Swimming just below the surface...

As a teacher in my former life, I often contemplated what effect I had over my students.   Would they retain any of the vital wisdom I passed on?  Would they be changed into more conscious, responsible citizens?   

Recently I read Seven Thousand Ways to Listen by Mark Nepo.  (I highly recommend it!)  He speaks of a tradition of the Inuit people. 

The elders teach their sons that, if you watch closely enough, you’ll see the biggest [salmon] barely break surface, leaving an almost imperceptible wake.  When the big fish break surface in this way, the Inuit say they are making eyebrows in the water.  The slight break of surface is known as the wake of an unseen teacher.  Nepo goes on to say that this is a powerful metaphor for how we fish for what matters in our lives.  We are always looking for the teachers that swim just below the surface…

Reading those words, I immediately thought of a former student.  He took my course only because it was required.  He had little interest and spent his time chatting with friends.  One day he grabbed his backpack just minutes into class time.  I asked him where he was going and he muttered the discussion had no relevance to the course.  I followed him into the hall and told him he could not return until he saw me in my office.

Later that afternoon, we met.   I started out with:  What seems to be the problem?  When you’re in class, you talk to your friends; and today you walk out.  What's the deal? 

He began by telling me he didn’t like the way I taught.  I asked him, what don’t you like?  He began with a diatribe of reasons.  I soon realized that the more he talked the less defensive he became.  And, I admit, I relaxed as well.

When he finished, I told him that he didn’t need to like my teaching methods, and he certainly didn’t need to like me, but he did need to respect the rules of the class.  At that point, a rather cockeyed grin appeared on his face as he said, “Really, your teaching is OK.”  From there we chatted about other things—his major and  career goals. 

He returned to class with a different attitude.  Towards the end of the quarter, I needed help with a moving project.  He was the first to volunteer.   I saw him once after he graduated.  He smiled and thanked me, followed by a hug.

I think this might be an example of swimming beneath the surface.  I wasn’t teaching this young man anything in my office—I listened.  Perhaps that’s when learning is accomplished by both speaker and listener. 

To listen is to continually give up all expectation and to give our attention,

 completely and freshly, to what is before us,

not really knowing what we will hear or what that will mean. 

                               --- Mark Nepo