going to school

i held a one day workshop in a design school yesterday. the subject being one of continuing interest to me - perception of color and how it communicates. i stepped into a classroom after almost a year.
an unruly class of about 20 sat around the benches sizing me up in the quick, discerning way that only young people can.
after teaching for four years, i like to think that one of my favorite places is the classroom. i like the conversations that take place the most... the way an idea travels around the class and grows and slowly takes form.
i like to watch young faces grapple with a thought, chew it, take in the zest in it, or even challenge it, not liking the flavors at all.
when one teaches, one speaks a lot, and i am not someone who is very fond of hearing my own voice. i prefer to listen.
and this has been my greatest lessons of all. so much of teaching is listening, so much of living is listening.
in our heated debates and discussions with some of my ex-colleagues in the design school where i taught earlier, we have always wondered what a teacher should be like? especially as more and more younger people are joining the teaching fraternity and the difference of age between the students and the faculty is not all that large.
also when information is so extensively and easily available by the flick of a few keys, what is then the emerging role of a teacher?
i really, fervently believe that a good teacher is merely someone who can guide and give direction, objectively without prejudice. no longer can we be inexhaustible crucibles of knowledge, who, sitting on a higher throne, distribute it to the 'less enlightened', faithful lot of believers.
i think most of us could do with a large shot of humility. and the sooner we begin to accept that we can also learn from someone who is a decade (if not more) younger than us, the better teachers, parents, siblings or human beings we could be.
teaching... i have never quite liked the word, it is very uni-directional and has a 'holier than thou' ring to it, it brings pictures of shuttered classrooms and unapprochable men and women lurking at the front of the class, brandishing a cane or ruler, in my head. i dont want to call it 'sharing', that sounds too pretentious... so let me call it 'mentoring', until i find another word. a mentor is a trusted advisor, so i think i can go with that for now.
being a mentor is exhausting, probably because of the gargantuan sense of responsibility that it brings with it, and giving selflessly can be rather fatiguing.
people are fragile, and whether they are young or old, so many times one can do lasting damage to another human being in the garb of doing what is right or knowing what is best.
the more we are convinced that we know what is best for another, the more damage we can cause.
the truth is we are all individuals in our own seperate worlds, experiencing every moment that is unique only to us, yet we are connected to each other by the common warp and weft of living.

there was this girl in class yesterday, who would interject discussions with the strangest of questions, comments or absurd repetitions of what was being said.
i noticed that the other students were a little wary of her, but did not attempt to counter or add to anything she was saying. her face looked old and marked, and she had dark circles under her eyes.
i wondered silently about her. i found out later that she had lost her father in an accident four years back, suffered a terrible nervous breakdown, from which she has not recovered yet, there was also a hint that she was subject to sexual abuse. she is 27 years old, the oldest in the class of 20 year olds...
the faculty members empathise with her, but are not quite sure how to deal with her. it seems like they let her be, they watch out for her, are more considerate and perhaps less harsh than they would otherwise be with an average or below average student. i would perhaps do the same. i have no idea what the right thing to do is. is there such a thing in the first place?

i feel more humility with every passing day. i have increasingly begun to feel that what i know can fit into the holes of a button, this one lifetime seems to be too little to learn all that can be. and i dont mean bookish knowledge, i mean about people, about their lives, their hopes, loves, losses, about the lines on their faces... i dont know if this is a good thing or not. but i am not able to have strong, unshakeable opinions any more. ideas about right and wrong have all gone blurry. all i know is there is an entire landscape of unknowns, and it stretches as far as i can see.