When Shakespeare Meets Skibidi: The Comedy of Errors in Today’s Classroom

“Fair is foul, and foul is fair.”
When Shakespeare wrote that in Macbeth, he probably didn’t mean report cards, but honestly, it fits today’s English marks a little too well.

Once upon a time, English was the safe subject, the one that saved you when Maths attacked or Science betrayed you.
But these days? English seems to be the silent assassin pulling down averages everywhere.

When my teenager’s midterm results arrived, I scanned the sheet in disbelief.
The lowest score? English.

“English?” I asked, stunned. “You speak English all day. You text in English. You even dream in English. How?”
Without looking up from their phone, my child shrugged. “Mom, Shakespeare’s too dramatic, like he doin too much. And confusing. Like… chill.”

There it was, four centuries of literary brilliance dismissed in a sentence that probably wouldn’t pass a spell check.
And honestly? I don’t even blame the teachers. They’re doing heroic work trying to decode Hamlet for kids who think “To be or not to be” is a mental health meme.
They’ve turned into part-time translators, full-time entertainers.

So now, lessons go like this:
Romeo and Juliet = “Forbidden love between two rival fandoms.”
Macbeth = “Guy wants power, regrets instantly.”
Julius Caesar = “Group project betrayal, but make it stabby.”

And somewhere in that chaos, we realise we’ve reached a cultural full circle because “Skibidi” officially made it to the dictionary this year.
Shakespeare got sonnets; Gen Alpha got Skibidi. Both changed language forever, in their own bizarre way.

But while Shakespeare battles for relevance, another quiet tragedy unfolds, the death of letter writing.

There was a time when English exams started with perfect margins, proud salutations, and a “Yours faithfully” that wrapped it all neatly.
Now it’s: “Hey. Need this done. Regards.”

No address. No punctuation. No patience. Just pure Gen Alpha energy.

Ask them for an informal letter to a friend, and you’ll get:
“Yo bro. Long time. How’s life. Anyway gtg. Bye.”

Shakespeare said, “Brevity is the soul of wit.”
Gen Alpha says, “TL;DR.” (That’s short for Too Long; Didn’t Read.)

Shakespeare said, “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”
Gen Alpha says, “She’s being extra.”

Shakespeare said, “Parting is such sweet sorrow.”
Gen Alpha says, “Bye lol.”

And yet, somewhere between the memes, the emojis, and the short forms, magic still happens.

A student pauses mid-class and says, “Wait, ‘To thine own self be true’? That’s actually lowkey deep.”
That’s when time folds. A 17th-century bard and a 21st-century teen finally speak the same language.

The teacher smiles quietly. Because even if the marks dip and the grammar wobbles, something beautiful has taken root.
The essays may have shrunk to bullet points. The letters may have disappeared.
But the love for words, for meaning, still flickers beneath the blue glow of a screen.

So yes, maybe the art of English is changing.
But as Shakespeare would say, “All’s well that ends well.”
Or as Gen Alpha might put it, “Canon event.”