Teaching is the most beautiful vocation in all the world. Those in other trades deal with things: the architect deals with stone and steel; the storekeeper deals with food, or cloth, or flowers; the druggist deals with medicine for the body. But the teacher deals with the human soul.

Teaching is communication. It is a bridge between soul and soul. And for teaching to be effective, that bridge must be love. If the teacher loves the students, then the students will learn, and grow. And then teaching will be a  joy for both of them – teacher and student.

Education is the complete and harmonious development of all the physical, mental and moral faculties of man. That definition is terribly important! Education is growth. The student grows, in mind, in heart, in the depths of his soul, in his whole being. 

The little girl comes to school like a rosebud.  What happens in school is like sunshine, water, air. She grows, and blossoms, and blooms into a beautiful young woman – beautiful inside and out. 
The little boy comes to school like a tiny, delicate plant. In school he grows into a strong and sturdy tree. The purpose of a girls' school is to make a lady out of a child. The purpose of a boys' school is to make a man out of a boy.

The important thing in a classroom is not the mark! It is the child! How much does the child learn? How much does the child grow? Every teacher knows that the students who get the most out of a school are not always the students who get the marks. They are the ones who learn to recognize truth. . . . .to appreciate beauty. . . . .to face reality. . . . .to enjoy living. . . .to love people.

The good teacher sees the hidden talents in every child, and tries to develop all those beautiful qualities. The coach encourages the young athlete, convincing him that he can do it, cheering him on, correcting him whenever he does it wrong, and praising him whenever he does it right. He is positive, always.

The drama director sees talent in the student that nobody else sees. When everyone else gives up, he continues patiently, sure that the talent is there, giving the child confidence. The choir director works patiently through the long hours, training the child to hear the difference between a sharp and a flat.

And it ends, always, with joy. The athlete goes to every game with a will. He loves the game, with a love that he learned from the coach. He loves the game even when he does not win, thinking: "If I should win let it be by the code. With my head and my honor held high. But if I should lose let me stand by the road. And cheer as the winner goes by!"

The actor, or the actress, loves every show, whether they are the star or just a small supporting role. The singer loves to sing, whether it is a solo or a small part in the chorus.
 

And the student loves to learn. The exploration of truth becomes a beautiful adventure. Leaving the school, the students know that they can learn from everything: from the sunrise, from the forest, from the traffic in the street, from a child.

When I was seven years old, in Grade Two, the nun who was our class teacher told us beautiful stories about missionaries in China, in Africa. I was so touched that I began saying: "I will be a missionary!" And when I was 22 years old, I was a missionary!

In high school, in Saint Peter's Prep in Jersey City, I met a young Jesuit Scholastic named Ernest P. Hartnett. He was in charge of the school magazine, and he accepted the first story that I submitted. Talking to me, when I was only a freshman, he sounded like he and I were running the magazine. From then on, I wrote stories with a will.

He was also the Moderator of Debating. When we had public debates, against another school, he never said anything negative about the speeches we prepared. But he would point out what was very strong, and suggest that we develop that a little more. And, consequently, leave out what was weak. In three years of public debating, we never lost a debate. It was not because we were the world's best speakers. It was because Ernie Harnett was a real teacher.

He was also the Director of Dramatics. One night when we were leaving the auditorium after rehearsal, he said to me: "Jim, what time is your train?" I was touched that he even knew that I came from another city. I looked at the train schedule. No train for another hour. He said: "Ah, you don't want to wait in that cold station for an hour!" And he brought me to the faculty house and served me cocoa and cookies.

If I became a Jesuit, it was largely due to Ernie Harnett. He taught not only with his words, he taught with his heart. I learned from everything he taught us. But I learned most of all from what he was!. . . . . .He was a teacher.

When I began to teach, myself, I was scared stiff. I was assigned to teach Sophomore A.B. in the old Ateneo on Padre Faura Street, in June of 1941. I went to Father Mulry for advice. He was one of the finest teachers the Ateneo ever had. The class that I was teaching in Sophomore, he had taught as Freshmen.

He said: "They are bright. They are very bright. But they all have ants in their pants. They can not sit still. You have to have something doing all the time. In fact, you have to shoot yourself out of a cannon. Remember that. . . . . .Never a dull moment!". . . . . .As I was leaving his room he called out to me, as an afterthought: "Get in there and learn as much as you can from them!"

That was the best advice I ever had. I went in there and tried to learn as much as I could from them. It was Old Joe Mulry's secret for good teaching – and it worked! If you are going to touch the mind and heart of a boy, you must find out what that mind and heart is like! You learn that by listening. When a priest is ordained, the Bishop anoints his hands. When a young college graduate begins to teach, I think they should anoint his ears.

To be a good teacher, you don't have to pass everybody. You only have to be fair and just. One lady teacher failed a boy in her class. Before the final marks were published, she called the boy, and explained why it was impossible to pass him. She showed him his record. "These were your absences. . . . .These were your marks for homework. . . . .These were your marks for the weekly tests. . . . .And this was your mark for the final exam. I'm sorry! But you will have to repeat the year".

The boy was so impressed by her personal concern for him that he repeated the year gladly, without protest. And, the second time through, he was the brightest student in her class!

The model for every teacher, of course, is Christ Our Lord. The name that everyone called him was: "Rabboni! – which means: "Teacher". The Gospel says again and again: "He sat on the hillside and taught the crowds!" That is why he was conceived in the womb of the Virgin Mary, and born in a stable – to teach us the way to live, the way to eternal life, the way to peace of soul, the way to happiness.

What was his own concept of himself, as a teacher? He was a shepherd, looking for the lost lamb, finding the lamb, and carrying it home on his shoulders. . . . . He was the father of the prodigal son, waiting for the boy who had gone astray, and running to meet him when he saw him coming home.

He was the owner of the vineyard, finding the unemployed laborers at the eleventh hour, sending them into his vineyard, and paying them a full day's wage. . . . . he was the friend of the lepers. . . . . he was the true, lasting friend of the apostles who abandoned him to the Romans. . . . .he was all heart, all love.

And that is what he taught: "Little children, love one another as I have loved you."  Teaching is a beautiful profession. It was worthy even of God.

By James B. Reuter