The Teacher who changes a life: But the influence we cannot measure

Many centuries ago, there was a young boy, Satyakama in India. He was a seeker of truth. One day, he went to his mother with an important question. He expressed the desire to leave home in search of a great teacher. Before doing so he wanted to know the family lineage. He said to his mother, ‘I am going to study the Vedas. Tell me the name of my father and my caste.’ His mother was not a married woman. In India the child of a woman who has not been married is considered an outcast. The child is not recognised by society and is not entitled to study the Vedas. So, the poor mother said, ‘My child, I do not know your family name. I was in service and served in different places. I do not know who your father is, but my name is Jabala and your name is Satyakama.’His mother had the ability to create a family lineage fathered by a respectable man and thereby save her son from humiliation. But she chose not to do that. Satyakama began to search for a teacher. Eventually, one day he approached the sage Gautama Haridrumata. The young boy asked to be taken as a student. The sage asked him, ‘What is the name of your father, and what is your caste?’ When sage asked about his lineage, Satyakama could have hid the truth as most would do. However, he said what his mother had said. Gautama appreciated this and accepted Satyakama as his student.  This ancient story contains a message that modern education urgently needed to rediscover. The sage Gautama did something that every great teacher does. Gautama was able to look beyond visible circumstances. Great teachers see the character, ranked and background before achievement, Perhaps, this is where life-changing teaching begins.

Modern education has become extraordinarily sophisticated at measuring things such as exams, attendance, progression, satisfaction and employment of gradates. Universities are also ranked against one other and compared according to the number and quality of publications their faculty have produced. Measuring all these factors inspires accountability and quality within the academic environment. Hence, it is important that we have metrics in order to measure these aspects. The society thinks measuring something means that it is important. When something is not measured, it is unimportant. But serious questions are never asked by anyone in the society. How do we quantify the teacher that made a major positive impact on a quiet student who had quietly concluded that they were not intelligent? Which performance indicator capture the teacher who noticed that an unusually enthusiastic student had suddenly become withdrawn? How do we measure the teacher who pursued a student not to abandon education? What value should we assign to a sentence spoken in a classroom that remains inside someone's mind for the next fifty years?

We must remember that many of the best outcomes of education are not visible. Surprisingly, if you talk to most adults they remember very few equations, definitions, or subjects of various intensive studies. Yet ask them about a teacher who changed their life and memory suddenly becomes remarkably precise. They are, however, quite able to describe in detail a teacher that changed their life. They can even recall a sentence that teacher said. They remember the teacher who stayed behind after class. They remember the teacher who took their question seriously when everyone else laughed. They remember someone saying, “I think you can do this.” They remember the teacher who did not embarrass them when they corrected them. Students also remember the opposite of this. They remember being laughed at, labelled, publicly hoisted next to a peer, or told that they would never be successful. This reveals an uncomfortable truth about education. A teacher does not simply teach a subject. A teacher is involved in shaping this person's confidence.

In the classroom, students sitting quietly is not only leaning different subjects, but they also gather evidence about larger questions such as “Am I intelligent?” Will I be successful? Will what I say even matter? Will I always fail? Their teachers partly answer these questions. Beyond the meaning of book knowledge, ancient Indian philosophy speaks to the notion that education has a deeper significance. The traditional conception of a guru points towards a transition from ignorance to enlightenment. The Vedas instruct us to get out of the existence of darkness and go forward on the path of light. The Upanishadic statement tamaso mā jyotir gamay (leading from darkness to light) speaks to the same idea and is relevant even today. Darkness, however, is not simply mean the absence of knowledge.

A person can possess extraordinary knowledge and still lack wisdom. One can be exceptionally qualified and still be dishonest. A person may be exceptionally brilliant and still irresponsible. This person may be very accomplished in his profession and still lack compassion. Knowledge gives human beings power, character influences how that power is exercised. This leads to the more important question that is the foundation of educational policy: not just “What do our students know?” but “What kind of human beings do our educational systems create?” Each classroom, whether it is in Dhaka, Delhi, London, Lagos or New York, possesses two curricula, one visible and the other less visible. The less visible curriculum is regularly encountered by the students. Students learn whether mistakes are permanent or whether another opportunity to succeed is given. They learn if the best student in class deserves more respect than the worst student. They learn whether disagreement can occur without hostility. They learn whether kindness is compatible with excellence.

Even if a teacher talks about honesty, students watch to see what happens to them when honesty becomes inconvenient. Even if a teacher talks about respect, students notice what happens to the lowest student in class. Even if a teacher talks about fairness, students see favouritism. The spoken curriculum stays for one lesson. But the lived part of the curriculum is for life. The Bhagavad Gita has other thought-provoking examples of teaching. On the battlefield of Kurukshetra, Arjuna becomes immobile because he is confused about what is right. Krishna could tell him to stop being confused, but he chooses to have a conversation instead. Krishna asks Arjuna, explains, challenges, and goes down different paths of thinking with him. He does all this while still placing the responsibility for wise judgement on Arjuna. This example describes the way of educating people. An instructor provides answers. A good teacher develops understanding. A great teacher helps the student answer for himself and teaches him to think and to question. This is why it is important not to turn educational measurements into identities.

A quiet student can become an extraordinary leader. An average student can have superior imagination or emotional intelligence. The difficult student can be fighting a challenge that no teacher can see. A grade gives the performance of a student, but this should not be an identity. A teacher can quickly say, “You are not a creative person.” The teacher can easily forget this, but the student can remember for a long time. Having one single word “yet” denotes that the future is not defined. This does not mean that teachers should avoid criticisms. Education that does not require challenges is not education. Teachers must provide uncomfortable truths to students about the areas that need improvement like performance, discipline, attitude and effort. One teacher may teach thousands of students during a career. Those students become parents, doctors, entrepreneurs, engineers, nurses, managers, artists, public servants and teachers themselves. Each influences countless others. Something of the original teacher can therefore travel through people the teacher will never meet. Perhaps this is why teaching requires a particular kind of faith: faith that not every meaningful result appears immediately.

Somewhere today, a teacher will enter a classroom, deliver a lesson, speak a few words to a student and go home thinking it was an ordinary day. For one student, it may not be ordinary at all. The teacher may forget the conversation. The student may carry it for the rest of life. That is the invisible influence of a teacher. Perhaps the most important educational outcome we have never learned to measure.