It is worth while too to warn the teacher that undue severity in

Quintilian, the Roman master of rhetoric, once wrote: “It is worth while too to warn the teacher that undue severity in correcting faults is liable at times to discourage a boy’s mind from effort.” These words, drawn from his great work Institutio Oratoria, are not merely the guidance of a scholar but the wisdom of one who understood the delicate balance of shaping the young. He reminds us that though discipline is necessary, too much severity crushes rather than molds, extinguishes rather than kindles. A tender flame, if struck too harshly, is not strengthened but snuffed out.

The origin of this thought lies in Quintilian’s vision of education in the Roman world. At a time when teachers often employed harsh punishments to enforce obedience, he dared to suggest that gentleness and encouragement were better guides for growth. He knew that the mind of a child is like fertile soil: it must be tilled with care, watered with patience, and nourished with hope. If the soil is struck too hard, if stones are cast upon it, the seed of learning will not take root. Thus, his counsel to teachers was radical and timeless—let firmness be tempered with mercy.

History offers many examples that prove his words true. Consider the case of Thomas Edison. As a boy, his teacher dismissed him as “addled” and incapable of learning. Discouraged, the young Edison nearly lost faith in his own abilities. Yet his mother, refusing to let severity define him, became his guide and encourager. She nurtured his curiosity instead of crushing it, and from that encouragement sprang the genius who would one day bring light to the world. Had Edison remained under the yoke of harsh correction, his flame might have been smothered before it ever had the chance to shine.

The ancients themselves saw the difference between severity and encouragement. Socrates, though he questioned sharply, never mocked or crushed his students; instead, he drew out their thoughts as a midwife draws out life. His method, though rigorous, was rooted in respect for the mind of the learner. By contrast, those tyrants who sought to dominate through fear created not thinkers but slaves, not students but subjects. Fear may force obedience, but only respect can inspire greatness.

The lesson of Quintilian’s words is clear: to teach is to inspire, not to wound. Correction must be given, for without it the learner will not grow. But it must be measured, as the physician measures the dose of medicine—enough to heal, never so much as to poison. An unduly harsh word may silence a child for life, while a timely encouragement may awaken genius. Thus, the duty of the teacher is not merely to point out faults, but to guide the spirit toward effort, perseverance, and the joy of learning.

Practically, let us live this wisdom. Parents, when correcting children, remember that patience builds more than punishment. Teachers, when guiding students, choose words that lift rather than crush. Leaders, when shaping those who follow, give correction with dignity, not with contempt. And all of us, when advising others, must remember: the goal is not to show our superiority, but to help another rise.

Thus, Quintilian’s ancient counsel remains as urgent today as when it was written: “Undue severity discourages the mind from effort.” Let us teach with firmness, yes, but also with mercy. Let us correct faults, but with the gentleness that encourages further striving. For the true teacher is not one who terrifies his students into silence, but one who inspires them to rise, to think, to labor, and to believe in their own capacity for greatness.