013: Understanding Empathy: A Tale of Two Responses
Feb 10, 2022
It was February 2020. A dear friend and I had just settled into our seats on a New York City subway to see a Broadway show. Across from us sat a man, alone in the center of a nearly empty row. He was hunched over, his gaze fixed on the grimy floor beneath him.
I watched as his right hand slowly reached toward the ground and picked up a broken piece of Oreo cookie—just one fragment among the remnants of a discarded carton. Without lifting his head, he brought the piece to his mouth, then reached again for another.
More passengers boarded, but none chose the seats beside him. Instead, they clustered together, as if avoiding him completely. My friend and I kept talking, but my mind raced:
He must be starving.
I hate being hungry.
How can I help? Do I have cash? Snacks? Anything at all?
As our stop neared, I rifled through my bag and found two protein bars. As the train stopped, I leaned toward him and gently said, “Sir, I have these two protein bars. Would you like them?”
He looked up, eyes meeting mine for the first time. “Yes, thank you,” he said.
On the platform, my friend turned to me and said, “I knew you weren’t going to leave without doing something. I saw him, too. I felt for him. But I didn’t feel compelled to act like you did.”
That moment stuck with me—and it came rushing back when I read Dr. Emiliana Simon-Thomas’s research on empathy. She describes what I experienced as affective empathy—an emotional response that drives compassionate action. On the other hand, my friend felt cognitive empathy—the ability to understand someone’s pain without the same emotional pull to intervene.
Empathy is powerful, but it’s also layered and complex. So, how do we begin teaching it to students in meaningful ways?
That subway moment reminds me that empathy isn’t always loud or grand. Sometimes it’s a protein bar and a quiet “yes.” As educators, we have the chance to help students recognize their own moments—and give them the courage to act when it matters most.