While student rulebooks routinely label swearing as a form of misconduct, the reality in today’s classrooms is far more nuanced. Many teachers find it hard to address, as students often use offensive language casually — sometimes to vent frustration, sometimes to assert identity, and at times, unfortunately, to wound others. Yet research shows that swearing, when used with intent and in the right context, can have psychological benefits. It can increase pain tolerance, enhance physical performance and, in certain social settings — especially among adolescents — serve as a tool for bonding, signaling closeness and trust.

This paradox calls for a more thoughtful approach — one that helps students develop a filter for language that balances expressiveness with respect. Rather than simply policing language, educators might frame swearing as a rich linguistic and cultural phenomenon worthy of academic discussion. Doing so would allow students to explore the difference between profanity that expresses emotion or solidarity and hate speech meant to harm and incite fear or division. More importantly, they would learn how language use must vary with context. After all, becoming a mature communicator means using language strategically — something tied to voice, identity and social awareness. Language, like conduct, must fit its setting — just as sermons don’t belong in clubs and screaming doesn’t belong in operas.

Still, a pressing question remains: to what extent should teachers, parents or school administrators regulate student speech? In the landmark US Supreme Court case Mahanoy Area School District v. B.L., the court ruled in favor of a student who had posted a profanity-filled message on Snapchat criticizing her school’s cheerleading team. The decision reaffirmed that public schools cannot punish students for off-campus speech unless it causes a substantial disruption to school activities — underscoring the enduring strength of students’ First Amendment rights. At the same time, the court emphasized that much of the responsibility for off-campus behavior properly rests with parents, not schools — highlighting the risk of overloading educators with roles they were never intended to bear.

This ruling has significant implications in the digital era. As students increasingly turn to social media for expression and community, schools must carefully balance the duty to maintain a safe and respectful environment with the legal and ethical boundaries of free expression. This points to the growing need for education in digital citizenship — curricula that address not just online manners, but also legal, ethical and civic responsibilities. Sadly, such instruction is nearly absent in Korean schools, where even basic citizenship education has been quietly sidelined.

While the law protects students' rights to express themselves, it does not absolve schools of the need to address the impact of language within the classroom. Striking the right balance between free speech and community well-being remains one of the most sensitive challenges educators face today. Attempts to stamp out profanity through punishment alone — treating it like verbal pollution or enforcing unrealistic standards of linguistic "purity" — rarely succeed and often provoke defiance or deepen disconnection.

When approached thoughtfully, even misconduct can become a teachable moment — an opportunity to guide students toward thoughtful and empathetic expression. A more constructive path lies in open, nuanced conversations about language. Students should be guided to understand why some words cause harm and how language choices shape relationships, communities and power dynamics. But if we are to take such character education seriously, our school systems must evolve to value not only academic excellence but nonacademic growth as well. That means holding parents socially and legally accountable when they neglect their children’s emotional and moral development. It also means recognizing and rewarding civic engagement, leadership and ethical conduct alongside performance in math, science, the arts or sports. Only then can we truly say we're preparing students for life — not just for tests.

This conversation feels especially relevant in 2025 — a year that has laid bare the moral bankruptcy of many of our so-called elites. We have witnessed glaring failures in public service and ethics, particularly within the judiciary and government in Korea. Ironically, many of those implicated share a common alma mater: Seoul National University. It appears that while the university excels at instilling pride, greed and entitlement, it leaves behind moral leadership, a sense of service to others, empathy for the marginalized and the courage to stand up for justice and democratic principles with integrity.

At this moment, I honestly don’t know where we should begin to rebuild trust in our elite institutions or reclaim what higher education was meant to be in cultivating our nation’s best minds. But I do know this: the occasional swearing of teenagers is the least of my concerns. Far more dangerous is when political leaders, public officials and judges trade justice for fear and greed, cloaking corruption in authority. Their language — steeped in hypocrisy, vanity and impunity — is the kind of profanity we should truly find unforgivable.

Lim Woong

Lim Woong is a professor at the Graduate School of Education at Yonsei University in Seoul. The views expressed here are the writer’s own. — Ed.


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