There were several times during my teaching years when I felt like quitting. Sometimes the discouragement came from difficult responses from parents; other times it came from the attitudes or behavior of students. Every so often, things would build to the point where I wondered whether I could keep going. In fact, if my fifth year of teaching had been my first, it probably would have been my last. Thankfully, my first year was filled with cooperative, respectful students, and my sixth year—which also became my final year in the classroom—was much better. In the end, I left teaching for financial reasons, not because I had lost heart.
I remember my seventh- and eighth-grade homeroom teacher, Mr. Terrell. I especially liked him. He noticed that I could play with the parallax between my left and right eyes, and he would frequently say, “Open that eye, Gary!” There were three Garys in our class, and one of them was often getting into trouble. At one point, Mr. Terrell told him, “Gary, if you do that again, your name is going to be mud.” It was not long before there were only two Garys left in the class.
One day each week, Mr. Terrell displayed the word “SIR” in capital letters at the front of the room. That meant any question or answer had to include the word “sir” in order to be considered correct. It was a simple classroom practice, but it has stayed with me all these years.
Recently, I saw a post on Instagram about a man who, as a young student, was asked by his teacher what he wanted to be when he grew up. He answered that he wanted to become a film director, and the class erupted in laughter. The teacher responded by saying, “If anyone can do that, he can.” That one statement inspired him, and he eventually became a film producer.
Years later, that film producer realized the impact his teacher’s words had made on his life and decided to contact him. He was only able to reach the teacher’s wife, so he asked if he could send a note for her to pass along. She explained that her husband was in the hospital with back problems. When she took the note to him, however, it turned out that he was actually hospitalized because of deep depression. He later told his former student that the note had saved his life. He had been feeling as though his teaching had never made a difference in anyone’s life, and that simple message gave him strength to go on.
Last Sunday, Pastor Jared mentioned someone he had tutored and encouraged many years ago. Recently, that former mentee contacted him to say that he is now a preacher and that Jared’s words had made a lasting difference in his life.
I have had similar experiences from my six years teaching junior high Bible and science at Westminster Christian Schools from 1979 to 1985. Over the years, I have reconnected with several former students whose words have deeply blessed me. They helped me see that the work I did during those years mattered more than I realized at the time.
My point is this: teachers, preachers, mentors, and small group leaders often have no idea how much impact they may be having on the lives of those who listen to them. Their words, encouragement, patience, and faithfulness may continue bearing fruit long after they have forgotten the moment. I want to encourage anyone who has influence over others to remember that what they are doing truly matters. There may be a whole web of people out there encouraging others today because, at some point, you encouraged them.
