9.10.2004
teaching
I heard an interview on the radio just now, and it offered a spectacular vision of teaching. It comes from Father Gregory Boyle SJ, a Jesuit priest and community activist in Los Angeles, who works with former and current gang members in one of the poorest sections of the city. It was told during an interview with Terry Gross, whose show, Fresh Air, is one of the most popular and long-running programs on National Public Radio. One of the young men that Fr. Boyle had been working with had a dream where the two had been in a pitch black room with no windows. In that dream, no words were exchanged and it was impossible for them to see each other, yet they knew of each other's presence. Fr. Boyle took a flashlight out of his pocket and shined it at the light switch, which the young man then switched, filling the room with light. As Fr. Boyle tells it, as this young man relates the dream, he begins to sob and says with the conviction of one who has had an epiphany: "the light is better than the darkness."
As teachers, it was impossible for me to turn the light on in my students' minds on my own: no teacher can spark that kind of instantaneous knowledge acquisition. But it was my duty to point my flashlight and show the student where the switch was. What was hard about teaching Latin was that in addition to pointing my little flashlight at the light switch, I also had to convince the student that the light is indeed better than the darkness. Many middle schoolers, and fully grown adults, for that matter, are convinced that the darkness is better, or at least, it's not worth their effort to find the light.
My father, interestingly enough, had another view of teaching. He was a professor of Landscape Architecture for many years, and I truly admire him for his love of teaching. He had a friend from college or graduate school who ended up as the lead designer for the Howard Johnson chain of hotels. It was his job to take a unique and untouched piece of land and turn it into a recognizable and cookie-cutter facsimile of the established Howard Johnson look. This, my dad said once, was like teaching: you take a fresh and untouched mind and mold it to exactly the same as everyone else. I can't say that I agree, but it's interesting, no?
As teachers, it was impossible for me to turn the light on in my students' minds on my own: no teacher can spark that kind of instantaneous knowledge acquisition. But it was my duty to point my flashlight and show the student where the switch was. What was hard about teaching Latin was that in addition to pointing my little flashlight at the light switch, I also had to convince the student that the light is indeed better than the darkness. Many middle schoolers, and fully grown adults, for that matter, are convinced that the darkness is better, or at least, it's not worth their effort to find the light.
My father, interestingly enough, had another view of teaching. He was a professor of Landscape Architecture for many years, and I truly admire him for his love of teaching. He had a friend from college or graduate school who ended up as the lead designer for the Howard Johnson chain of hotels. It was his job to take a unique and untouched piece of land and turn it into a recognizable and cookie-cutter facsimile of the established Howard Johnson look. This, my dad said once, was like teaching: you take a fresh and untouched mind and mold it to exactly the same as everyone else. I can't say that I agree, but it's interesting, no?
