I’m pleasantly surprised to have seen Carver’s “Cathedral” put on this week’s readings. It’s a long-time favorite of mine, first introduced to me many years ago either in high school or in undergrad—I don’t quite remember that part. But many years later, today, looking at it again, I read it differently. Similar to what Ben and Miriam have posted previously, perhaps it is best to see it almost as a fruitful exercise in instruction.

Many times as writers and literary scholars we take for granted how easily things come to us. To turn around and make it simple for another person that is quite not as experienced or quick on the draw—to get to the essence of a text—can be a very difficult, strenuous, and sometimes painful process. Because like images—and our imagination—we structure our understanding of language in methods that suit our personal preferences. Knowledge, thus, is stored in a sort of “personalized” fashion. You can’t teach a classroom expecting everyone learns the same way, which is why I think lecture-format classrooms are so harmful. To attempt drawing out or extrapolating similar conclusions to your own, from a text, from the minds of other readers never a care for what they think or believe or understand or wish to know, well … that can be quite difficult—if not unabashedly flawed thinking in teaching instruction.

But I guess, to be fair, what do I know?

At 25 years old, this being the final semester of my Master’s degree, I’ve never had the opportunity to teach either a Literature or Composition course. I’ve worked as a tutor over the years, however, and I can assuredly admit that some processes of bridging gaps between my knowledge and another student’s at many times were filled with bumps and impediments.

Like Carver’s narrator with the old, blind man, I was at times forced outside of my comfort zone to suit the needs of the “tutee,” so to speak. And in doing so, I often learned a lot about myself and my own understanding of texts, language, and meaning while at the same time helping students learn about, develop, or improve theirs. Education is a collaborative process that requires dropped barriers of both the student and the instructor to get the most of it, and that doesn’t always come easy.

I reflect back to last week’s in-class discussion, which I spent for the most part of in silence, observing, as the rest of your addressed the issue of apathy in the classroom. I wonder, now, if apathy is largely caused because of this disconnect—the failure to remove barriers. It can be difficult to motion troubled students into participation, but perhaps if we stepped off our pedestals—closed our eyes like the blind man if you will—we may manage to convince one or two of them the true inspiration of studying works of language. And who knows. Perhaps we’ll learn a thing or two about ourselves, too.