Everything I needed to know I'm learning from somebody else

Guru. A teacher. A guide. A pipeline to the spiritual. A lightbulb in the darkness.

Who is your personal guru, the one who inspires you most to look deeply inside, or deeply outside your immediate situation to make sense of it?

Who have been your teachers along the way, and how have they influenced you?

Both my parents worked as public school teachers in Toronto, Canada. They didn't confine their teaching to the classroom. I turned out to be an early reader, and an early writer. But they couldn't pass along everything. I never understood math of any kind, and this blocked me from many avenues of potential greatness, including managing personal finance. Yet, from my dad, I learned enough about measurement ("measure twice and cut once") to help build cottages, coat racks, cupboards and closets.

For all the years I subsequently spent in getting a certificate, a diploma and a couple of degrees, I can't say that I remember many of "guru" quality. Several of my teachers scared the shit out of me. The ones for whom I had to work the hardest motivated me with fear and loathing. I feared them and they loathed me.

My ancient shop teacher, apparently afraid to allow students anywhere near a power tool, assigned us to construct a pull-toy out of a pine board. Fortunately, wheels were supplied. I presented the finished product to the class: a cat with an arched back and a long, curved tail, meticulously produced with a coping saw, attached to a block.

The Master drew a bony finger along its spine.

"This cat has fur! What grade of sandpaper did you use?" Amidst the general mirth I struggled to remember having seen a number on a sheet.

"Is this thing glued?" He poked and prodded at the two spots where I had anchored the beast with obvious globs which were just now drying. Moving on, he commented on the unevenness of the chamfer and the tiny misalignment of a back wheel.

Then he tossed the pine plaything on my workbench. In that instant a miracle took place: a change of species from Maine Coon to Manx.

In the course of time, I became a teacher, for a short time until I realized what a demanding profession it really is. Then I learned to appreciate the relative sanctuary of the library. Oddly enough, part of my job now is teaching. So I guess my parents really did sow a persistent seed.

Why do we remember the idiots, the unkind, the tyrants so easily? Did they have the greatest influence? Was it they who shaped us in our formative years? Is it their unthinking or intentional abrasiveness that we struggle to overcome as we follow our own path? As the poet said, "I am a part of all that I have met". Did he have a shop teacher?

I owe the title of this entry to Robert Fulghum, of course. His website isn't always up, but when it is, it's a thoughtful and funny and inspiring place. I wish I could claim I guru up with him.