously because we had to clench our stomachs as the teacher continually reminded us to “pay attention” all the while trying and seemingly failing to hold back her laughter. Sometimes, it’s as though children have the whole planet nestled in the palm of their hands. They can follow the path their heart leads them on. They can light up someone else’s life with a simple smile. They can gaze up at the stars in the night sky and breathe fresh air.
Isn’t that the beauty of being a child? We just say the first witty comment that comes to mind without worrying if others will find it funny. We have the audacity of superheroes.
I’ve realized that with age, we often lose touch with our power of unbridled laughter.
For college students, school is no longer as whimsical as a carnival with a Ferris Wheel and balloons that come in every color of the rainbow, or a circus with flying elephants and magic tricks. School is a nightmare — except you are awake and have to take exams (which, for some people, might be worse than a bad dream).
During a 9 AM Organic Chemistry lecture, as my instructor continued to blabber about things invented by old people, I focused instead on my peers. They were astonishingly quiet, so much so that I wondered if it was considered taboo to even utter a peep. Some appeared downright exhausted, and I could see their heads resting on their notebook pages, eyes struggling to stay open.
We live in a world surrounded by opportunity, mystery, and adventure. Yet none of us seem to realize it. Everybody appeared distant, fragmented, and unhappy. Smiles were as fleeting as a four-leaf clover — a lucky and truly rare sight.
Glancing down at my notebook, I saw a series of pentagons and hexagons torturously winding into one another that it made my head hurt. But when I looked at it again, the same, sophisticated figure now appeared as though someone had rolled a ball of Play-Doh and sat on it.
I leaned over to tell my new insight to the girl next to me. And with that statement, she closed her notebook and started laughing. It was a simple chuckle that no one else in the room would probably hear other than me. But I could still tell that it was genuine.
Nobody laughs the same. Some people draw out their vowels, others sound like they are singing a song, and there are even people who giggle for less than a second.
But the act of laughing, of letting your smile reach your eyes. That’s always the same. It’s why laughter is always our greatest superpower.
From that day onwards, whenever I heard, said, or saw something funny, no matter how small or big, I made a habit of jotting it down. Currently, my phone is now a running list of eccentric comments regarding how the thick goggles everyone wears in chemistry labs make them look like fruit flies, and how a sociologist may never figure out if they should change a battery because we have no way of hearing from the battery if it even wishes to be changed.
Anyone can tell a joke, and anyone can laugh. I tell jokes because it makes me happy sharing them. To be funny, you just gotta love your jokes and be willing to laugh at others, and that’s what I try to do. Don’t put weight on what others think. Just go out there and say what’s on your mind.
Write down every joke that bounces around in your head, and read them all before bedtime. Feel the giggles rising in your chest like a hot air balloon, and close your eyes — knowing that even in the darkness, there is always laughter.
