"I Used to Be the One Who Made Fun of Others" I used to be the one who made fun of others in class. I didn’t do it because I hated anyone, or because I was a bad person. I did it because it was “funny.” Or at least, that’s what I thought. I was the kind of kid who always had a quick comment, a silly imitation, or a joke ready for someone else’s mistake. If someone messed up while reading aloud, I’d mutter something that made the others laugh. If someone had an old backpack or spoke differently, there I was with a joke. And of course, everyone laughed. My friends applauded me, and for a moment, I felt like I had control of the room. Like being the funny one gave me value. And the truth is... I never stopped to think about how others felt. Because it wasn’t “that bad.” Because it was “just a joke.” One day, a new kid joined the class. Marcos. Quiet, shy. He always kept his eyes down, like he wanted to disappear. He didn’t talk much to anyone. The following week, our Language teacher asked us to read a passage from a story aloud. It was his turn. Marcos stood up, the book trembling in his hands. He started reading… but he kept stumbling. He paused. He stuttered. His voice was so soft, like he was afraid someone might hear him. And then, like always, my friends looked at me. Waiting for me to say something funny. To do my usual act. But I didn’t. Because at that moment... I saw his face.