A teacher must be more, much more

Rajesh Sharma

Knowledge might be the safest of possessions, but it becomes toxic if one doesn’t constantly work on it. The warning comes from Narayana who composed Hitopadesha over 10 centuries ago. The Book of Counsels, as it is called, distills much prudence and wisdom into fascinating tales for the young. Narayana must have been an outstanding teacher, possessing deep empathy and subtle discernment, besides the gift of story-telling. Much has changed since, yet the wealth he has left behind hasn’t diminished in worth. 

When I look back over the 34 years that I have been teaching, I realise how much the world has changed. Classrooms have, students have, books have. I have. And yet, the changes have only brought me closer to the heart of the adventure of teaching. There was a time when a teacher was expected to be an information provider as well. He was the primary, often the sole, skill-trainer. But easier and cheaper access to information knocked the bottom out of this stereotype. Self-skilling, aided by artificial intelligence, made redundant most of what had passed for training. Wiki in all its avatars, video tutorials, etc., are some examples. Teaching seemed to have been invaded, encroached upon, reduced. There were people who thought they were hearing the death knell of teaching. 

The truth was that teaching was undergoing an evolutionary upgrade. The changes were making the teacher’s essential function only clearer. Today, the teacher must offer more than all the smartphones. Short of this, he cannot justify his reason to be there before the students. He has to give what machines cannot. What he has to give is at once a surplus and the core. 

This, too, is a paradox. It comprises unquantifiable intangibles that have tangible but critical, and often, immeasurable consequences. The domain of the essential surplus extends to the regions of the spirit in which humans fulfil themselves freely, and most gloriously — the regions of the cognitive, the ethical and the aesthetic. 

The teacher must help students become critical and introspective search engines. He has to generate in them the spark of enquiry, without losing contact with themselves, with their humanity. What use is all learning if we lapse from ourselves? The teacher has to awaken existential awareness. What does it mean to be alive? How to make sense of the world? To act with the eye open and the tongue committed to truth and justice? With integrity, courage and clarity? No small demands these, being put on the teacher.

In Yoga Vasishtha, the sage counsels Ram, who is barely out of his teens, to study great books, seek good company, nurture contentment and tirelessly practice enquiry. Seek to understand and know yourself, he says. In faraway Athens, Socrates would teach the young to question, and begin with self-questioning. Buddha would ask people to turn the light on themselves.  

Kashmir has given us, through Shaivite philosophy, probably the complete pedagogic kit. Teaching happens when the teacher enables the students to reach the point where they can contemplate the trio together: the trio of the object of study, the method and oneself. 

Don’t we need precisely this?