Karly

There’s a moment every student recognises. You need help. You raise your hand. And instead of just asking your question, you launch into something like, “Sorry, just wondering if I could maybe ask something really quick?” You’re not really sorry. You’re not even sure what “just wondering” means. But the words come out anyway, wrapped in softness, hedged by hesitation, buffered by that essential classroom currency: politeness.

Politeness isn’t just about saying “please” or not interrupting the teacher. It’s a social strategy, a survival skill. A way of navigating power, asking for space, and making yourself small enough to be heard.

In the classroom, especially, politeness does a lot of heavy lifting, and sometimes, it reveals more than we think.

What Linguists Mean by Politeness

In pragmatics, politeness is about more than being nice. It’s about managing what face theorists call “face wants”, the human need to be respected, included, and not embarrassed.

There are two types: positive face (the desire to be liked and approved of) and negative face (the desire to be left alone or not imposed upon). Every time we speak, especially when making requests, we risk threatening someone’s face. So we soften. We say, “I hate to bother you, but…” or “Would it be alright if…?” even when we’re asking something totally reasonable, like a deadline extension or whether the lecture slides are posted.

In the classroom, this becomes even more layered. Students speak with one kind of politeness when talking to professors, another when talking to classmates, and yet another when posting in discussion forums. Language shifts depending on context, relationship, and power, and those shifts are rarely accidental.

Why Students Speak in Apologies

Let’s be honest: most students learn very quickly that assertiveness can be misread. Confidence becomes arrogance. Directness becomes rudeness. Especially for women, international students, or anyone already navigating cultural expectations, there’s a pressure to sound soft, grateful, and non-threatening.

It’s why so many student emails begin with “I hope you’re well” and end with “Sorry to trouble you.” It’s why questions come out as disclaimers. It’s why asking for help feels like confessing something.

This isn’t always a bad thing. Politeness can build rapport. It can make the classroom feel like a collaborative space. But when it becomes a requirement, a performance you have to master in order to be respected — that’s when things get tricky.

Teachers Do It Too

Politeness isn’t just a student concern. Good teachers also modulate their language to avoid sounding authoritarian. They say, “Would you mind turning that in by Friday?” instead of “The deadline is Friday.” They frame instructions as invitations: “Let’s all turn to page 42,” rather than “Turn to page 42.” They ask, “Does that make sense?” even when they know it does, because it keeps the power dynamic softer, more collaborative.

This doesn’t mean the classroom is fake. It just means it’s layered. A teacher saying “Let’s take a five-minute break” is, in many cases, being polite, but they are still controlling the schedule. A student saying “Sorry to interrupt” is being polite, too, but they are still asking for knowledge.

That tension between real interaction and linguistic performance is what makes the classroom such an interesting site of study.

Language, Culture, and What’s Considered Rude

One of the most fascinating parts of classroom politeness is how cultural norms collide. In some languages, directness is respectful. In others, it’s aggressive. What sounds polite in one context might seem evasive in another. If you’re a bilingual or international student, you’re constantly translating not just words but tone, affect, and what politeness looks like to different people.

A student might get marked down for not using “polite” phrasing in a presentation, even if their first language has a completely different system for showing respect. Another might be perceived as too informal because they skipped the pleasantries in an email, even if they were trying to be efficient.

So much of classroom politeness is learned through immersion, correction, and trial-and-error. It’s less about what you mean and more about what people expect you to mean, which is basically the tagline of every pragmatics textbook ever written.

When Politeness Gets in the Way

Here’s the thing: being polite is useful. It helps us ask questions, build relationships, and get through group work without crying. But it can also be a barrier.

Sometimes we apologise for asking questions we should ask. We downplay ideas because we’re afraid of sounding too confident. We hesitate to participate because we don’t want to “take up space.” In some classrooms, the students who speak the most are the ones who’ve learned how to soften every sentence, cushion every opinion, and ask every question as if they’re sorry for having it.

And while in-person classrooms can be vibrant and communal, they also come with the unspoken rules of body language. Who’s allowed to speak next? Is it your turn? Will you seem rude for jumping in? These dynamics are rarely taught, but everyone is expected to understand them.

Ironically, turn-taking was often easier during online classes, for all their awkwardness. There was at least a button to raise your hand. A clear visual cue. A system that gave everyone the same square on the screen and the same shot at speaking up. It didn’t solve everything, but it flattened the hierarchy a little. It reminded us that participation doesn’t have to be loud or immediate to be valid.Now that most teaching is back in person, we carry those lessons with us. That digital raise-hand button was small, but it symbolised something big: a moment of structure, a shared understanding, a subtle way to say “I’d like to speak, if that’s alright.” And for students who struggle to find space in the classroom, socially, emotionally, or linguistically, that made all the difference.