When I was teaching a social justice and peacemaking course at DePaul University in Chicago, I gave students a take-home mid-term exam that over 70% of the class failed.
We had been studying, among others, Arun Gandhi’s book, Legacy of Love: My Education in the Path of Nonviolence. In the book, Arun, Mahatma Gandhi’s grandson, shares the story of how his father, Manilal, Gandhi’s son, attempted to parent according to Mahatma Gandhi’s teachings.
Arun was sixteen and had just learned to drive. He drove into town with his father to run some errands. In the early afternoon, he dropped his father at the bank and then took the car to the garage for repairs. His father told him to meet him back at the bank at 5 pm.
Arun took the car to the garage and the repairs were completed much more quickly than anticipated, so Arun decided to go see a movie. He did not get back to the bank until close to 6 pm.
When Manilal asked Arun why he was so late, Arun told his father that the repairs at the garage had taken longer than expected.
Manilal replied, “Funny, that’s not what they said when I called the garage.”
Arun had been caught in a lie. Instead of punishing Arun, Manilal said simply, “Clearly I have not conveyed to you the importance of telling the truth.”
Accepting responsibility for Arun’s failure, Manilal then added, “I will walk home.”
Arun drove the car slowly alongside his father. It took them over an hour to get home. Arun’s mother was terribly worried. Arun shared that he never lied to his parents again.
Arun’s story was on my mind when I announced to our class that most of them had failed the mid-term.
In light of the principles we had been studying, in particular, Arun’s lesson, I said to the students, “Obviously, I did not convey clearly enough what I expected from you.”
I then added, “We will discuss and decide together how you can redo the exam or do extra credit to help your grade. Also, in the spirit of what we have been studying, I will do a three day liquid fast for your success.”
We had read the words of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Gandhi and others who had engaged in fasting as a way to invite transformation of hearts and minds toward deeper truth.
After I made this announcement, three students raised their hands and asked if they could join me in the fast. I did not expect this. I was deeply moved.
Together we discussed ways in which students could rewrite their exam and do extra credit to help improve their grades. All of the students took advantage of this opportunity, and not only passed, but did quite well. Most raised their grades significantly.
More importantly, the students who joined me in the fast shared their experiences with their classmates. They spoke of the transformative power of fasting. None of them had ever fasted before. They shared that they felt a spiritual power internally, and a deeper sense of connectedness to one another, as a result of fasting. They also said that they felt a bit more connected to those who go without. They expressed a deep, visceral sense that their individual success and well-being was intimately interconnected with the success and well-being of their fellow classmates.
They also made a profound connection to a central teaching of Thich Nhat Hanh, a Vietnamese Buddhist monk nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize by Dr. King, and one of the human rights advocates we had been studying in class. Hanh believes that the verb ‘to be’ should be replaced with the verb, ‘to inter-be’. “It is not that ‘we are’,” he says, “it is that we inter-are’.” Thus, if one is harmed, we all are harmed; if we harm another, we harm ourselves.
The students who had fasted felt this connection. They shared that they had come to understand more deeply that our failure or success as a human community depends upon all of us seeing that we are all responsible not only for our own success, but also for our collective success or failure as a global community.
If some are deprived of human rights, we all are. If we deprive others of human rights, we are depriving ourselves of the same rights. One of the students who fasted said that she more fully understood the words of Dr. King that we had discussed in class: “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”
The students’ stories and insights were a moving testament to the transformative power of the principles we had been studying put into practice. Seeming failure was transformed into success.
I was never more proud, for one of the greatest moments for a teacher is when your students become teachers themselves.
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