THE SCHOOLING GAME

The great artist's work evokes emotion, even passion in the observer. It can produce what Joseph Campbell terms, "aesthetic arrest" -- where one is frozen in the presence of such beauty. Similarly, a keen observer in the presence of a great teacher can be moved, even arrested by what they see happening with students. A great teacher's classroom is an exquisite concerto, perfectly tuned and synchronized, where each student is immersed in learning through experiences arranged for by the teacher. The great art and great mystery is that all the instruments can harmonize perfectly even though they are all completely different. Each instrument produces its own unique signature sound, which played alone may not be completely pleasant to the ear, but it nevertheless contributes to the whole sound in such a way that no orchestra would be complete without it.
 
Great teachers conduct this orchestra in a seemingly effortless manner. They know just when to bring a certain instrument forward and when to send it off on background pursuits. They know their material thoroughly because they are constantly probing with thought provoking questions which reveal what learning is missing and what is well established.
 
It may seem counterintuitive, but teachers achieve this level of artistry only when they stop teaching -- stop delivering information, stop directing, stop shaping, and allow children to dance to their own music. They stop teaching and listen to their student's life stories. They stop teaching and call children to self-healing and self-direction by helping them to see that they are responsible for both their learning, and their lives. They stop teaching and allow students to take responsibility for themselves in every way possible. They stop teaching and issue challenges which their students willingly take up. The beauty of it all is almost indiscernible, yet it lives in the child who rids herself of the belief that learning and personal value comes from some source outside of her. The art of teaching is in not teaching -- and it is a rare thing of unparalleled beauty.