The Teacher Is Not Your Friend - Part 1.

On the disappearing art of process

Small tip before beginning to read - check out all references and links during the reading. The arrticle is meant to be some sort of a visual essay in which the clips and references emphasize and explain fully the idea.

Last week I came across a striking social media post about teaching. Somehow either the visuals or the phrasing achieved its purpose, and I paused my everlasting doom-scrolling to focus on the message. The title was “I Don’t Want My Teacher to Be My Friend”. It was about the weakening of the teacher’s position in our era, focusing mainly on the loss of authority. The autheor claims that one of the main reasons for this loss is discomfort with asymmetry, and on how confusing and counterproductive it is for the learning process.

I find the point interesting, true, and worth reflecting on. Personally, I occupy several professional positions in my career and craft: dancer (performer), director (of performances), and teacher (of movement). If you notice, each position includes an implied destination in brackets. In all cases, that destination suggests an interaction with another person. I need to be seen, I need to direct a team, or I need to teach something.

The teacher’s position, however, stands out within the 3. It does not imply a performative event, but a change. A change within the student. The responsibility for enabling this change (or creating the space for it) is mine, and it is a tremendously complex task that must negotiate individuality, context, time, relevance, tradition, community and more. From all of those, our era places a very strong emphasis almost exclusively on individuality and currency. Which ultimately creates a learning experience of “I’ll pay you for being myself.” I believe this is the point of friction and the critique that was also expressed in the social media post.

In my mentorship program, I base my pedagogical thinking on three root concepts: Shu-Ha-Ri, Learning By Experience, and Nonconformism. My position as a teacher is in constant flux and synthesis between these three perspectives. I would like to share them with you and offer a brief glimpse into my teacher’s mind.

The provocative teacher 'Fletcher' in the movie Whiplash Questioning ambition, boundries and the faith in greatness...

Shu-Ha-Ri This is a Japanese concept that divides the learning process into three stages:

1. Shu (守) – protecting rules and traditions

2. Ha (破) – detaching from previous knowledge toward individual knowledge

3. Ri (離) – leaving and innovating

Shu The idea is that a student must first be confronted with the general agreements of the art, what we often call “the basics”. Traditional crafts and martial arts offer a clear aesthetic example of this process. Without a solid base nothing can be developed. This base means the unnatural and foundational aspects of the chosen art. Only through them we can begin working on what we've actually came to learn Wax on, wax off and all the jazz... 

Beyond focus, humility, and preparation for later phases, this stage also protects communal knowledge passed on from generation to generation. Basics are like manners in this sense. Those who know, know. And you never know what you're missing out unless you get a glimpse into a new world through the language of its deep basics.

Ha

After earning a basic understanding, we can begin to ask where this knowledge meets us. This is where integration enters. Most likely, our basics are not yet perfect. We learn that our minds, our body proportions, or simply our interests do not fully match the ideal image embedded in the basics. We are not Beethoven, Michael Jordan or Sylvie Guillem.

In this phase, we meet ourselves in all our clarity and imperfections. These shortcomings become the very material through which we develop our own technique. We begin detaching from the ideal image and recognizing our own. We twist the punch a bit too much, pirouette in a low passé, or run with a slight hunch. We stall, delay or miss the cue and through that begin noticing other options. We still respect the principles, but we start adjusting them, not to make something better, but to make it more fitting. I like to call this phase The wisdom of the losing horse.This phase is tricky. It is where many people today both begin and end. When approached too early, it risks indulgence and nihilism. When treated as the final stage, it fails to contribute back to the lineage of knowledge and consequentially to society. In our era, this phase has a strong economic appeal, since each individuation can be framed as an invention, especially if it fits into a forty-second vertical clip. But knowing how knowledge serves you is only step two. And when approached correctly It should actually prepare you for the third and final one.

Painting by Hon'ami Kōetsu (15158-1637)

Ri Ri is a profound moment of leaving. In traditional Japan, the master would literally ask you to leave and never come back. However, the concept is much more universal than it seems. You would understand that you learnt all the master could give you and that now you have to take all this knowledge and use it in your own terms. We don't need to romanticize it though as it is certainly also relevant in our times. In business, many workers climb the hierarchy, become partners, and eventually leave with what they have learned to build their own company.

The logic is that you are now ready to step outside the protection and the framework and construct a new one. You might be mocked, judged, and doubted. Yet the tools acquired along the way will offer resilience, flexibility and strategies to create something new. Still, nothing is entirely new under the sun. Your originality becomes a test of the tradition or school you came from.

The recent film A Complete Unknown portrays Bob Dylan’s transition from Ha to Ri vividly, when he left folk music and embraced the electric guitar in the 1960s. The response was outrage and disappointment, yet it led to one of the most influential figures in modern popular culture. It is important to note that despite the metaphor of the movie, this stage relates to personal innovation and not social or cultural one. Ri mostly happens quietly within one's heart and without paparazzi, electric guitars and grandour.

Shu-Ha-Ri should not be seen as absolute stages but rather as patterns and circles. Ri can appear within Ha, and in both Ha and Ri you occasionally need to return to shu Shu to clean up and sharpen your basics. Preservation, integration, and innovation form a lifelong cycle, containing many small cycles within it.

An illustration of the nuances within each phase 

Personally, I do not think every learning process should be viewed through this lens. There are fields where context or content do not align well with it. Both time sensitive fields of knowledge as well as practices requiring a very pragmatic approach will not sit well with Shu-Ha-Ri. My other pedagogical perspectives sometimes even contrast with it, and I do consider Shu-Ha-Ri abit outdated in relation to many dominant ideas of the 21st century.

Still, I believe the world would be a better place if everyone experienced this cycle at least once in their lifetime. Through one sincere and meaningful pursuit. There is a very particular happiness and fulfillment that comes along with it and that seem to be difficult to gain in any other way.

In part 2, I will explore Learning by Experience and Nonconformism. Meanwhile, I'd be happy to read your questions or reflections and will do my best to answer all of them.