Here is a small book—easily available in bookstores or online—which all of us, especially teachers, would do well to read. If you would rather watch a movie than read, then see the lovely movie with the same title.
One of the wisest and most touching books I have read in the recent past is Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom. The movie based on it touches the heart and mind.
It is a moving account of the conversations between retired Professor Morris Schwartz (Morrie) and his former student, Mitch, in the months after Morrie discovered that he was going to die soon.
Morrie’s “death sentence” came in 1994, when he was diagnosed of Lou Gehrig’s disease, a serious neurological illness with no cure.
In this disease, the muscles become weaker one by one. You cannot walk, or stand, or later even sit. Finally, you are breathing through a hole in your throat—but your mind remains clear.
Morrie had a choice—either to wither and die, or to make the best of the time left. He decided to make the best of what was left.
He welcomed visitors. He held discussion groups on dying. When a friend died of heart attack, he went for the funeral, and came back sad, because people said nice things about the dead man, which they had not told him during his life.
In the interview, Morrie said how he had taken a decision to live, rather than just wither away.
“I am on the last great journey here—and people want me to tell them what to pack.”
Let me quote some of the precious lessons found in this gem of a book. The words in quotation marks are Morrie’s.
“Dying is only one thing to be sad over…So many of the people who come to visit me are unhappy.”
Love: “So many people walk around with a meaningless life. They seem half-asleep…This is because they are chasing the wrong things. The way you get meaning into your life is to devote yourself to loving others…to creating something that gives you purpose and meaning.”
“Now that I am suffering, I feel much closer to people who are suffering.”
“Can I tell you the thing that I am learning most with this disease? The most important thing in life is to learn how to give out love, and to let it come in.”
Death: Morrie told Mitch: “Learn how to die, and you learn how to live.”
Money: We cannot, Morrie insisted, substitute material things for love or friendship. “Do you know what really gives you satisfaction? Offering others what you have to give.”
Morrie told Mitch it is not worth trying to impress people. Those who despise you will do so, whatever you do. Others will be envious.
Giving: Morrie shared why he spent time listening to others’ problems, although he was in constant pain. “Giving to other people is what makes me feel alive.”
“Do the things…that come from the heart. [Then] you won’t be longing for somebody else’s things.”
In the coming weeks, Morrie became weaker, and the pain increased. He knew he was nearing the end. “This is our last thesis together,” he joked. “We want to get it right.”
“Love is how you stay alive,” he said, “Even after you are gone.”
Mitch loved the way Morrie’s face would light up as he entered the room. In spite of his pain and rapidly worsening health, Morrie gave full attention to the person with him. “I believe in being fully present. That means you should be with the person you are with.” Morrie used to insist with his students that they learn to listen, Albom recalled. When people haven’t found a meaning in their lives, Morrie felt, they are constantly restless.
Forgiveness: The professor told Mitch how he had been hurt by a friend’s behaviour and didn’t forgive him. Then his voice choked: “Mitch, a few years ago, he died of cancer…I never got to see him. I never got to forgive. It pains me so much.”
“Forgive others. Don’t wait, Mitch. Not everyone gets the time I’m getting.”
With evident love, Morrie told his student, “I do not know why you came back to me. But I want to say this—and here his voice choked—“If I could have had another son, I would have liked it to be you.”
Morrie had chosen the place where he wanted to be buried: on a hill, beneath a tree, overlooking a pond. He asked Mitch to come and visit his grave, and talk to him when he had problems. “After I’m dead, you talk. I listen.”
Morrie brought up the topic of Mitch’s brother, from whom Mitch felt estranged. He insisted on the need to get back to him, and assured him he would find a way.
During their last meeting, gasping for breath, Morrie asked for Mitch’s hand, put it on his heart and said: “You are a good soul….touched me here.”
Then he looked at Mitch. “Love…you.” “I love you too.” “You always have.”
Morrie cried. Mitch held him, and stroked his hair. He put a palm against Morrie’s face. Here are Mitch’s next words: “I kissed him closely, my face against his…longer than usual, in case it gave him a split second of pleasure…I blinked back the tears…”
Mitch Albom got back in touch with his estranged brother. He told him: “You are my only brother. I don’t want to lose you. I love you.” Never before had he told him that.
He ends the book this way:
“Have you ever really had a teacher? One who saw you as a raw but precious thing, a jewel that, with wisdom, could be polished to proud shine?…
“The last class of my professor’s life took place once a week, in his home, by a window in his study where he could watch a small hibiscus plant shed its pink flowers. The class met on Tuesday. No books were required. The subject was the meaning of life. It was taught from experience.
“The teaching goes on.”
READ THE BOOK. OR WATCH THE MOVIE. LEARN WHAT IT MEANS TO REALLY LIVE, AND WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A TEACHER.
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