On Being Teachable
Kate L. Kirkham
This devotional talk was given on
19 May 1987 in the de long Concert Hall.
ON BEING LEARNERS
In the Book of Mormon we read:
"And the church did meet together
oft, to fast and to pray, and to speak one with another
concerning the welfare of their souls"
(Moroni 6:5).
This also seems like an important
time to meet together often to fast and to pray and to speak one
with another concerning the welfare
of our souls. Some of us may experience too many
meetings--are we not meeting and
talking together all the time?
But there is in this scripture, and
in others, a particular spirit of meeting one with another-a mutual
caretaking, a spiritual reciprocity--even
as the Apostle Paul entreated: a kindness, a desire to be
tenderhearted one to another (Ephesians
4:32).
In preparing for today, I felt I should
focus on what readies us to learn of the welfare of other souls.
What readies us to be taught? And
why, when we as a people are engaged in teaching the gospel
of Jesus Christ, should we also be
concerned with being teachable?
Several years ago, a theme of the
General Relief Society meeting was "Learn, Then Teach."
However, we sometimes only think
about learning when we are in a classroom. We associate
being teachable with being in attendance.
In a campus setting we can further link learning to a
required curriculum, specified prerequisites,
sequenced electives, and defined areas of study.
We develop beliefs about who can
and should be teaching us. So as students, when we finally get
into the classes we want, it is fairly
easy to adopt the attitude "Well, I'm here, the rest is up to you."
As a teacher, I share with any of
you who have faced a classroom the challenges of looking at
faces, watching body postures, listening
to questions, and trying to determine each person's
"readiness to learn." I accept there
is a responsibility and a requirement to be ready to teach; but
today I want to focus on that powerful
part of the interaction we influence as learners.
What are we like as learners? Over
the years I've watched and had students describe to me
(usually after grades were in) their
roles as learners.
Some would take the posture "Go ahead,
get my attention if you can" or "I already know about this
subject." Some would say, "I don't
want to know about this subject--it's required," or "I need to
know exactly what I'm supposed to
learn here," or "You've got my attention, but I don't understand
you."
There are also those who come inquiring,
ready to risk asking the "dumb question," ready to
contribute to the learning of others.
My point is: Are we willing and able to look at what we are like
as learners? Are we paying attention
to how we ready ourselves to learn-our style, assumptions,
expectations, attitudes, etc.? Are
we aware how much we really influence, if not control, how
teachable each of us really is?
Now, if the place of learning is not
the traditional classroom, but a congregation or an
interdenominational community, and
the curriculum is not math or English, but the gospel of Jesus
Christ--the character of our being
one with another heretofore, here and hereafter--then what
would describe us as learners? Who
may instruct us?
What does it mean to be teachable?
This is a difficult concept for me to explain. I have
experienced it in myself and in others
with more certainty than I can articulate a description.
Because of our individuality, the
expression varies. The common characteristics seem to be
(although listed separately, these
form a tangible whole) a sense of one's incompleteness--a
gnawing awareness of a desired, divine
and future state; a contrite spirit; a humble heart; a
knowledge of one's worth; a reverence
for the worth of others; the trusting readiness often most
apparent in little children; a belief
in one's abilities and one's capacity to grow and to contribute;
and an acknowledgment of our interdependency
as sons and daughters of our heavenly parents.
Perhaps, fundamentally, being teachable
means that we daily open ourselves to the consistency
of God's love for us. We accept we
are loved and make real in our complex, earthly lives the
cornerstone commandments to love
our God and our neighbors as ourselves.
We can acknowledge that no matter
who we are or where we are, encoded into each of us are
two things: (1) this common language
of learning that is love, and (2) a most common bond of
purpose: we came to learn and to
"speak one with another concerning the welfare of our souls"--in
fact, to progress eternally.
Our capacity to be taught is infinite--whatever
our current circumstances, whatever the conditions
of our physical abilities, and whatever
status we may hold in the eyes of others. It is often easy to
move away from such a compelling
awareness of our potential. We can both allow and assist
others in getting in the way of our
being teachable. We can find for a variety of reasons--fear,
doubt, convenience, comfort--ways
to deny our capacity for learning, to lose faith in ourselves, to
lose faith in the love of those around
us, or to lose faith in God's love for us. By not believing in our
capacity to learn (even from our
mistakes), by not believing in our capacity to influence others for
good, we attempt to deny the power
of God in us.
I hope I have conveyed to you my belief
in our capacity and responsibility to remain ever the
learning children of our Heavenly
Father and my belief as well that this condition of being
teachable is fundamentally linked
to God's love for us and ours for him and for one another. Now I
would like to suggest five things
that can have an impact on this quality of being teachable and
comment on three areas where we can
currently edify each other as we speak one with another.
TO IMPROVE OUR TEACHABLENESS
First, let us demonstrate what we
say we already know so that our preparation to learn even more
is evident to our earthly parents,
to our Heavenly Father, and to others around us in the
congregation.
Why are we constantly reminded of
things? Why are basic principles repeated so frequently?
Perhaps we have not demonstrated
in our daily behavior our ability to do those things. Long ago,
King Benjamin advised his congregation:
"If you believe all these things see that ye do them"
(Mosiah 4:10).
If we are demonstrating what we have
learned, even a reminder will be heard without offense.
When I was sixteen I backed out of
our steep driveway directly into the only car parked on the
other side of the street. I think
that over the decades I've now proven I can navigate my parents'
driveway, and because of that their
reminders are not heard the same way they were the first few
times after the accident when I had
not yet proved myself."
Sometimes we treat requests to visit
teach, home teach, prepare for meetings, or even to be
compassionate as things we could
do if we really had time or if we really wanted to do them. I
have experienced the deception that
can come when we confuse thinking about possible actions
with the actual effort required to
do them. I don't learn as much from thinking about opportunities to
be charitable as I do from exercising
charity in my conduct with others and learning from those
very real experiences.
What if, as a ward or stake congregation,
when we next met together, we had all paid our tithes,
made clear our love for our neighbors
in how we had treated them and spoken with each other,
had proven obedient to the commandments,
and in diverse ways of expression given evidence of
the fullness of our faith? What would
the speakers say to us? By our efforts wouldn't we have
demonstrated a readiness to learn
that would call forth even greater instructions?
In discussing the glory of the city
of Enoch, Neal Maxwell presented a narrative progressively
illustrating the readiness of a people
and included these observations:
Our unity is not the unity born of
compulsion or of mindless rapport, but of the realization that such
unity is a necessity....
It helps greatly to do first things
first, not only because these are most important, but because the
order of things does matter....
... In our meetings we recount our
own blessings, and as we hear the blessings of others, we both
feel and seethe accumulations of
affection from God to his people. [Neal A. Maxwell, Of One
Heart (Salt Lake City, Utah: Deseret
Book, 1975), pp. 44-45]
As Alma said, "By small and simple
things are great things brought to pass" (Alma 37:6). Let us
demonstrate our ability to do even
"small and simple things."
Second, we learn about being teachable
when we seek to balance being directed and being
anxiously engaged. There are absolutes
in life--things we are not supposed to do. But there is
also ambiguity--several possible
ways to do good, to influence others, and multiple avenues to
excel. In the face of ambiguity,
some of us will be directed and will know for certain what to do; for
others of us, it will be up to us
to figure out what to do!
Sometimes what I personally should
be learning is painfully obvious to myself and to others.
Sometimes I have struggled for years
to understand, to discern the meaning of an experience, or
to embrace a principle.
Being receptive and being active are
both ways to enhance our teachableness. There is probably
a little bit of both Julia Child
and MacGyver in each of us. Some of us want the recipe; we want the
ingredients explicitly identified
and their relationship clarified. On the other hand, some of us just
want the basic principles and will
make do with whatever "materials" or conditions are around us.
(Ask anyone who watches ABC's MacGyver
what a MacGyverism is.) Our differences in how we
approach learning should invite interest
from each other and not judgment.
If we err in the extreme--either in
thinking "if we are not told, we don't have to try" or "I resent being
told, I can figure it out for myself"--we
diminish our ability to be taught.
Third, we can seek to increase our
capacity to discern. Our lives are complex, our circumstances
varied. Failure to develop our spiritual
capacity to discern could leave us overwhelmed,
overdependent on others for meaning,
overcommitted, or overreacting to the next thing that pops
up. We are here to make choices.
This was made evident to me quite powerfully in a priesthood
blessing in which I was told in essence,
"You will know what is good to do if you do not reason it
away." I have often remembered that
instruction and thought about the criteria it suggests for
discerning what is good to do in
my life.
I believe we develop discernment by
exercising it. We can combine our efforts with the guidance
of the Spirit. We can compare our
experiences with those of others without feeling we are
competing. We can rejoice in their
excellence and sill know there are ways we can also excel.
We can monitor our own progress and
discern the gains we make and the patterns in which we
are vulnerable to temptation. I am
indebted to a wise old friend (both in years and association) of
another faith who taught me to take
an active interest in learning about the patterns in my life and
how temptations occurred. He struggled
a long time with some of his temptations and finally
decided to take a pro-active interest.
He would try to anticipate where in his life he might
encounter that "ole trickster devil"
again. He became a good scout. He watched the terrain of his
life and could tell where it looked
like his own form of quicksand might be. He rerouted and gave
up trying to see how close he could
get to that quicksand without getting caught.
Fourth, we are teachable when we can
trust in the Lord. Sometimes we won't know in advance;
sometimes in our lives we will "wait
upon the Lord" for a long time. But we still need to ready
ourselves. We need to be learning
even though the specific opportunities to express what we are
learning may not be as apparent or
as exciting as we wish.
I gained an appreciation of this point
a few weeks ago when I accompanied my sister to St.
George. Her three children sing in
the Utah Valley Children's Choir, and she wanted to hear their
concert. I wanted to sleep or read;
she convinced me I could do both in the car while she drove.
The kids had worked hard, paying attention
to Beverly Thomas' direction, learning lyrics,
rehearsing harmony, and trying to
show up at performances in the appropriate outfits. They did a
good job. After their last concert
the kids had a chance to stop in Zion National Park on the way
home. Diane and I pulled up alongside
the bus as it unloaded sixty noisy kids who raced up the
path to Weeping Rock. We decided
it would be safer to wait in the parking lot.
All of a sudden it was strangely quiet
in the canyon. We couldn't see the kids. And then truly
angelic sounds filled the canyon.
People in the parking lot who were not in our group stopped. We
all heard the words echoing in the
canyon: "We will sing for the Lord is listening. He hears the
praise of our hearts. We will sing
for the Lord is listening. We lift our voices and start to sing for the
Lord" ("Sing for the Lord Is Listening,"
Steven Kapp Perry, 1986). It was a beautiful moment of
clarity and harmony.
When the song ended there was a joyous
shout followed by the more familiar chaotic noises of
kids racing back to the bus. When
they got back their excitement and joy was tangible. "Did you
hear us?" They relayed the story
of an older couple who were nearby as they started. When they
offered to sing for them, the couple
smiled and started to back away, only to stand transfixed as
the kids began singing.
Now when they started choir, nobody
promised them a perfect moment in Zion Park on April 29,
but there it was. If they had not
been ready--individually prepared and collectively willing to
participate--they could not have
had that experience. It is one thing to arrive at a place like Zion's
Weeping Rock and realize, "Yes, this
could be a great place for a group of kids to spontaneously
experience the product of their learning
and the Lord's love through music," and quite another to
feel, "Oh, here is the place you
have prepared, and having been taught, I am ready."
Earlier, in describing the qualities
that contribute to being teachable, I listed self-worth. How we
understand self-worth greatly impacts
the degree to which we are teachable. So my fifth point is
that self-worth is different from
self-importance. God loves us and we are of value to him. If I am
teachable I can learn from those
who acknowledge their worth without becoming vain, I can
assess their strength and talents
without becoming boastful, and, when surrounded by the
blessings of a loving God, I can
remember Alma's caution to his son:
Do not say: O God, I thank thee that
we are better than our brethren; but rather say: O Lord, forgive
my unworthiness, and remember my
brethren in mercy. [Alma 38:14]
If we do not care much for ourselves,
then to love our neighbor as ourself doesn't mean much.
Loving ourselves can magnify our
charity toward others. If we overvalue or undervalue ourselves,
we are less able and ready to learn
from others. We either think we can't learn much from them, or
we don't trust their motive for interacting
with us.
Helping someone to love himself or
herself is harder than just telling that person you love them.
We each have a gift. We can learn
how to remind each other of the value of our part and the
contribution we can make to the whole.
STRENGTHENING OUR INTERACTIONS
Now, having sought to be more teachable
and able to embrace the qualities and to comprehend
the challenges, I want to suggest
three aspects of our interaction where being teachable seems to
be a very needed goal.
First, that we might better know the
experience of being a woman or a man in our congregation.
What is it like for someone who is
different from us? If we are women, what can we know of the
experience of men as fathers, husbands,
siblings, and brothers in the gospel? If we are men, what
can we know of the experience of
women?
If we too quickly assume we know what
the experience of someone else is or should be, then we
are less prepared to learn from "speaking
together concerning the welfare of our souls." I can
imagine that Elder Maxwell's description
of the quality of conversation in the city of Enoch is
instructive to us as both men and
women:
You should observe ... how ... they
listen to each other instead of seeking to display their own
learning. They are more unwilling
to be impressed than they are eager to impress. [Maxwell, p. 15]
I think that description is important
no matter if we are "eager to impress" others of our
"conservative" or "liberal" values.
We have much to learn from one another in living the gospel,
and we can best do that by staying
in relationship to each other. I know in my own life it is easier to
talk about somebody than with them--but
my learning is different when we are speaking together. I
have learned to listen without fearing
that others will think my listening means agreement. And I
have learned that being too anxious
to tell others where our differences exist hasn't helped me
understand them.
I welcome the opportunities to share
the similarities and differences of our experiences as sisters
in living the gospel. I am interested
in how men around us support our sisterhood and our learning.
I want to know how they experience
women supporting their friendships as men as well as
sustaining the priesthood they hold.
A second area where being teachable
can strengthen our interaction has to do with the quality of
our service to one another in our
congregation and communities. Having heard that where much is
given much is expected, I have sometimes
allowed my own need to be serving to determine what I
did rather than paying close attention
to the needs of others. Seeking to meet the needs of others
is more of a challenge than doing
what is convenient for me to be "helpful."
Paying attention to others is a powerful
factor in how well we serve. Tim Gallwey wrote about the
necessity of paying attention to
service. Interestingly enough, he was talking about tennis. He was
suggesting that to improve our serve
we had to learn to love the tennis ball. "What!" I remember
saying. "Love a tennis ball?" But
he meant pay attention to it, see how it bounces, see where the
seams are when it comes at you--concentrate.
When we love, we concentrate our attention.
By truly paying attention to others
around me and concentrating on them, I can place myself in their
service and am taught what is needed.
I saw a very pragmatic example of this a few semesters
ago when a study group member who
obviously had better computer skills than the others didn't
take the attitude "I learned it,
so can they," and didn't say, "I'll do it since you'll never learn this
anyway." Instead, he watched, he
made himself available, he answered questions, he
encouraged. He didn't exaggerate.
In his daily interactions with his study group he was taught how
he could best teach them, and he
did.
Now, last of all, the best expression
of our willingness to be teachable is to be ever ready to say at
any moment in our lives, "Nevertheless,
not my will, but thine.
Elder Maxwell states, "The Lord loves
both the teachable and the unteachable, but it is through the
obedience of the teachable that God
can help these helpers, that all might be benefited thereby"
(Maxwell, p. 48).
For each of us and for myself, I pray
that we will realize that our obedience; our agency; our
acknowledgment of God's love for
us and our love for him, for our neighbor, and for ourselves; our
testimony of the truthfulness of
his gospel; and our willingness to trust his further instruction are
never more evident than when we can
echo in a small way in our lives the words of our elder
brother: "Here am I, send me." I
say this in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.