It happens that a special type of relationship arises between a teacher and a student. But this rare, supreme and happy form of human relationships is by no means a pedagogical goal. Such relationships are not turned into a pedagogical model, and they will not grow out of it.
There lived a student and a teacher. The student called the teacher “a close person.” He did not know his father. And the teacher honored the student as an adopted son. Time passed: the teacher was less and less satisfied with his son as a student – he turned out to be not so much incapable as lazy; and the student was weighed down by the sad sighs of the teacher, felt his laziness, but did not make any special efforts to change something.
Gradually, the teacher began to put up with the fact that his son was negligent and there was no point in waiting for him. But he still loved him like a son: he got used to him, missed him when he had not seen him for a long time, and was always glad when he appeared again. True, the sighs did not become rarer, on the contrary, they became more frequent: rejoicing at his arrival, he was almost always upset after he left. He was sad and spiritually lonely. He understood that he was getting old, but he never raised a replacement for himself. He felt sorry for himself and his student. He was sad. And the student, growing up, began to get more and more tired of the forced and “antique” nature of his relationship with the teacher. He did not see or feel that for the old man he had long ago turned into that very “close person”, whose apprenticeship is not so important.
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- “I am a happy teacher”
… The student left, as they leave not from their father – hesitantly, but loudly, but from the teacher – quietly and firmly. No emotional outburst, no impact. So tired and burned out people leave, disappointed in themselves and in others, doubting everything, but not suffering. Having lowered the curtain, fenced off from everything unpleasant by silence and everyday employment. He left without thinking about the consequences, without looking back, in the hope that life is still ahead, that he is young and full of energy, that the straight-curve will take him somewhere. He did not regret anything, trying not to think about the past. And it didn’t cause him any trouble. He even felt relieved. The sword of Damocles of teacher’s exactingness and reproach no longer hung over him, the need to explain something, to constantly listen, to be always in a bad mood and dissatisfied with himself.
He was tired of reflecting all the time, tired of being subjected to constant pressure. “It’s easier,” he liked to say. “I have to find out for myself who I really am, what I need in life, where my path is and who is my true mentor.” And you can understand this only away from the teacher, on your own. For the teacher suppresses the will, imposes his way of thinking, prompts decisions, deprives of choice. It is impossible that you, like a baby, be led by the hand all your life, moreover, it is not clear where and why. We must leave. Quiet and peaceful. Peacefully. No matter what. The teacher will understand. And forgive. Or maybe he wants this for a long time? ..
The teacher really tried to understand him, understand and forget. Without stopping him from making his way to himself. He only became a little sadder in life from the fact that he stopped seeing his son. And a little more painful, because he realized that his student never had a father.