CHAPTER 5
THE SCHOOL
J
Krishnamurti
THE right kind of education is concerned with individual freedom, which
alone can bring true cooperation with the whole, with the many; but this
freedom is not achieved through the pursuit of one's own aggrandizement
and success. Freedom comes with self-knowledge, when the mind goes above
and beyond the hindrances it has created for itself through craving its
own security.
It is the function of education to help each individual to discover
all these psychological hindrances, and not merely impose upon him new
patterns of conduct, new modes of thought. Such impositions will never
awaken intelligence, creative understanding, but will only further
condition the individual. Surely, this is what is happening throughout the
world, and that is why our problems continue and multiply.
It is only when we begin to understand the deep significance of human
life that there can be true education; but to understand, the mind must
intelligently free itself from the desire for reward which breeds fear and
conformity. If we regard our children as personal property, if to us they
are the continuance of our petty selves and the fulfilment of our
ambitions, then we shall build an environment, a social structure in which
there is no love, but only the pursuit of self-centred advantages.
A school which is successful in the worldly sense is more often than
not a failure as an educational centre. A large and flourishing
institution in which hundreds of children are educated together, with all
its accompanying show and success, can turn out bank clerks and
super-salesmen, industrialists or commissars, superficial people who are
technically efficient; but there is hope only in the integrated
individual, which only small schools can help to bring about. That is why
it is far more important to have schools with a limited number of boys and
girls and the right kind of educators, than to practise the latest and
best methods in large institutions.
Unfortunately, one of our confusing difficulties is that we think we
must operate on a huge scale. Most of us want large schools with imposing
buildings, even though they are obviously not the right kind of
educational centres, because we want to transform or affect what we call
the masses.
But who are the masses? You and I. Let us not get lost in the thought
that the masses must also be rightly educated. The consideration of the
mass is a form of escape from immediate action. Right education will
become universal if we begin with the immediate, if we are aware of
ourselves in our relationship with our children, with our friends and
neighbours. Our own action in the world we live in, in the world of our
family and friends, will have expanding influence and effect.
By being fully aware of ourselves in all our relationships we shall
begin to discover those confusions and limitations within us of which we
are now ignorant; and in being aware of them, we shall understand and so
dissolve them. Without this awareness and the self-knowledge which it
brings, any reform in education or in other fields will only lead to
further antagonism and misery.
In building enormous institutions and employing teachers who depend
on a system instead of being alert and observant in their relationship
with the individual student, we merely encourage the accumulation of
facts, the development of capacity, and the habit of thinking
mechanically, according to a pattern; but certainly none of this helps the
student to grow into an integrated human being. Systems may have a limited
use in the hands of alert and thoughtful educators, but they do not make
for intelligence. Yet it is strange that words like "system,"
"institution," have become very important to us. Symbols have taken the
place of reality, and we are content that it should be so; for reality is
disturbing, while shadows give comfort.
Nothing of fundamental value can be accomplished through mass
instruction, but only through the careful study and understanding of the
difficulties, tendencies and capacities of each child; and those who are
aware of this, and who earnestly desire to understand themselves and help
the young, should come together and start a school that will have vital
significance in the child's life by helping him to be integrated and
intelligent. To start such a school, they need not wait until they have
the necessary means. One can be a true teacher at home, and opportunities
will come to the earnest.
Those who love their own children and the children about them, and
who are therefore in earnest, will see to it that a right school is
started somewhere around the corner, or in their own home. Then the money
will come - it is the least important consideration. To maintain a small
school of the right kind is of course financially difficult; it can
flourish only on self-sacrifice, not on a fat bank account. Money
invariably corrupts unless there is love and understanding. But if it is
really a worthwhile school, the necessary help will be found. When there
is love of the child, all things are possible.
As long as the institution is the most important consideration, the
child is not. The right kind of educator is concerned with the individual,
and not with the number of pupils he has; and such an educator will
discover that he can have a vital and significant school which some
parents will support. But the teacher must have the flame of interest; if
he is lukewarm, he will have an institution like any other.
If parents really love their children, they will employ legislation
and other means to establish small schools staffed with the right kind of
educators; and they will not be deterred by the fact that small schools
are expensive and the right kind of educators difficult to find. They
should realize, however, that there will inevitably be opposition from
vested interests, from governments and organized religions, because such
schools are bound to be deeply revolutionary. True revolution is not the
violent sort; it comes about through cultivating the integration and
intelligence of human beings who, by their very life, will gradually
create radical changes in society.
But it is of the utmost importance that all the teachers in a school
of this kind should come together voluntarily, without being persuaded or
chosen; for voluntary freedom from worldliness is the only right
foundation for a true educational centre. If the teachers are to help one
another and the students to understand right values, there must be
constant and alert awareness in their daily relationship.
In the seclusion of a small school one is apt to forget that there is
an outside world, with its ever-increasing conflict, destruction and
misery. That world is not separate from us. On the contrary, it is part of
us, for we have made it what it is; and that is why, if there is to be a
fundamental alteration in the structure of society, right education is the
first step.
Only right education, and not ideologies, leaders and economic
revolutions, can provide a lasting solution for our problems and miseries;
and to see the truth of this fact is not a matter of intellectual or
emotional persuasion, nor of cunning argument.
If the nucleus of the staff in a school of the right kind is
dedicated and vital, it will gather to itself others of the same purpose,
and those who are not interested will soon find themselves out of place.
If the centre is purposive; and alert, the indifferent periphery will
wither and drop away; but if the centre is indifferent, then the whole
group will be uncertain and weak.
The centre cannot be made up of the headmaster alone. Enthusiasm or
interest that depends on one person is sure to wane and die. Such interest
is superficial, flighty and worthless, for it can be diverted and made
subservient to the whims and fancies of another. If the headmaster is
dominating, then the spirit of freedom and co-operation obviously cannot
exist. A strong character may build a first-rate school, but fear and
subservience creep in, and then it generally happens that the rest of the
staff is composed of nonentities.
Such a group is not conducive to individual freedom and
understanding. The staff should not be under the domination of the
headmaster, and the headmaster should not assume all the responsibility;
on the contrary, each teacher should feel responsible for the whole. If
there are only a few who are interested, then the indifference or
opposition of the rest will impede or stultify the general effort.
One may doubt that a school can be run without a central authority;
but one really does not know, because it has never been tried. Surely, in
a group of true educators, this problem of authority will never arise.
When all are endeavouring to be free and intelligent, cooperation with one
another is possible at all levels. To those who have not given themselves
over deeply and lastingly to the task of right education, the lack of a
central authority may appear to be an impractical theory; but if one is
completely dedicated to right education, then one does not require to be
urged, directed or controlled. Intelligent teachers are pliable in the
exercise of their capacities; attempting to be individually free, they
abide by the regulations and do what is necessary for the benefit of the
whole school. Serious interest is the beginning of capacity, and both are
strengthened by application.
If one does not understand the psychological implications of
obedience, merely to decide not to follow authority will only lead to
confusion. Such confusion is not due to the absence of authority, but to
the lack of deep and mutual interest in right education. If there is real
interest, there is constant and thoughtful adjustment on the part of every
teacher to the demands and necessities of running a school. In any
relationship, frictions and misunderstandings are inevitable; but they
become exaggerated when there is not the binding affection of common
interest.
There must be unstinted co-operation among all the teachers in a
school of the right kind. The whole staff should meet often, to talk over
the various problems of the school; and when they have agreed upon a
certain course of action, there should obviously be no difficulty in
carrying out what has been decided. If some decision taken by the majority
does not meet with the approval of a particular teacher, it can be
discussed again at the next meeting of the faculty.
No teacher should be afraid of the headmaster, nor should the
headmaster feel intimidated by the older teachers. Happy agreement is
possible only when there is a feeling of absolute equality among all. It
is essential that this feeling of equality prevail in the right kind of
school, for there can be real co-operation only when the sense of
superiority and its opposite are non-existent. If there is mutual trust,
any difficulty or misunderstanding will not just be brushed aside, but
will be faced, and confidence restored.
If the teachers are not sure of their own vocation and interest,
there is bound to be envy and antagonism among them, and they will expend
whatever energies they have over trifling details and wasteful bickerings;
whereas, irritations and superficial disagreements will quickly be passed
over if there is a burning interest in bringing about the right kind of
education. Then the details which loom so large assume their normal
proportions, friction and personal antagonisms are seen to be vain and
destructive, and all talks and discussions help one to find out what is
right and not who is right.
Difficulties and misunderstandings should always be talked over by
those who are working together with a common intention, for it helps to
clarify any confusion that may exist in one's own thinking. When there is
purposive interest, there is also frankness and comradeship among the
teachers, and antagonism can never arise between them; but if that
interest is lacking, though superficially they may co-operate for their
mutual advantage, there will always be conflict and enmity.
There may be, of course, other factors that are causing friction
among the members of the staff. One teacher may be overworked, another may
have personal or family worries, and perhaps still others do not feel
deeply interested in what they are doing. Surely, all these problems can
be thrashed out at the teachers' meeting, for mutual interest makes for
cooperation. It is obvious that nothing vital can be created if a few do
everything and the rest sit back.
Equal distribution of work gives leisure to all, and each one must
obviously have a certain amount of leisure. An overworked teacher becomes
a problem to himself and to others. If one is under too great a strain,
one is apt to become lethargic, indolent, and especially so if one is
doing something which is not to one's liking. Recuperation is not possible
if there is constant activity, physical or mental; but this question of
leisure can be settled in a friendly manner acceptable to all.
What constitutes leisure differs with each individual. To some who
are greatly interested in their work, that work itself is leisure; the
very action of interest, such as study, is a form of relaxation. To
others, leisure may be a withdrawal into seclusion.
If the educator is to have a certain amount of time to himself, he
must be responsible only for the number of students that he can easily
cope with. A direct and vital relationship between teacher and student is
almost impossible when the teacher is weighed down by large and
unmanageable numbers.
This is still another reason why schools should be kept small. It is
obviously important to have a very limited number of students in a class,
so that the educator can give his full attention to each one. When the
group is too large he cannot do this, and then punishment and reward
become a convenient way of enforcing discipline.
The right kind of education is not possible en masse. To study each
child requires patience, alertness and intelligence. To observe the
child's tendencies, his aptitudes, his temperament, to understand his
difficulties, to take into account his heredity and parental influence and
not merely regard him as belonging to a certain category - all this calls
for a swift and pliable mind, untrammelled by any system or prejudice. It
calls for skill, intense interest and, above all, a sense of affection;
and to produce educators endowed with these qualities is one of our major
problems today.
The spirit of individual freedom and intelligence should pervade the
whole school at all times. This can hardly be left to chance, and the
casual mention at odd moments of the words "freedom" and "intelligence" has
very little significance.
It is particularly important that students and teachers meet
regularly to discuss all matters relating to the well-being of the whole
group. A student council should be formed, on which the teachers are
represented, which can thrash out all the problems of discipline,
cleanliness, food and so on, and which can also help to guide any students
who may be somewhat self-indulgent, indifferent or obstinate.
The students should choose from among themselves
those who are to be responsible for the carrying out of decisions and for
helping with the general supervision. After all, self-government in the
school is a preparation for self-government in later life. If, while he is at
school, the child learns to be considerate, impersonal and intelligent in
any discussion pertaining to his daily problems, when he is older he will
be able to meet effectively and dispassionately the greater and more
complex trials of life. The school should encourage the children to
understand one another's difficulties and peculiarities, moods and
tempers; for then, as they grow up, they will be more thoughtful and
patient in their relationship with others.
This same spirit of freedom and intelligence should be evident also
in the child's studies. If he is to be creative and not merely an
automaton, the student should not be encouraged to accept formulas and
conclusions. Even in the study of a science, one should reason with him,
helping him to see the problem in its entirety and to use his own
judgment.
But what about guidance? Should there be no guidance whatsoever? The
answer to this question depends on what is meant by `guidance.' If in
their hearts the teachers have put away all fear and all desire for
domination, then they can help the student towards creative understanding
and freedom; but if there is a conscious or unconscious desire to guide
him towards a particular goal, then obviously they are hindering his
development. Guidance towards a particular objective, whether created by
oneself or imposed by another, impairs creativeness.
If the educator is concerned with the freedom of the individual, and
not with his own preconceptions, he will help the child to discover that
freedom by encouraging him to understand his own environment, his own
temperament, his religious and family background, with all the influences
and effects they can possibly have on him. If there is love and freedom in
the hearts of the teachers themselves, they will approach each student
mindful of his needs and difficulties; and then they will not be mere
automatons, operating according to methods and formulas, but spontaneous
human beings, ever alert and watchful.
The right kind of education should also help the student to discover
what he is most interested in. If he does not find his true vocation, all
his life will seem wasted; he will feel frustrated doing something which
he does not want to do. If he wants to be an artist and instead becomes a
clerk in some office, he will spend his life grumbling and pining away. So
it is important for each one to find out what he wants to do, and then to
see if it is worth doing. A boy may want to be a soldier; but before he
takes up soldiering, he should be helped to discover whether the military
vocation is beneficial to the whole of mankind.
Right education should help the student, not only to develop his
capacities, but to understand his own highest interest. In a world torn by
wars, destruction and misery, one must be able to build a new social order
and bring about a different way of living.
The responsibility for building a peaceful and enlightened society
rests chiefly with the educator, and it is obvious, without becoming
emotionally stirred up about it, that he has a very great opportunity to
help in achieving that social transformation. The right kind of education
does not depend on the regulations of any government or the methods of any
particular system; it lies in our own hands, in the hands of the parents
and the teachers.
If parents really cared for their children, they would build a new
society; but fundamentally most parents do not care, and so they have no
time for this most urgent problem. They have time for making money, for
amusements, for rituals and worship, but no time to consider what is the
right kind of education for their children. This is a fact that the
majority of people do not want to face. To face it might mean that they
would have to give up their amusements and distractions, and certainly
they are not willing to do that. So they send their children off to
schools where the teacher cares no more for them than they do. Why should
he care? Teaching is merely a job to him, a way of earning money.
The world we have created is so superficial, so artificial, so ugly
if one looks behind the curtain; and we decorate the curtain, hoping that
everything will somehow come right. Most people are unfortunately not very
earnest about life except, perhaps, when it comes to making money, gaining
power, or pursuing sexual excitement. They do not want to face the other
complexities of life, and that is why, when their children grow up, they
are as immature and unintegrated as their parents, constantly battling
with themselves and with the world.
We say so easily that we love our children; but is there love in our
hearts when we accept the existing social conditions, when we do not want
to bring about a fundamental transformation in this destructive society?
And as long as we look to the specialists to educate our children, this
confusion and misery will continue; for the specialists, being concerned
with the part and not with the whole, are themselves unintegrated.
Instead of being the most honoured and responsible occupation,
education is now considered slightingly, and most educators are fixed in a
routine. They are not really concerned with integration and intelligence,
but with the imparting of information; and a man who merely imparts
information with the world crashing about him is not an educator.
An educator is not merely a giver of information; he is one who
points the way to wisdom, to truth. Truth is far more important than the
teacher. The search for truth is religion, and truth is of no country, of
no creed, it is not to be found in any temple, church or mosque. Without
the search for truth, society soon decays. To create a new society, each
one of us has to be a true teacher, which means that we have to be both
the pupil and the master; we have to educate ourselves.
If a new social order is to be established, those who teach merely to
earn a salary can obviously have no place as teachers. To regard education
as a means of livelihood is to exploit the children for one's own
advantage. In an enlightened society, teachers will have no concern for
their own welfare, and the community will provide for their needs.
The true teacher is not he who has built up an impressive educational
organization, nor he who is an instrument of the politicians, nor he who
is bound to an ideal, a belief or a country. The true teacher is inwardly
rich and therefore asks nothing for himself; he is not ambitious and seeks
no power in any form; he does not use teaching as a means of acquiring
position or authority, and therefore he is free from the compulsion of
society and the control of governments. Such teachers have the primary
place in an enlightened civilization, for true culture is founded, not on
the engineers and technicians, but on the educators.
