The whole purpose of education is to turn mirrors into windows.

“The whole purpose of education is to turn mirrors into windows.” Thus spoke Sydney J. Harris, a man of insight who understood the sacred art of learning — not as the piling up of facts, but as the awakening of vision. In his words lies a truth as radiant as dawn: that education should not trap us in self-reflection, but should open our eyes to the vast world beyond. The mirror symbolizes the self — our limited experiences, our personal fears, our narrow understanding of reality. The window, by contrast, is the soul’s opening to the infinite — the view that stretches beyond the boundaries of the ego, revealing the lives, struggles, and dreams of others. The goal of education, then, is not merely to make us aware of who we are, but to help us see what lies beyond ourselves.

In every age, the uneducated mind gazes endlessly into the mirror. It studies itself, it admires itself, or it despairs of itself — but it rarely looks outward. Such a person lives trapped in the chamber of self, mistaking reflection for truth. But when education takes root, that mirror is transformed into a window, and the mind begins to perceive the wider tapestry of life. The scholar who once asked, “What am I?” begins to ask, “What is the world? What is my place in it? What can I give to it?” In this transformation lies the true power of learning — the shift from self-centeredness to awareness, from isolation to connection, from blindness to vision.

Harris, who lived in the twentieth century, was both a journalist and a philosopher, one who believed that knowledge must serve to liberate the human spirit. He wrote in a time when education was often seen as a ladder to personal advancement — a tool for success, not for understanding. Against this tide, he proclaimed that its real purpose was illumination, not ambition. “Turning mirrors into windows” was his way of warning that education must not become self-serving. A mind that learns only for itself grows proud and stagnant. But a mind that learns to see through the window of others’ experiences — through history, through art, through science, through empathy — becomes wise, humble, and alive.

This wisdom finds echo in the teachings of the ancients. Consider Siddhartha Gautama, the Buddha, who was once a prince surrounded by mirrors — luxury, pleasure, and self-concern. It was only when he left the palace and looked through the window of the world — seeing sickness, old age, and death — that he began to understand the nature of life. His enlightenment was not born of comfort or reflection, but of vision — the courage to look beyond his own experience. So too, the purpose of education is to awaken such vision within us: to see the world as it is, to feel the lives of others, and to act with compassion and understanding.

Or think of Galileo Galilei, who, in another way, turned mirrors into windows. In his time, the world was content to gaze at its own reflection, believing itself the center of the universe. Galileo, with his telescope, shattered that illusion. He turned the mirror of human pride into a window to the heavens, revealing that we are but one planet among many. His discovery did more than change astronomy — it changed humanity’s sense of itself. Through courage and curiosity, he fulfilled the truest calling of education: to expand the window of our understanding until we glimpse the infinite.

The mirror is comforting, for it reflects what we already know; the window is challenging, for it shows us what we do not. To learn is to face the unknown, to risk the discomfort of seeing a larger truth. That is why true education is not an easy path. It breaks illusions. It humbles the self. It demands that we step beyond our certainties and listen to the voices of others — the poets, the thinkers, the oppressed, the explorers. It transforms the heart by showing that the world is not just ours — it belongs to all.

So, my listeners, remember this teaching of Sydney J. Harris: seek not education that flatters you, but education that frees you. When you read, look not for your own reflection, but for the truth of others. When you speak, do so not to prove your knowledge, but to share in understanding. Let your learning be a window, wide and clear, through which the light of the world may enter. For the more we see beyond ourselves, the more fully human we become.

In the end, the one who turns his mirror into a window discovers a miracle: that the world, once distant and strange, begins to reflect him anew — not as he was, but as he was meant to be. Thus, education becomes not a mirror of self, but a bridge between souls; not a wall, but a window to the infinite.