In the Western lands, I once saw a schoolteacher who was sour-faced, bitter in speech, ill-tempered, and prone to tormenting others. He was miserly, lacking piety, and his very presence ruined the happiness of Muslims. His recitation of the Qur'an darkened the hearts of those who heard it. A group of pure-hearted boys and innocent girls were at the mercy of his cruelty; they dared neither to smile nor to speak. At times, he would slap one child on the face, leaving a mark on their tender cheeks, and at others, he would twist the delicate arms of another.
In short, I heard that his vile nature eventually became known, and he was punished and driven out. His school was given to a kind, pious man—a righteous, patient soul who spoke only when necessary and never uttered a word that could harm another.
The children, no longer intimidated by the previous teacher, saw the gentle nature of the new one and turned mischievous. Relying on his patience, they abandoned their studies. Most of the time, they gathered to play, breaking their slates on each other’s heads rather than writing on them.
When a teacher causes no pain or fear,
Children play games and run amok, carefree.
Two weeks later, I happened to pass by the school again. I saw the first teacher reinstated, his spirits lifted as he had been returned to his place. I felt a pang of disappointment and muttered, "Why have they reinstated the devil to teach angels?" A wise old man nearby heard me and remarked:
"A king once sent his son to school,
And laid a silver slate upon his lap.
On the slate, inscribed in gold, it read:
'A teacher's harshness is better than a father's love.'"
