The Art of Assisting Discovery

Many argue against the stereotype that a teacher is simply someone who gives lectures in a classroom setting, because it can actually take the form of many things. These include, but are not mutually exclusive to, a person, an object, or an experience. But though there is a grain of truth pointing out that a teacher is not just one who stands in front of students and talks to them for a living, their hands dusted with chalk and their mouths tasting of too many apples, it would be degrading to these trained professionals to compare their worth to trees, clouds, lakes, or even rocks. After all, doesn’t it mean that anything can don the title of ‘teacher,’ since we can learn from pretty much everything? But of course, we must not lower this profession, because in essence, who is truly a teacher is someone who offers himself to others as a source of understanding, who has chosen that path and intends to stay on it (Gilbert, n.d.), who is an apprentice himself of something bigger than any austere principal or prestigious academy, who is a master of simplification but an enemy of simplicity, who seeks what is and rejects falseness and dishonesty. And among them are the exceptional ones, who are born to excel at what they do. They are not just mediocre, good, or even superior. For a great teacher does not merely help with what is needed to be done, but devotes himself to a fuller grasp of the knowledge and makes it his goal to enable the student to get along without him.

But first, there is the mediocre—in place of saying ‘downright terrible’—teacher who is content with ‘telling’ and does not add much else aside from that. For him, this is synonymous to teaching itself, and hazards a guess that the students already know enough about the topic for him to refrain from going on. And worse, he may not just care if the students actually know of it or not. He is overflowing with facts: names, dates, terms and events, but does not strive to expand them. He assumes that he is only there to speak and to sermon, and that as long as he is getting paid it’s fine with him. He imparts information, but doesn’t concern himself with teaching real, practical knowledge. If he were a test, one would have to fill in all the blanks he left empty.

Then, there is the good—another word for ‘just fine’—teacher, who seems to be intent on explaining things. Meanings, origins, theories, concepts, he discusses them all, but only enough to describe them to a boundary. Though he is loaded with examples, he is restricted to just that, and nothing more. He may have a list of similar objects or circumstances, but that is the extent of it, and he doesn’t bother to elaborate them, to encourage comprehension or even attempt to make them somewhat relatable. After his illustrations, he moves on, all too much like the ‘enumeration’ portion.

Now, the superior teacher, on the other hand, is exceedingly fond of demonstrating. He tells, he explains, and afterwards, he delves deeper into the subject in order to connect it to reality. He desires for students to seize its core ideas and understand it, and never runs out of methods to show how it may be applicable to everyday life. He educates about the outcomes of processes, and for problems, possible things that may be done about them. However, despite all this, he still has one failing, because it’s too much like spoon feeding. He is equipped with learning materials, but even that may not be enough to keep students interested if they themselves aren’t assured of its permanent relevance. With all that he can do and show, he still doesn’t have what it takes to push students to discover these things for themselves. Like an essay, he can be written with excellence, but set aside when another challenge comes along.

This is what sets apart the great teacher from all the rest. Where others can teach, his way is so splendid that he beckons students to really learn something. He doesn’t just suggest solutions, but asks provoking questions. Some leave no mystery left unsolved, but he allows his students to answer some things on their own. He is attuned to each and everyone’s strengths and weaknesses and never assigns them tasks they didn’t think they could handle. He is aware of their limitations but at the same time, knows just how far they can go if they tried and exerted their best effort. He is a mentor, a guardian, and his expertise doesn’t necessarily end with school-related issues, but life experiences. But above all, he inspires students, so that his teachings don’t enter one ear and flit out the other like deranged and mindless butterflies. Whatever he teaches are so important and worthwhile enough that his students carry it with them, even as they grow up, graduate, and leave his care. These lessons can be of great help in daily living or unexpected yet crucial situations. Therefore, they are imprinted on hearts, and in turn get passed from generation to generation. He is a role model, summoning his students to be teachers as well—though they don’t essentially have to be employed as such. He is the practical exam some ingenious mind invented, grading and assessing students in accordance with their performance in a natural and real paradigm.

A great teacher knows and smiles and at the thought of the fruit of his teaching not manifesting in a day’s work, or even twenty years, remaining invisible for as long as they can, but it’s all right, because it is a gift he is certain would not be easily spent or destroyed. There is a quote that goes, “A teacher affects eternity; he can never tell where his influence stops,” (Adams, n.d.) but it neglects to mention that it takes a great teacher to do that.

So it has been made evident that teaching isn’t just about knowledge, or even its more fruitful counterpart, wisdom. For what use are these if they are not shared to better the world? And what cause would teachers be fighting for if, perhaps, they are taught, but are quickly forgotten, tucked away into the most hidden compartments of memory as easily and quickly as they came? Because true learning is attained, and a teacher has only really taught, if and only if the lesson doesn’t end with them. Its greatness and strength can have the ability to withstand trials, age, time, or even death.

Everyone should have known, or needs to know, at least one great teacher in their life. Like iron to flint, to strike sparks. Like a well to an empty jar, to supply water. Like a lens to light, and vice versa. To the fallow mind, a planter; and to the cluttered one, a weeder. Like a wake-up call, a potter, a guide, a listener, and mostly importantly, a friend (Grow, 1998 ). To have someone to inspire them, someone whose lessons deserve to use up their lives, and then some.