AVIJIT PATHAK
Are we as educators preparing a generation of people who are psychologically, inwardly revolutionary? Are we ourselves, as educators, psychologically revolutionary?
Jiddu Krishnamurti
As a teacher, I have always reflected on the meaning of my vocation. Well, I know that as a teacher, I ought to be good in the specialized academic knowledge, be it physics, mathematics, economics, history or literature. Moreover, I am also required to see that my students become academically skilled, pass through all sorts of tests and exams, and achieve ‘success’ in life. And possibly, this is what the larger society, or the academic bureaucracy expects from a teacher. Yet, I have always felt that this sort of perception of the meaning of being a teacher is very narrow, instrumental and technical. There ought to be something more to this vocation than the ritualistic act of completing the ‘official’ syllabus, taking exams, and grading/hierarchizing the students. In fact, this quest for a deeper meaning of the profession of teaching has often led me to engage with Jiddu Krishnamurti’s thoughts and reflections on education. Yes, a wanderer like Krishnamurti continually urged us to decondition our minds, resist all sorts of dogmas and ideologies, walk through a ‘pathless land’, and become extraordinarily mindful and sensitive. Not surprisingly, he continually questioned the prevalent or dominant practice of education, or its inevitable consequences like envy, competitiveness, physical/psychic violence and moral/spiritual dumbness.
In this context, I find the book Teaching the Greatest Profession immensely meaningful. It consists of six discussions that Krishnamurti had in 1984 with the teachers of the two educational institutions he had founded in India—Rishi Valley School and Rajghat School. As I contemplate on these pretty rigorous dialogic conversations, I begin to understand why he repeatedly urged us to understand that ‘teaching is the greatest profession’. No, it is not just about teaching academic subjects; nor is it about developing only the technological world. In a conversation with the teachers of the Rajghat School on November 18, 1984, he put great emphasis on the need to work on ‘the whole inward, subjective, psychological area’. Even though our progress in the technological world is remarkable, we should not forget that ‘subjectively, inwardly we are very primitive’. To quote him:
We are still very violent, still petty-minded, quarrelling about this or that, jealous, full of antagonism, and hatred… And it is the function of the educator to change the whole psyche of the human being.
In other words, a teacher, as Krishnamurti would have argued, is not just a subject expert; she/he ought to work for the creation of a new generation—fearless, compassionate and meditative. Teaching is not just yet another 9 to 5 routinized job. In order to understand the intensity of his conviction, let me quote from his conversation with a teacher at the Rajghat School:
K: So, are you responsible for the future generation of students?
T: No, Sir.
K: Therefore, you are not an educator. It is a job to you, like any other job.
Indeed, if we wish to pursue this ‘greatest profession’, we ought to work on ourselves. For instance, as teachers, many of us have often asked this question: How do we discipline our students? Quite often, we tend to equate discipline with the psychology of fear. Or, for that matter, we sharpen the technologies of surveillance in order to have absolute control over students. However, for Krishnamurti, there is no authentic discipline without freedom, or without love. In a conversation with the teachers of the Rishi Valley School on December 11, 1984, he put great emphasis on the relationship between the teacher and the student. A relationship based on love and genuine concern alone can persuade young minds, and generate the spirit of inner discipline. After all, ‘love means protection, love means watching, love means you are not separate from them’. Look at the way Krishnamurti narrated the dynamics of love, care and inner discipline through an example of a hypothetical conversation with young students:
I say, ‘Look, for the convenience of everybody, and also because of your care for everybody, you must go to bed at 10 o’clock, or whatever. Not keep the cooks, the people waiting; you must turn up at 9 o’clock because you care. You cannot keep the teacher waiting for you to turn up. You have to care for the teacher. You have to be there at 9 o’clock or at whatever time the class begins. So the whole thing is a movement of consideration for others, the whole way of living.
Yes, discipline emanates from the ethic of care, empathy and love. And a teacher ought to play a key role in cultivating this sense of inner discipline among young learners. A teacher is not an army General with sticks and guns. She/he, as Krishnamurti wanted us to realize, ought to carry the lamp of love and truth. And this alone can enable him/her to establish a genuine communion with young students.
We live in a fragmented, divided and violent world. Our ‘conditioning’—a product of societal customs, memories and thoughts— often transforms us into ‘Hindus’, ‘Muslims’, ‘Christians’, ‘Indians’ or ‘Pakistanis’. This limits our horizons, and causes conflict and division. Well, it can be said that this sort of ‘conditioning’ gives us some kind of ‘security’. However, in a conversation with the teachers of the Rishi Valley School on December 15, 1984, Krishnamurti questioned this sort of illusory security. To quote him:
There is enormous security in the illusion of a nation, in the illusion of gods, in the illusion of knowledge, in the illusion of somebody, an external agency trying to help you. These are all various forms of illusions.
In fact, in genuine security, as he emphasized, ‘ there is no conflict—inwardly, psychologically.’ And this emanates from love and compassion. Can education lead to this sort of awakened intelligence, and help us to free ourselves from all sorts of conditioning and divisive/violent thoughts? Time and again Krishnamurti urged the teachers to reflect on this question.
Not everything is fine with the teaching profession. Yes, coaching centre strategists are replacing good pedagogues and teachers; education is becoming utterly instrumental and market-driven; and young students have been reduced into reckless ‘exam warriors’ running like mad horses in a neurotic rat race.
In these dark times, as I read this illuminating book and experience the vibrations of these conversations, I feel that we should not give up. We ought to try our best to restore the beauty of what Krishnamurti regarded as the ‘greatest profession’.
Professor Avijit Pathak taught sociology at Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi for more than three decades. He has written extensively on education, critical pedagogy, modernity and social theory.