Professor Fowler sat in his home, recently retired, alone with his thoughts, and none of them were kind.
A teacher who had dedicated his entire life to shaping young minds, he now sat convinced he had failed.
Looking back over decades in the classroom, all he could see was the void – the faces forgotten, the lessons lost to time.
He spoke the words aloud, his voice thick with regret:
“I walked from class to class ... teaching unhearing ears ... unwilling heads ... I moved nobody, I motivated nobody, I left no direct imprint on anybody.”
His retirement had not come by choice. It had been forced upon him by an institution eager to make room for the next generation. And now, with his life’s work behind him, he sat in the darkness of his own doubt, convinced his efforts had vanished like chalk dust after the final bell.
This story, by the way, is from an old episode of “The Twilight Zone,” titled “Changing of the Guard.”
And yet, as I think about Professor Fowler, my mind drifts to teachers today – living in the modern world, dealing with pressures he could scarcely have imagined.
The teacher today faces crowded classrooms, shrinking budgets, endless paperwork, shifting standards, the strain of technology and the silent burden of wondering if any of it is making a difference.
I wonder if, after long and weary days, teachers ever question whether the hours spent planning lessons, listening to struggling students, breaking up conflicts, inspiring curiosity, if any of it will truly matter.
I wonder if they ask themselves whether their voice will linger, whether their encouragement will echo, whether their belief in a student who didn’t yet believe in themselves will survive the tests of time.
It’s easy in the haze of exhaustion and bureaucracy to feel invisible.
To feel, like Fowler once did, that no imprint has been left behind.
But here’s the part of Fowler’s story that every teacher today needs to hear.
That night, sitting in his despair, something remarkable happened. One by one, the faces of his former students appeared – visitors not of the body, but of the heart.
They came to tell him what he could not see: that he had changed lives.
That a word of encouragement had saved one from despair. That a lesson on courage had inspired another to give their life to a cause greater than themselves. That a belief in decency and kindness had taken root and flourished long after the final grades were given.
They stood before him, not as students he once taught, but as proof that his life had mattered far more than he ever realized.
It’s more than just an old television episode – it’s a truth lived out in classrooms daily.
Some days it feels like you’re shouting into the wind, wondering if you are reaching anyone, if any of it matters.
It does.
Somewhere right now, there is a student who carries a seed you planted – something you said and taught when they needed it most.
And that seed will grow, often quietly, invisibly, sometimes over decades.
You may never see it bloom. But it blooms nonetheless. Every encouraging word. Every ounce of patience. Every lesson, even the ones you think fell flat. Every moment you choose to believe in someone who didn’t yet believe in themselves, these things matter more than you will ever know.
You are building lives. You are shaping futures. You are winning victories for humanity that no history book will ever fully record.
So, in this week where we celebrate teachers, I want you to know:
You are not invisible. You are not forgotten. You are not wasting your time.
You are changing the world, one student at a time. And for that – for everything – you have my deepest thanks.
I, like so many others, am grateful – forever grateful.
Each of us carries something you gave us: a word, a hope, a strength, a belief.
I want to thank you – for believing in us, for guiding us, for helping to shape who we became.
In the end, teachers have lived a very good life, a very full life, a very rich life.
And I hope, like Professor Fowler came to realize, you wouldn’t have it any other way.
• Toby Moore is a Shaw Local News Network columnist, star of the Emmy-nominated film “A Separate Peace,” and CEO of CubeStream Inc. He can be reached at feedback@shawmedia.com.