Many of you are familiar with the movie “October
Sky.” It happens to be one of my favorites of all time.
This poignant video traces the life of
Homer Hickam, a West Virginia teen, who challenged his region’s “expectational”
barriers. You see, Homer, contrary to most of his peers, developed an intense
and life-long interest in science. (Most of his classmates would go on to work
in the local coal mines, but his sights were, literally, fixed on the heavens.)
For Homer and three of his friends found
themselves inspired by the launch of the Russian Sputnik satellite. It was the
age of Werner Von Braun and the space race, and these developments weren’t
casually passing them by.
I cannot but watch the end of “October
Sky” without weeping. Why, it was only last night, and I found Jean looking at
me in abject wonder. “Are you crying?” And I blubbered out, “Well, yes I am.”
You see, the movie concludes with a few
brief segments of historical film footage. We see Homer and the other boys
busily occupied with their “toy” rockets; some of which eventually reached six
miles into the atmosphere.
But
the scene which always elicits my tears is the ten second segment of Miss
Riley, Homer’s science teacher.
Miss Riley was a mentor; par excellance.
She inspired the boys to believe they could be something; that their dreams
could sail as high as Sputnik. That precious teacher was young then, and the
film footage enshrines her in that elucive category; Forever Young.
For though Homer and his friends went on
to win The National Science Award, and each graduated from college, and though
our boy-hero eventually landed a job at NASA, training astronauts, Miss Riley’s
life took an entirely different turn. She never left that rural community in West Virginia, and she departed this earth far too soon.
Miss Riley died of Parkinson's Disease at the age of 31. Yet, in her time, she was a mentor among mentors. For this humble little teacher embraced her role, as she would a lover. It is reported that in the waning days of her life that her students regularly carried her into the classroom
... on a stretcher!
Miss Riley has become a mentor to me. For even in death, she lives, and inspires me to impact the lives of the next generation.
Miss Riley died of Parkinson's Disease at the age of 31. Yet, in her time, she was a mentor among mentors. For this humble little teacher embraced her role, as she would a lover. It is reported that in the waning days of her life that her students regularly carried her into the classroom
... on a stretcher!
Miss Riley has become a mentor to me. For even in death, she lives, and inspires me to impact the lives of the next generation.
By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "Musings"
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