The art of making oneself progressively unnecessary….*

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I was recently reading about Harry Potter and I came upon an opinion expressed in an essay about the quality of teaching at Hogwarts — according to the writer the Hogwarts teachers are bad because they are whimsical, erratic, and teach more by personal example; paradoxically, this also makes them good teachers because the students then become self-reliant in seeking to supply the gaps the teachers cannot plug. The self-reliance forced on the students enables them to have educational adventures that would otherwise not have been necessary. The writer goes on to say that Harry and his friends develop as individuals because they are compelled to disobey rules, which need not have happened if they had competent teachers.

I take exception to this view because while this observation may hold true in the context of teachers like Lockhart, Trelawney and Umbridge, these teachers are exceptions to the framework of teaching at Hogwarts, which is defined by teachers like McGonagall, Snape and Dumbledore.

As a teacher I also object to this view on another level. Does the importance of education only consist in teaching us the value of disobedience? How will such a society be of any benefit or safety to anyone? Why call such an existence a social life even? One may just as well live in a jungle and hope to survive. [And here I just want to clarify that my definition of teachers includes everyone who teaches us absolutely anything about life — family, friends, neighbours, relatives, colleagues, everyone in fact — without reference to their age, time, place, species (animals have a lot to teach us) or form (mass and social media, for instance).]

Of course, it may be argued that learning disobedience to authority is not necessarily bad. Social ills may get indefinitely perpetuated if the status quo is never challenged. Also, nothing new will ever be learnt if students do not have a rebellious streak. A teacher, then, should be able to provide just the right mix of hand-holding and encouragement for individual study. The results of such ‘educational adventures’ may certainly be surprising, transforming both teacher and student. (Look what happened to the Serpent and Eve.)

Yet, my traditional outlook and daily experience of teaching find it difficult to accept teachers as redundant to the act of learning. I am a professional who gets paid to lecture to students about topics set down in a fixed curriculum. The study of English language and literatures in English necessitates I guide students in the intricacies of the texts prescribed for study, and I should be remiss in my duty if I were not to ‘teach’ them what I get paid to do. This is the obvious part of my teaching duties. But what about the teaching that happens on a less obvious level? Teachers are also expected to exemplify a sense of commitment, responsibility, dedication to knowledge, and dignity commensurate with age and position. Another part of me (the part that annoyingly contradicts me at every possible opportunity) posits that teachers should be facilitators on the journey of knowledge rather than anxiously hovering, smothering presences in students’ lives. Accepting this implies taking a step back and letting students explore their own ideas, even if confused, half-baked, or downright wrong. My job, then, is to provide a metaphorical safety-net to catch them if they fall. I do not wish to sound condescending here, because in contact with the young, fresh perspectives of students, I have had my ideas expanded, and changed, too. So, being a teacher is a tall order indeed. (Like Mr. Darcy, I know of only half a dozen ‘accomplished’ teachers.)

Looking back, I find that my favourite teachers were the ones who taught me to think. They were the ones who let me challenge them, encouraged me to try my new-found confidence against their solid good sense and knowledge, and who occasionally even let me fall to teach me about Icarus. They were the ones who combined education with entertainment, for surely fables are more effective than droning sermons. In trying to put into practice what they taught me, I learnt that in the classroom environment, a teacher functions also as a performer. Factors such as personal state of mind, problems with money, relationships or colleagues, even a preference or otherwise for the syllabus prescribed, are not in any way expected to intervene in the ‘performance' of teaching — the show must go on.

So where is all this leading? Well, dear reader, do not despair, for there is a method to my madness. At least, I like to think so. I began by citing the opinion about Hogwarts teachers and teaching and what irked me about it — I cannot accept the idea that only a bad teacher produces a good student. A whimsical, intellectually lazy and sloppy teacher will most probably only replicate these undesirable traits in students; there will certainly be no ‘educational adventures’ because students will not know the sheer fun to be had in them. Rather than learning about what is of lasting value, students will fall prey to whatever is in vogue. Mediocrity will become laudable, because it will be easy to achieve.

As my Bitter Half never tires of reminding me, a good teacher is one who helps the academically challenged students to enhance their abilities and fulfil their potential. The truly gifted students do not rely solely on teachers; like Snape, Voldemort, Dumbledore, and Grindelwald, they are capable of enhancing their knowledge through their own educational adventures. These students do so, not for lack of good teachers, but because of good teachers who set them on the journey of knowledge.

So, in conclusion, I still feel teachers and teaching are important. (Else, I my occupation’s gone.…)

* ‘A teacher is one who makes himself progressively unnecessary.’ – Thomas Carruthers