Guru

The talk at the Ramakrishna Ashram last night was all about devotion to one’s guru. The monk, Swami Karunakaranandaji Maharaj, told a number of stories about the commitment of students to their teachers; the one I recall best had something to do with Krishna bringing the dead child of his guru back to life because he had promised his master he would find the man’s lost son.

I couldn’t help but compare such an attitude to that of most students for their teachers at, for instance, my school. Whereas in the Indian tradition, the student serves his guru, in our world, the teacher is generally seen as providing a service to the student. College students, (somewhat reasonably, I think), have something of a consumerist mentality about their education: they’re paying for it, and it’s up to their instructors to provide value on the dollar.

Whereas this does turn education into a kind of market transaction, I don’t think it’s so awful, really. As a teacher, I feel a powerful responsibility to do right by my students, to provide them with experiences that are meaningful and relevant to their own lives. This doesn’t mean, of course, that it has to be all fun and games, (although in general, I think students learn best when they’re enjoying themselves), and it’s often the case that the students need to have their minds opened to new conceptions of meaning and relevance, but when it comes to devotion, I would have to say that I’m more devoted to the learners than they are to me.

But perhaps this isn’t so far from the Indian ideal, after all. Because, like most— if not all—of my colleagues, I will happily admit that the most profound pedagogical experiences I have are when I have the opportunity to learn from those I am officially teaching.

So, in essence, my students ARE my guru, and thus it’s perfectly in keeping with the tradition that Swami Karunakaranandaji Maharaj was talking about, and entirely consistent with it that in the classroom, I'm the real devotee.