A good teacher must be able to put himself in the place of those

“A good teacher must be able to put himself in the place of those who find learning hard.” – Eliphas Levi

In these few simple words, Eliphas Levi, the mystic philosopher of the nineteenth century, unveils a truth as old as wisdom itself. To teach is not merely to speak; it is to see into the heart of another and walk their path of confusion with compassion. The good teacher is not the one who dazzles with brilliance, but the one who stoops with understanding. For to put oneself in the place of those who find learning hard is to enter the sacred struggle of the human mind — to feel the weight of ignorance, to bear the ache of doubt, and to gently guide another soul toward light.

Many possess knowledge, but few possess empathy. The scholar may climb the mountain of understanding and forget the steepness of the ascent. He may stand at the summit, proud of his view, and call out to those below, “Come up!” forgetting that their feet are bleeding and their breath is short. The true teacher, however, remembers the climb. He recalls the stumbles, the dark nights of frustration, and the moments when the flame of hope flickered low. In remembering, he becomes merciful. His teaching becomes not an act of pride, but of love.

In the olden days, there was a story told of Confucius, the sage of China. One of his disciples, slow of thought and weak in expression, wept before him, saying, “Master, I cannot learn as others do.” Confucius did not scorn him. Instead, he sat beside him and said, “Then we shall learn together.” He spoke not as one above, but as one beside. In time, the disciple’s heart grew strong, and he became wise in his own way. This story endures because it reveals the heart of teaching — that understanding the learner is greater than mastering the lesson. The teacher who descends to lift another ascends higher than any philosopher who speaks only to himself.

Eliphas Levi, a man of both reason and mysticism, understood that knowledge without compassion is sterile. In his world of symbols, alchemy, and divine understanding, he saw that to transform another’s mind is the highest form of magic. And the alchemy of the teacher begins not with power, but with humility. When a teacher kneels to the level of the struggling learner, he turns ignorance into gold. For it is not the flame that teaches, but the warmth it gives to those who shiver in the cold.

To put oneself in another’s place requires more than intellect — it demands imagination and empathy. The teacher must feel what the student feels, fear what they fear, and believe — even when the student does not yet believe in themselves. Only then can he guide with gentleness instead of judgment. Those who teach with scorn may fill the mind with facts but will never awaken the soul. But those who teach with compassion ignite a light that burns long after the lesson ends.

There is power in patience. The teacher who waits as his students falter, who does not rush their journey, honors the sacred rhythm of learning. Like a gardener who knows the pace of growth, he tends with care, not haste. He does not demand that the seed bloom before its season. For he knows that all who learn walk at different tempos of understanding, and wisdom comes not when summoned, but when welcomed.

Let this truth be written in the hearts of all who teach and all who guide: to teach is to serve. A teacher’s greatness lies not in how much he knows, but in how deeply he can feel the struggle of those who do not yet know. If you are to teach — your children, your students, your friends, or your world — first learn to listen. Remember the days when you, too, were lost, and let that memory soften your words. Do not tower above; kneel beside.

For in the end, the good teacher is not a beacon blazing from afar, but a hand that lights another’s candle. And when many candles are lit, the world itself begins to glow.