Thursday, April 22, 2010

The Pride of a Teacher

It strikes me that being a teacher, instructor, or professor of any kind in any subject is one of the most conducive professions to pride in the world, short of political leaders. Teachers face an unending stream of other people who are less informed, less accomplished, and less educated than themselves. The very existence of students is a constant boost of the ego of teachers, an ever-new reminder that they are superior.

As if this constant reminder was not sufficient reason for vanity, the actual task appointed to teachers reinforces this attitude. The teacher’s job, after all, lies in bringing up the students to their supposed level of intelligence, education, and sophistication. They are always pointing out things the students miss, informing them of facts or theories the students were ignorant of, and evaluating students’ work for errors, a tacit acknowledgment that the teachers are more expert in their discipline than the students. It’s a vicious cycle. I begin to understand the attraction of teacher, especially on the college level, the level I myself am most interested in.

The modern format of English classes, at least where I attended school, was supposed to counter this dynamic by having the class form in a circle, no one person at the “front” of the class depositing information to those listening and taking notes. In true Arthurian fashion, no one person is elevated above another. Yet even this equality is fundamentally flawed, because even when a student offers an opinion or several engage in a debate over the interpretation of a text, the final authority and arbiter of the dissension always ends up being the teacher. They are the “expert” on the text (they must be; they’re teaching it, after all, right?). And at the end of the day, or more accurately, the term, the students are submitting work and the teacher is evaluating it and assigning grades, as clear a delineation of roles as you will find nearly anywhere.

Now, this is not to say that all students are passive receptacles, empty vessels that consume and accept everything their teachers say. The very purpose of most composition and literature classes are directed toward the development of the individual voice of the student, a definite ability and opinion when it comes to textual analysis and aesthetic appreciation. And I have found that students who were challenged in high school English classes come prepared to offer very definite opinions on texts. This is commonly referenced by egalitarians as evidence that teachers don’t consider themselves better than students: “See, we allow diverse and opposing voices to be heard. Even if we know they’re wrong or uninformed we permit it.” But the very fact that teachers permit “dissension” relates the true attitude they hold, namely, that if they chose the students would not be allowed to render alternative readings or interpretations to the teacher’s.

Is this situation absolute and unequivocal? By no means. There are a great many teachers who understand that no matter how long and how thoroughly they study and ponder and teach texts and techniques, there will always be more to learn. I was reminded just the other day the thrill of introducing a text one has read and taught numerous times, and hearing an entirely new theory or interpretation from a student. It’s like discovering the text for the first time all over again, and that is the greatest satisfaction a truly humble teacher can ever enjoy. This is enhanced because it comes from a student, which shows that the student is actually engaging with the text to the point of coming up with readings that vary from the conventional. For there are always traditional and well-worn ways to interpret and comment about a text which the teacher is familiar with, so a truly unique and radical theory must necessarily be apart from the norm.

We have discovered the surest way of combating egotism in teachers, namely the learner’s spirit. As long as a teacher holds the attitude that they are thoroughly versed and entirely cogent concerning a text, their pedagogical manner will be condescending and elitist. If, however, they approach the text and the teaching with a desire to see something new, to hear a different take on it, with genuine interest in learning from their students as much as possible, they will avoid the pitfall of pride and will be truly open to an idea that they never considered. By a happy accident, they will also find that their own teaching of texts will improve overall, even if no revelatory theories are posited. The students can tell when the teacher cares about hearing their thoughts and when he’s just waiting to give his final reading. A true attitude of humility will produce more adventurous students and foster a free exchange of interpretations in the classroom far better than contrived or well-meaning strategies like a round-table discussion.

God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble. So do students.