Merriam-Webster named “polarization” their 2024 Word of the Year. Meanwhile, Dictionary.com just chose “67” for 2025.

The contrast is striking. One word captures our deepest divisions. The other? It means absolutely nothing… and that’s the point.

When I mentioned to my son that 67 isn’t even a word, he didn’t miss a beat in responding: “No, Mom. It’s a cultural movement.”

He’s right. An entire generation has rallied around something that means absolutely nothing. No political stance. No social cause. No barrier to entry. Just pure, gleeful absurdity—and somehow, that’s enough to make millions of kids feel like they belong to something. Watch one of any “67” celebration video, like this one from In & Out to see this phenomenon in action.

It made me wonder: What if we’ve been thinking about unity all wrong?

We spend so much energy trying to find common ground on the things that matter, like values, beliefs, goals. And those things do matter. But my son’s generation just reminded us that humans don’t only unite around meaning. Sometimes we unite around joy. Around silliness. Around the delicious, shared experience of being in on something together.

Educators can learn from this.

Think about the classes you remember most fondly—as a student or a teacher. Chances are, they had their own “67.” Maybe it was a call-and-response that made no sense to outsiders. A running joke about the broken pencil sharpener. A weird Wednesday tradition that started as a mistake and became sacred. These weren’t in your lesson plans, but they’re what made that group of people feel like a community. I still remember my favorite middle school math teacher shouting the same phrase every time he solved a problem, and eventually we all shouted it with him.

The best classroom cultures aren’t always built on shared academic goals or carefully crafted team-building exercises. Sometimes they’re built on something much simpler: shared delight in something small and silly that’s ours.

Here’s what “67” has to teach us:

Belonging doesn’t always need depth. Not every connection point has to be profound. Sometimes a silly ritual does more to help a struggling student feel included than any intervention plan.

Let students create the culture. Adults didn’t give kids “67”—they made it themselves. What if we created more space for student-generated traditions, language, and moments? What if we noticed what naturally brings them together and protected that space?

Joy is a legitimate unifier. In a world that constantly asks young people to have opinions on everything, plan their futures, and join the right activities, there’s something radical about uniting around nothing at all. Just because.

We talk a lot about creating inclusive classrooms. But true belonging isn’t just about being included. It’s about being part of something joyful. A place where there’s room for the absurd alongside the important, where inside jokes live next to important learning, where “67” and critical thinking can coexist.

So here’s my challenge: What’s the “67” of your classroom? And if you don’t have one yet, what space are you creating for it to emerge?

Because in the end, we don’t just learn together. We belong together. And sometimes, belonging starts with something wonderfully, beautifully meaningless.

P.S. If you’d like to learn a little more about the background of 67, watch this adorable video from LA Public Library and remember – always ask a librarian!