The Day My Class Turned into a 67-Chanting Cult (And Why It Was Weirdly Genius)
Picture this: You’re halfway through a painfully ordinary Tuesday math lesson when suddenly, the kid in the third row mutters “67” under their breath. Then their neighbor repeats it. Within seconds, the entire class is rhythmically chanting “67! 67! 67!” like a group of over-caffeinated monks. The teacher freezes, a whiteboard marker slipping from their hand. Welcome to the day my class decided to turn a random number into a cult anthem—for the 67th time this year.
If you’ve ever witnessed this brand of classroom chaos, you know it’s equal parts baffling and hilarious. But beneath the absurdity lies a fascinating truth about how teenagers bond, cope with boredom, and even hack their own learning. Let’s unpack why students turn numbers into inside jokes—and why teachers should sometimes lean into the madness.
The Science of Absurd Inside Jokes
Classrooms are pressure cookers of social dynamics. Students spend hours together in a structured environment where spontaneity is scarce—until someone cracks the code. In this case, “67” became our classroom’s version of a secret handshake. Psychologists call this emergent norm theory: groups spontaneously create shared behaviors that feel oddly meaningful, even if they’re objectively ridiculous.
The number 67 wasn’t chosen for any deep symbolism. It likely started as a throwaway joke—maybe someone missed problem 67 on a test, or it’s the age of a notoriously strict teacher. But repetition transformed it into a social glue. Every time the chant erupted, it reinforced three things:
1. “We’re in this together”: A collective act of mild rebellion against routine.
2. “We get the joke”: Instant inclusion for those chanting; confusion for outsiders.
3. “We control the vibe”: A fleeting shift from “students” to “co-conspirators.”
Teachers often mistake these moments as distractions, but researchers at UCLA found that such micro-rituals actually improve classroom cohesion. Shared laughter reduces stress hormones and primes brains for collaboration. The catch? These rituals need to be student-led to feel authentic.
Why 67? The Unspoken Rules of Nonsense
Not all numbers get this VIP treatment. There’s an unspoken algorithm to classroom meme culture:
– Repetition potential: Must be easy to chant (single or double syllables work best).
– Ambiguity: No obvious meaning, allowing everyone to project their own inside joke.
– Conflict-free: Numbers tied to sensitive topics (grades, personal drama) won’t stick.
– Teacher reactability: Ideal if it mildly irritates educators without crossing lines.
In our case, “67” hit the jackpot. Our math teacher’s exasperated “Not this again!” became part of the ritual. Students aren’t just bonding with peers—they’re negotiating power dynamics with authority figures through humor. It’s a safe way to test boundaries: How far can we push this before it gets shut down?
The Hidden Curriculum of Classroom Memes
While teachers panic about lost instructional minutes, students are mastering soft skills:
1. Improvisation: Each chant evolves—some add clapping, others whisper dramatically.
2. Social calibration: New students quickly learn when/where to chant without disrupting tests.
3. Emotional regulation: A 10-second goof-off resets focus better than forced “mindfulness breaks.”
4. Cultural literacy: Decoding why 67 > 68 or 42 requires social awareness.
A high school in Oregon actually studied this phenomenon. When teachers allowed brief, student-initiated rituals (like a weekly “Taco Tuesday” chant during roll call), attendance improved by 12%. The principal noted: “It wasn’t about tacos. It was about giving them ownership of the classroom culture.”
When to Lean In vs. Shut It Down
Savvy educators distinguish between disruptive behavior and productive silliness. Red flags include:
– Exclusion (chanting to mock someone)
– Derailing critical lessons
– Escalation (chanting during tests or serious discussions)
But if the ritual meets these criteria, try redirecting instead of punishing:
– Assign a “67 Ambassador” to lead the chant at appropriate times.
– Embed it in lessons: “Solve problem 67 first—you clearly love that number!”
– Document the lore: Have students write a funny “History of 67” essay.
Our biology teacher once hijacked our obsession by announcing: “Today’s lesson has 67 slides. Let’s see if you survive.” The class erupted in cheers—and stayed engaged, waiting for slide 67 (which featured a dancing cactus GIF).
The Legacy of 67
By June, “67” had become our class’s identity. Yearbook quotes referenced it. Someone made 67-themed graduation caps. And at our reunion? You bet we chanted it upon entering the venue.
These rituals aren’t just comic relief—they’re how students transform impersonal institutions into their space. The magic isn’t in the number itself, but in the collective decision to care about something trivial together. In an era of TikTok trends and fleeting digital jokes, the classroom cult of 67 reminds us: Sometimes, the dumbest inside jokes stick because they’re ours.
So the next time your class starts barking like seals or worshipping the number 67, take a breath. They’re not losing focus—they’re building the kind of shared history that turns classmates into lifelong friends. Just maybe keep earplugs handy for the 68th chant.
Please indicate: Thinking In Educating » The Day My Class Turned into a 67-Chanting Cult (And Why It Was Weirdly Genius)