johnpalmer

Teaching of any sort is an interesting undertaking. In it, the teacher
hopes to become unnecessary... but perhaps, at the same time, might also
hope to always be necessary, in one form or another.

Perhaps in memory.
Perhaps in inspiration.
Perhaps, once in a while, in reality, as old students come back to try to
learn more.

I don't know if the last truly is the dream of great teachers, but I can
imagine it, really. I think the hope would be that the teacher is always
growing, so that the teacher can always be a bit ahead of the students. If
the students surpass the teacher in all ways, the teacher might well have
stagnated. If nothing else, one hopes that there's some additional wisdom
that comes with age, even if the field the teacher taught was mastered a
long time ago.

If nothing else, I think a good teacher will often have
something for the old student... and that something is the knowledge of that
student, the knowledge that only a teacher might see. Knowing what the
student enjoys, and knowing what truly fueled the student's drive.

Teaching has always been something that's been... well, I don't know.
"Kryptonite", maybe?

I tried to teach math when I was a grad student. I sucked at it. Oh, I
wasn't the worst on the planet, I'm sure... but I wasn't good.
Part of it was untreated ADHD. Part of it was that I was playing a role,
and doing a job. But, part of it was that I didn't really know how to
communicate with a group of people.

Along the way, though, I came up with a definition of teaching that I think
might be a good one, one that cuts to the heart of teaching.
"Teaching", I opined, "is the art of solving a problem with another person's
brain".

If I were trying to teach art, I might make a student capture something in
oil paints, then water colors, then charcoal. Stretch your talents, stop
thinking only one way, find yet *ANOTHER* layer of meaning. But the best
teacher might know the proper medium to solve the problem, and propel the
student to a better understanding of his or her own talent.

A great teacher can see what needs to be solved, and start with the student,
and work the student through it.
And the student actually does the work...and sees, and feels the rightness
of it.

Of course, to capture the really great teachers, we need to make the problem
much more than the actual task set before the student. Perhaps having an
art student use oils, then watercolors, then charcoal is not to teach
different mediums, but to teach the importance of different mediums, or the
importance of not limiting one's self... or maybe even the importance of
discipline in learning about art, by doing, and redoing something one can
already do.

In this sense, I think great teachers are like great writers... I'm not sure
they always know what, precisely, they're doing. I think they might better
know when what they're doing is the right thing to do (or "a" right thing to
do, at least).

I've been thinking about teaching a bit recently, due in part to some
long-ish discussions in some newsgroups. In one such newsgroup, there's a
bit of a fight. Not a huge one; I'm not indulging in my normal penchant for
humorous understatement.

It struck me how there's often very few attempts at teaching in these
things. There's sometimes argument, which might be defined as "trying to
solve a problem for someone else using your own mind", and sometimes
presentation (which could be said to be "trying to solve a problem for
yourself using your own mind"), neither of which are bad.

But a person's being accused of dishonesty about his motives, or
incompetence in his attempt to carry out his motives, and I realized that
there's a kind of irony that the presenters and arguers seem to want to be
teachers.

If he wanted to do what he said he wanted to do, sure, he probably flubbed
up. But if they want to do what they say they want to do, they're probably
flubbing up in exactly the same manner.

I think - and please understand that this is the opinion of a fallible human
- that both were starting too far from the mindset of the target.
This is, ironically, exactly why I was such a bad math teacher. I have a
very hard time finding the mind of a math student, except when I'm working
one-on-one.

Ironically enough, I think I wanted to teach either or both sides... and I
think I'm probably still far from both mindsets. Kinda funny, us all
screwing up the same way over different issues.

Not too long ago, a person emailed me, more or less from out of the blue,
restarting an old argument, claiming that I spend a fair amount of time
making attacks, and trying to increase flamage, all the while piously
pretending to be 'the good guy'.

I certainly can't deny that I've made more than enough unprovoked attacks in
alt.callahans, and other newsgroups. Of course, "enough" unprovoked attacks
is "none", so I suppose I'm not admitting to much.

But I do know that when I'm trying to be, as one poster put it, "the voice
of reason", I am trying to teach. Not argue, present, or
fight... when I'm trying to explain things, I'm honest-to-goodness trying to
teach.

I kind of thought that was the proper statement of the idea behind Christian
theology's idea of forgiveness. If you're really trying to do you're best;
if you're honestly seeking what's good and just and right, well, you're
going to mess up, and sometimes do even the exact opposite of what you want.
What matters is that, if you really do want what's right, you'll also be
doing your best to notice it, and put it right when you can.

It's not that the road to hell is paved with any good intentions... it's
paved with unexamined good intentions, sometimes before, and sometimes
after, they are acted upon. That's my feeling, at least.

So, I reckon I'll think some more about all this, and then examine whether
I'm trying to teach or not, and how well I'm doing. Then lay down some more
good intentions, hoping I've examined them enough, and hoping I'm pointing
them in the right direction.