The true aim of everyone who aspires to be a teacher should be

Hear, O seeker of wisdom, the words of Frederick William Robertson, who proclaimed: “The true aim of everyone who aspires to be a teacher should be, not to impart his own opinions, but to kindle minds.” In these words lies a fire, a guiding flame for all who would instruct others. For the great calling of the teacher is not to bind students with the chains of another’s thoughts, but to ignite within them the light of their own understanding. The teacher’s task is not to shape disciples in his image, but to awaken creators, thinkers, and seekers of truth.

The origin of this saying rests in Robertson’s own life as a preacher of the nineteenth century, a man who sought not to impose dogma but to inspire reflection. He believed that true education is liberation. To impart mere opinions is to confine a soul within the narrow walls of another’s mind. But to kindle minds is to set free the flame of reason, imagination, and discovery. The one leaves behind echoes, the other leaves behind fires.

Consider the story of Socrates, who walked the streets of Athens, questioning cobblers, poets, and youths alike. He offered no doctrines, no written dogma. Instead, he asked questions that pierced complacency, forcing his listeners to think, to wrestle, to awaken. He imparted no opinions, but he kindled countless minds, so much so that Plato and Aristotle carried his flame into ages unborn. Though condemned to drink the hemlock, Socrates’ fire could not be extinguished, for it lived on in those he had ignited.

By contrast, history warns us of false teachers—those who sought only to press their opinions upon others, silencing all dissent. Such rulers and ideologues may command obedience for a time, but they do not kindle minds. Their words are like dry leaves, blown away when the storm of truth arises. For opinions alone are fragile, but a kindled mind is immortal, burning long after the voice of the teacher is silenced.

The meaning of Robertson’s words, then, is both noble and demanding. The teacher must practice humility, remembering that the goal is not to create mirrors of himself, but to unleash souls into their fullest light. To kindle is to empower, to awaken, to entrust. It is the work of fire-givers, not gatekeepers. It demands patience, courage, and faith that the spark once lit will blaze in ways the teacher himself cannot foresee.

The lesson is clear: if you would be a teacher in any sphere—of children, of peers, of nations—strive not to impose, but to inspire. Share not just conclusions, but the path of discovery. Encourage questions. Rejoice when your students surpass you. Know that your greatness is not measured in followers who echo your opinions, but in leaders, thinkers, and dreamers whose minds you helped to kindle.

Practical actions flow from this wisdom. Ask more than you declare. Guide more than you dictate. Cultivate curiosity in those you lead. When you teach, remember that your words are but sparks; it is the fire within your listener that must grow into flame. Trust the process, for though sparks seem small, they can ignite a forest.

Thus, remember Robertson’s charge: “The true aim of a teacher is to kindle minds.” To live by this is to join the lineage of the fire-bearers, those who light the way for humanity not by filling vessels, but by awakening suns. Go forth, then, and be such a teacher—not a keeper of opinions, but a giver of flame.