Whiling away my winter afternoon in the sun, an idle observation led to an interesting discussion. It is widely believed and ever so greatly assumed that “the purest and the most successful teacher is the one who is able to impart all his knowledge to his disciples without any reservations and prejudices”.
But then, the scene of the afternoon and the subsequent discussion compelled me to review this belief in a new light.
A cat is believed to be the guru of the feline family and the other members have, as a consequence, learnt their traits from it. But the one little lesson that the cat has, as unanimously agreed, conveniently decided to omit from the curriculum is the art of climbing trees. This is in conformity with the fact that “if indeed the cat would have been so generous as to teach it to it’s other kin, it would have probably meant threatening its own existence”.
So we come to the question. Should a teacher hold back? Or should she, as required, impart all her knowledge to her disciples hoping that it will all be absorbed in good faith? A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, but what about an eclectic, compendium one? Can it be assumed to ascertain continued reverence and respect for the teacher and an all harmonic mutual coexistence? Or should it only be considered as an eventuality in itself?
This dilemma, assumingly faced by every teacher imparting lessons in life and living is what maintains the dangerous balance which sometimes tips to the wrong side. For after all, we wouldn’t have had a Harry Potter without a Professor Slughorn!
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