When trying to invent the incandescent light bulb, Thomas Edison failed a couple thousand times before eventually arriving at a successful prototype, but when he did, it was a success. I live to see that grand light turn on in someone’s head. After struggling through multiple scenarios, she gets it. Finally, she understands why the limit does not exist and appreciates the time you have invested in her academic well-being. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You see the glimmer through her eyes and the new found pep in her step. As of now, I am yet to encounter a similar feeling: a feeling of pure joy and accomplishment.
I’m not quite sure when it started, maybe sophomore year of high school math. The original teacher went on sabbatical. So a young, nearly fresh out of college, replacement was found to fill her place. He was definitely well educated, but his confidence was lacking and thus it was hard for him to address concerns firmly, causing students to become more anxious than they were prior to voicing their fears. Becca, a fellow student, fearing for her own academic prowess, begged that I switch to the adjoining seat so that she would have someone to answer her questions. I was in unfamiliar territory; someone explicitly wanted to sit next to me. Sure, it wasn’t due to my charm, my wit, or my opinions, but something about me was desirable. As the days went on, I became the “go-to-math-guy.” Having trouble with the homework? Go find David. Had trouble following the teacher’s lecture? Go find David. Need someone to prove that triangle ABC is congruent to triangle BCD? Go find David.
Then came Julia, the future valedictorian. She embodied what it meant to work tirelessly in search of perfection. During classes she would display a sense of clear comprehension and, for the most part, perform as such. One night, however, somewhere around 8:30, I received a call: “David, it’s Julia. Can we go over everything that is going to be on this test tomorrow?”
“Everything? Is there any section that you’re not having trouble with?”
“I just want to make sure I have everything correct.”
“Okay then. How would you like to proceed?”
“Well, I was going to explain everything to you and have you catch my errors. Is that okay? I want to know if I get it before you provide your two-cents.”
“Where would you like to begin?” For fifty minutes straight she recited every combination of information that we had learned leading up to the test. I think I chimed in twice. Actually, the second one doesn’t count; I nit-picked. I became confused. Why did she call me? She obviously knew the subject matter proficiently, to say the least. I told her exactly that: “You really know your stuff; you’ll ace this test without a hitch.” She said thank you, we exchanged pleasantries, and said goodnight.
Before falling asleep I asked myself: Why does this feel so good? I have not acquired more knowledge and an hour of my precious time has been spent. Let’s see. Knowing that Becca has fewer unanswered questions than she had before is rewarding, but there has to be more to it. Maybe it has something to do with relieving Julia’s stress surrounding the test tomorrow. Certainly, seeing their smiles, in a crowd of frowns, after watching them sit through the hour long math exam, will make all the difference. That day, I will look into the mirror and know that my time could not have been spent better.
Then there is a lull in the action. No one seems confused, everyone can focus his or her own energy elsewhere, and now there is no reason to be concerned.
In theory, I should be happy in this situation. People aren’t asking me for help and thus the result is the same: whether or not they have received my aid, they have arrived at an answer. Sadly however, another famous Thomas, Thomas Hobbes, posits that people are self-interested and desire power; I must admit, I have to agree. I developed a desire for people to need me, to want my help, to seek out solutions through me. So, when I sit down beside Becca, I feel a strong sense of pride, power, and maybe even superiority. Is that terrible? Can I honestly claim that synthesizing the information is something that I do for her academic success? I find it quite hard to reconcile. As I sit across the table, with each subsequent word, I sense my ego growing larger. I want Becca to ask me something else; let me show her how vast my knowledge is. I have so much more to share. Bottom line, I helped her and, for that, she is indebted to me; she should be providing some sort of reciprocation other than, “Thanks Davie.”
Luckily, I am not tied to one feeling, but where does that leave my conscience? In the past, I would reconcile this by explicitly telling myself that Julia and Becca are more confident in their new found knowledge so I am allowed to feel a sense of pomposity. Mutual amelioration does exist; it is permissible and possible. In this scenario, there is a way for me to share my knowledge with an audience and in turn they get to make use of it. To put it in more brazen terms, the end justifies the means. At the end of the day, we all walk away better off than we were an hour ago and that is what surprised me. Never in a million year would I have thought that teaching could be a learning experience. I know that sounds exceptionally cheesy, but it helped me understand that there are many different types of learners and some people need to be guided step by step and other need only to be reassured that they’re heading in the right direction. So I guess, in a neat sort of way, I have written my own version of “they all lived happily ever after.”