Teaching in a university is a great challenge. A beautiful challenge. Certainly, you must be prepared, study much and know how to anticipate the questions of your students. Certain kids, wanting to challenge or just possessing a stroke of genius, put you to the test. They want to know if what you are proposing to them has the strength to resist in situations that are different from those in which your teaching was born. Philosophy is a very theoretical subject, in the beautiful and noble sense of the words. But theories are the most fragile thing that exists. If we are intellectually honest, just one counterexample is enough and we must give up our theory, which perhaps we constructed with patience over the course of years and of which we have become genuinely affectionate. And so, when you enter to teach a lesson, there is always a certain tension you feel: anything can happen because, before you, are minds that are young, fresh, sharp…
Each student asks that you respond to their search for meaning
The students are not always attentive and motivated, however. Almost all of my students come into class with at least one or two screens in tow: cell phone, iPad, laptop. And often, the screen attracts more of their attention than your concepts. I take this as a provocation. The lesson must have order and rhythm; it must be surprising. From every lesson, the kids must come away with at least a clear idea. In time, I’ve understood that to obtain this result it is necessary to meticulously prepare. My notes resemble the script of a film. There are even annotations about the time.
But the real challenge is the “why.” Each student, explicitly or not, asks that you respond to their search for meaning, for the reason why it is worth it to struggle to learn what you are proposing to them. Preaching does not work. Explicit language and direct communication are efficacious only when the kids formulate a direct question. It is necessary to accept the fact that meaning is communicated through your person. With the passion that you put in what you say, with the energy that you transmit, with the respect and patience with which you treat your students. Someone might remain fascinated, ask a follow up question, stop after the lesson to talk with you. It is somewhat of a dream for a university professor like me that, besides teaching philosophy, the students could know the beauty that I have encountered and that I could communicate it to everyone.
Some years ago, a tall and thin girl came to a lesson. She was different from the others. She asked poignant questions, without a polemical spirit. She wanted to understand. She was not happy with typical answers. One day we sat down to speak and she told me about herself, about her life. A friendship began. After some time, she asked me to become her spiritual director. She was extremely faithful to the relationship, and we met regularly for years. Observing how her spiritual growth matured, at a certain point I began to suggest some readings, like Is It Possible to Live This Way? by Fr. Giussani. I was surprised because in our next meetings she cited the book more than once. And so I invited her to School of Community, the catechism for adults proposed by the movement of Communion and Liberation. If at the beginning she came only to be nice to me -she told me herself, “I will come when I can”- now, her schedule revolves around this appointment. She has become my friend and a friend of my friends, she has met the beauty that I have met, which moved me to give my life to God in the Fraternity of St. Charles.
