Teaching, Power, and Tragedy

Sometimes being a teacher feels like an impotent and silly profession -- especially being a teacher who specializes in theory and philosophy. Sometimes it seems like all talk and no action. That is, it sometimes feels like a meaningless job with nothing really to grab onto and no real accomplishment to admire after a long day’s work (students rapidly forget most of what they learn in class, and no one reads your publications). Recently, however, I’ve been working with a former student from Illinois who is applying to graduate school in my field. Indeed, she is applying to graduate school, it seems, because I once suggested it to her. It wasn’t much, really. She was a great student and I said, almost in passing, that she should go on to study philosophy of education. She perked right up at this suggestion, and before long she was investigating schools and asking for letters of recommendation. It was not something she had considered before I suggested it to her, she said. So there you have it: one little comment from me, her teacher, will probably end up changing her life completely. Hopefully it will change it for the better, but I guess I really can’t be sure of that. She might dedicate years of her life to something she will eventually learn to hate. Maybe it will even ruin her life (it wouldn’t be the first time that graduate school has ruined somebody’s life, that’s for sure). It is a burden to wield such influence and to point people in directions where there is no guarantee of happiness. Whatever else it is, I’ve learned that teaching is far from impotent. It is loaded with tragic responsibility.

Bryan