Everyone gets hurt sometimes. Do you have a scar or a recurring pain that reminds you of an old injury? Or a story about a time you were hurt that you often tell to friends?
Looking back on this injury now, do you ever laugh about how it happened? Or do you just cringe at the painful memory?
In “Adding Insult to Injury,” Pamela Paul writes about being hurt — and what it tells us about being human:
The human body has all sorts of ways of getting hurt and just as many ways of thinking about those injuries. There are minor bruises and major mishaps. There are injuries visited upon one’s body by someone else and those that are self-inflicted. Deliberate wounds and accidental injuries. Active and passive ways to subject oneself to pain. Like many writers, I tend to think of injury in terms of the kind of story it tells: comedy or tragedy, a tale brave and self-sacrificing, or mortifying but useful at a cocktail party. A good account of injury can reveal strength, character, forbearance, humility.
The most exemplary stories of all are of the Jeremy Renner-run-over-by-a-snowplow-while-saving-a-nephew variety. Both tragic and heroic — and who would expect anything less from an Avenger? Similarly heroic are injuries endured by women who give birth under all manner of difficult but “natural” circumstances. And of course, there are sporting injuries that involve skydiving, parasailing or jumping across rooftops. The story of Tom Cruise’s broken ankle makes for an excellent tale, by turns terrifying, excruciating and inspiring. These are all instances of well-earned pain. They even have happy endings.
This is not how I come by my hurt. Which isn’t to say I don’t get injured all the time; I do. As someone with both low pain tolerance and low body awareness (I move through the world like a pair of eyes, as if no shoulders or limbs were attached), I am constantly walking into poles and walls. I chipped the bridge of my nose fumbling to the bathroom one night. I walked into a glass wall at a Miami restaurant after only one drink. An old boyfriend nicknamed me Lumpy, and careening with three left feet from one unexpected doorstep to another, I couldn’t even pretend to be offended. Growing up, I’d managed to fall three times from high places and land flat on my back, once off the second story of an A-frame house.
This last produced enormous merriment among my brothers, and in hindsight, it makes me laugh, too. (I was too concussed to find humor in the moment.) Of course, of course, it’s terrible getting hurt; injuries aren’t funny. Yet the stories we tell about our injuries often are, especially for people who, like me, have a banana-slip sense of humor. I’ve had to defend myself many times for laughing at injuries, because it seems to betray a sadistic streak or profound malevolence. What could be more sinister than laughing when someone gets hurt?
But having given it some thought — call it defensiveness if you like — I think people laugh at stories about injuries because they reveal something endearing about the human condition. It’s what makes slapstick humor deeper and more sophisticated than tends to get recognized. We all like to think of ourselves as in control, at least in control of our own bodies, if not of the nation’s electoral system or of world peace. This is what makes our eternal surprise at getting hoisted by our own petard so amusing. We never think we will tumble down the stairs until we’re actually falling. We are forever startled by our ability to trip ourselves up.
Students, read the entire article and then tell us:
Have you ever been injured? Tell us the story. Where were you? Who were you with? What happened? How? How did you feel?
Although Ms. Paul finds humor in her accidents, not all of us look back on our injuries and laugh. Did your injury affect your life in a significant way? When you look back on it now, what does this event mean to you?
Ms. Paul writes that a good account of an injury can be comedic or tragic, heroic or happy, embarrassing or inspirational. What kind of story does your injury tell?
How would you describe your relationship to injuries? Are you someone who, like Ms. Paul, often has bumps and bruises from falling, tripping or walking into things? Are you a person who is often hurt from sports or other activities? Or do you avoid doing anything risky because you’re afraid of being in pain?
Are you the type of person who laughs when others are hurt? Why or why not? Ms. Paul writes, “I think people laugh at stories about injuries because they reveal something endearing about the human condition.” Why do you think people sometimes find injuries funny?
Students 13 and older in the United States and Britain, and 16 and older elsewhere, are invited to comment. All comments are moderated by the Learning Network staff, but please keep in mind that once your comment is accepted, it will be made public and may appear in print.
Find more Student Opinion questions here. Teachers, check out this guide to learn how you can incorporate these prompts into your classroom.
