The Purpose of Teaching

I'm studying to become a teacher, so I tend to think a lot about teaching. Lately I've been pondering on the purpose of public education in a democracy, and the purpose of teaching in general. I want to discuss the latter.

Knowledge is power, right? But why? Because knowledge increases one's ability to make choices (hence defined as agency--one's personal ability to choose for oneself). I see this illustrated in my own life all the time. For example, finding out that there is a concert on Wednesday gives me the ability to then choose if I will go to it or not; but first I need the knowledge of it. The more knowledge you have, the more choices you can make, the more full your life is--for you are actively creating it.

So if the function of teaching is to impart knowledge (or "construct" it, depending on the behavioral theory you subscribe to), then the purpose of teaching is to increase your students' ability to choose. That is the "why" of education. We teach so that students can have the necessary skills and knowledge to actively create their own lives. Hopefully we do so in a way that also imparts values of responsibility, accountability, and character. Hopefully our students use their agency for good. But our purpose is to give them the tools.

I came up with this little theory a few weeks ago, and recently found support for it from the apostles and general authorities of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. In a Power of Teaching lecture at the BYU school of education, President Russell G. Osguthorpe of the General Sunday School Presidency stated the purposes of teaching to be "(1) To increase one’s power to exercise personal agency, and (2) To increase one’s capacity to love." Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles expounded upon the role of agency in teaching and learning in a recent address. The whole talk is wonderful, and has interesting implications for teaching.

For myself, the implications of what I have discovered are simple: I am teaching students, not lessons. The material is important only insomuch as it expands the world of the students. Teaching them how to learn and to take responsibility for their own learning will be one of my primary focuses. I want to inspire and enable my students to be active in deciding their own lives, rather than being acted upon.

Making a Stand

For those of you that don't know, I self-published a book recently. It is a compilation of family traditions that is intended as a resource for families--similar to a baby name book--you browse through it and pick traditions that sound fun to implement in your family.

Anyway, I started this book several years ago, but got discouraged with the project. When my friend told me about the Stand for the Family Symposium, I decided to write a proposal about my book for it. And they accepted it--so I had to finish my book.

It never occurred to me that by participating in the symposium I would be making a stand. I honestly did not know when I applied to the symposium that its main purpose is to promote the preservation of the traditional family with the traditional definition of marriage. My book's appearance in this symposium shows support for that political view. (I personally espouse that political view, so that is ok with me)

I realized that when I read the following message from a friend. I spammed all of my friends, asking them to share their traditions with me so I could finish the book. This was her reply:

Dear Sabrina
While I wish you the best of luck in pursuing your passions and participating fully in this conference, I cannot offer my family traditions to, or support, the Stand for the Family Symposium.
Respectfully,
*name has been omitted

I read that and was struck. At first I had no idea what would cause her to not support the symposium. Then I realized that defining marriage as only between a man and a woman goes against her personal beliefs about government, and that the symposium therefore would oppose her viewpoint. And when I made that connection, I was impressed. She could have ignored my message and not replied. After all, I wasn't even writing to her personally--it was a group message. She could have shared her family traditions with me (or ignored my message) without going to the symposium's website to find out what it was about. But that's not what she did. She did a little research to find out the symposium's position, and then, instead of remaining quiet and passive, she wrote me back. And she did so in the most respectful way possible. In fact, she didn't even say why she could not offer her support to the symposium--I figured that out myself. But she raised her voice and let her lack of support known. She made a stand.

How many times could I have made a similar stand on something I believe in, but chose to say nothing? I am filled with respect and admiration for my friend's activeness and integrity in supporting what she believes. I feel inspired to do the same. When something goes against my personal values, I want to say something, and let my lack of support known. Similarly, I want to show my support to causes and projects and laws whose values I agree with.

The Problem with Shining

We're supposed to let our light shine, right? Interestingly enough, "it is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us." --Marianne Williamson That phrase seems counter intuitive. Everyone wants to be great, so why would it be our light that scares us? In talking with my roommate, I've decided that it's not necessarily our light that we fear--it's other people's reactions to our light.

What happens when we shine? (shining=showing forth our strengths and talents instead of hiding them, and hopefully doing so for altruistic purposes) When we shine, people are made aware of their own darkness, and react in one of two ways:**

1) they withdraw from us. They are made uncomfortable and insecure by our light, and instead of rising up, they retreat from us into the comfortable cushion of undisturbed mediocrity. This is a common reaction. This is what we fear.

2) they will be drawn to us. They are inspired by us and feel liberated to also shine. They are freed from the familiar ties of mediocrity, and reach up toward their potential.

There really isn't a middle ground. When you shine, people will either come or leave. And that is scary. It is scary to go to that point where one of two things will happen, and you can't have both anymore. In fact, because of that fear, we often wallow in indecision and lose both. Risk-taking is essential to success. And that is why our light scares us. Pretty ridiculous if you think about it. Understandable, but ridiculous. What have we got to lose, anyway, right?

After all, we are all children of God, the Being who shines for all to see. If we're growing to become "perfect even as He is perfect," then we ought to lose our fear, and shine.





**I think it is also important to note that others' reactions will be greatly influenced by our own approach to shining. Egotism makes people withdraw. Sincerity and goodwill draw people in. Yet the other determinant in this situation is the character of the other person, and you can't control that. How they react is their choice. You, however, can determine your own intentions and approach to shining.