Musonius Rufus, Fragments 48

Rufus used to say, "If you have time to waste praising me, I am conscious that what I say is worth nothing." 

 

So far from applause on our part, he spoke in such a way that each of us sitting there felt that someone had gone to him and told him our faults, so accurately he touched upon our true characters, so effectively he placed each one's faults before his eyes.

 

I long felt uncomfortable with the amount of showmanship I saw in education, and I assumed that this was due only to my own stuffiness. Yes, there have been many times when I was foolishly being dour, and yet it took me a while to also see that some people were really just interested in appearing impressive. 

 

A preoccupation with heaping praises and basking in the spotlight will make the admirer ingratiating, and the admired conceited. It begins with a fawning introduction, and ends with rapturous applause, regardless of the quality of what happens in the middle. There is some confusion about the distinction between what is enlightening and what is entertaining. 

 

If I look back carefully, I recall that the times I have been most moved by a speaker have almost always ended in my silence, not in my cheering. I may not, in fact, even be “feeling good” about myself at all, the goal of so much processed pablum, but rather feeling deeply self-conscious of my own urgent need to make myself better. 

 

The thrill of the impassioned crowd fades quickly, while the power of a soul-wrenching insight sticks to the ribs. 

 

Yes, I am probably sounding like a curmudgeon again, but I find that the best teaching will not stroke my ego at all, but rather poke holes in it. I need to be broken down before I can be built back up.