Standing on the Shoulders of Those Who Believed in Us

There is an old saying that we stand on the shoulders of giants. I have discovered another truth along life’s journey: we all stand on the shoulders of someone who believed in us.

As I look back over seventy-six years, I realize that many of the people who shaped my life never became famous. They never wrote books, held public office, or appeared on television. They simply stood in front of a classroom each day and believed in children.

I started school before kindergarten existed. My first classroom was at Union School, a little two-room country school. One room held grades one through six; the other held seventh and eighth grades. It was a simple place, but it was where a lifelong love of learning began.

My first-grade teacher, Mrs. Dorothy Smith, greeted each of us every morning with a hug. In today’s world, that might seem unusual, but for a little boy whose home life was often difficult, those hugs meant more than she could have imagined. She somehow managed to teach six grades in one classroom while making every child feel important. She praised our work, encouraged our efforts, and never made us feel incapable of learning.

My older brothers and sisters had already taught me the alphabet before I entered school, so I was able to help the other first graders. Looking back, I believe Mrs. Smith planted two seeds in my heart that have never stopped growing: a love of learning and a desire to help others learn.

In the sixth grade I met my first male teacher, Mr. L. C. Ingram. Although I loved and respected my father, we did not share many interests. Mr. Ingram became another positive male influence in my life. He encouraged each student individually and had a remarkable gift for making us feel heard, appreciated, and capable. Every child mattered to him.

Junior high brought Mrs. Ann Tucker into my life. Every morning we began the day with Scripture reading, prayer, and the pledges of allegiance. She trusted me to read the Bible to the class, something that gave me confidence long before I ever stood behind a pulpit.

Mrs. Tucker made history come alive. Dates became stories, and stories became lessons about people. She was energetic, humorous, and unforgettable. She taught me that education was more than memorizing facts—it was learning to understand people.

When my father died, my world changed overnight. During the visitation, Coach Gene Bassett came to our home. I have never forgotten what he said.

He told me life would be different, but that I could still make a difference. Having lost his own father, he understood the road that lay ahead of me. His words gave hope to a fourteen-year-old boy whose future suddenly seemed uncertain. Sometimes a teacher’s greatest lesson isn’t taught in a classroom.

In high school, Mrs. May Ruth Ishee taught English and Literature and coached our academic quiz team. She expected us to think, write, and communicate clearly. One day she assigned me a report on Pilgrim’s Progress. After I presented it in class, she asked me to give the presentation at her United Methodist church.

It was the first time I had ever spoken in a church outside my own Free Will Baptist tradition. Neither of us could have imagined that years later I would become a United Methodist pastor. Looking back now, I wonder if God was already opening doors I could not yet see.

Mrs. Ishee also taught us how to write essays. Because of her high standards, freshman English in college was far less intimidating than it might have been.

Then there was Mrs. Sullivan, my speech teacher. Knowing I planned to enter the ministry, she worked tirelessly on my diction, organization, posture, and presentation. She even had me walk around the room with a book balanced on my head while carefully pronouncing words correctly. At the time it seemed almost comical. Today I smile because she was preparing me to stand before congregations with confidence and clarity.

Looking back, I realize that every one of these teachers saw something in me before I fully saw it in myself. They challenged me to think, to ask questions, to research, to communicate, and to believe that I could make a contribution.

If I have spent my life teaching, preaching, writing, and encouraging others, it is because someone first encouraged me.

We often measure teachers by test scores or academic achievements. I measure mine by something much deeper. They helped shape a frightened little country boy into a lifelong learner.

I still love to ask questions. I still love to read. I still love to research. I still love to tell stories that help people think.

Those gifts did not begin with me.

They began with teachers who believed in one little boy.

Perhaps that’s the greatest lesson of all. You never know whose future you’re shaping by offering a kind word, believing in a struggling child, or simply giving someone a hug on the first day of school.

We all stand on the shoulders of someone who believed in us.