Lesson by Charles Xavier - Instruct the Ignorant

Teachers are easy to resent. Even aside from the fact that spending time with them is compulsory, they occupy a nebulous spot in the pecking order of authority. Parents, for all their failings, are irreplaceable; and the only thing that it takes to cut ties with a disappointing boss is finding a new job. It’s teachers that are burdened with the worst of both worlds. It’s very easy to imagine our lives without them, but we’re still forced to follow them and seek their approval. 

Because of this, I didn’t like a single teacher until I was twelve. Compulsion was wedged too tightly between us. For my part, I couldn’t see them as people; and for their parts, the only part of my personhood that concerned them was whether or not I did the work. It wasn’t until I reached the seventh grade that I met a teacher who was interested in the things that I had the potential to achieve. 

This was the reason it took me so long to appreciate the X-Men. There was always a part of me that found Professor Charles Xavier—the benevolent telepath who wants nothing more than to see his students grow, thrive, and build a peaceful world—and his commitment to teaching less believable than Wolverine’s adamantine claws. I read the comics and watched the cartoons, but clung sourly to my belief that the only thing teachers cared about was crowd-control. As far as I was concerned, every one of Xavier’s students would have been better off without him. After all, they had superpowers—they didn’t need to worry about their futures. 

In a lot of ways, I was like the super-speedy Quicksilver as portrayed in X-Men: Apocalypse. Strictly speaking, there was nothing wrong with either one of us: we were quick, and clever, and lived very comfortable lives in the basements of our family homes. But we had no one to challenge us. 

For Quicksilver, it took Charles Xavier to make him realize how much he’d allowed his gifts to fester, and how much he had left to learn. And, ultimately, this turns out to be a very good thing for him—it’s only after this happens that he’s able to achieve something and perform good works for others. 

This is the reason why instructing the ignorant, no matter how smug it might sound, is actually a work of mercy. You might think that you’re fine the way you are, and you might even be right; but if you don’t challenge yourself, you won’t realize the full potential of the gifts that have been bestowed upon you.

Teresa de Mallorca is the pseudonym of a neophyte who just completed the RCIA program at Holy Name

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