How to Care About People Without Handing Out Gold Stars for Showing Up
Every semester in my public speaking class at Georgia Southern University, I require students to give a professional profile speech.
The purpose of this speech is simple: provide them with a presentation they can use when they are applying for an internship or a job. It’s a rehearsal for the moment when someone says, “Tell me about yourself” and they have about two minutes to sound like a capable adult.
Every semester, some students knock it out of the park. They prepare, practice, and deliver something polished and confident.
And some students… not so much.
It would be very easy to smile, nod, and hand out a comfortable grade. No awkwardness. No tough conversations. Everyone leaves feeling fine. But that helps no one: not the students who prepared, not the students who didn’t, and certainly not the future employer who will one day sit across from them wondering why every third word is “like.”
So instead, we do the harder thing: We work. We spend time in class fixing what needs to be fixed. Students are not allowed to hide behind substandard effort or hope that enthusiasm will replace preparation. They revise, they practice, and they learn to self-correct.
Also—and this is important—I bring game show buzzers to class.
If they say “uh,” “um,” or “like,” their classmates buzz them. Nothing builds self-awareness quite like being interrupted by a loud BZZZT mid-sentence. It turns out that immediate feedback is remarkably effective.
This is the point of this story: Empathy doesn’t mean pretending everything is fine. It means caring enough to tell the truth and helping someone improve. Standards and support are not opposites. They work together.
Here is how I try to balance care and clarity:
Acknowledge emotions. When I recognize that my students are nervous and remind them that everyone is in the same boat, they lower their defenses and open their minds to improvement.
Restate expectations. I am clear about what is required moving forward. Clarity is kinder than vague encouragement.
Offer support, not excuses. I coach them to improve, and I stay invested in their success throughout the semester.
You can care about people and refuse to lower the bar. In fact, the most caring thing you can do is help them rise to it.