LIVING MESSAGES

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I once emailed a former university student of mine, after I noticed a somewhat dubious post on social media relating to her supposed impact, or the lack thereof on her pupils.

"I can relate, Doris. Though I have counseled thousands, taught hundreds, and mentored dozens, there have been times when I wondered if I had achieved anything at all.

"Admittedly, there have been those who have let me down altogether, who are mediocre, and are content to remain stuck. However, with the benefit of time, the verbal 'thank you's' and written letters, and the change which has been obvious in the maturing lives of those whom I have impacted has convinced me that, 'well, yes, you have made a difference.'"

I love an adage I once saw at a graduation exercise. 

"My students are living messages to a time that I will never see." 

There is an excellent old Twilight Zone episode in which an aging, retired college professor muses about this same topic; whether his life ever meant all that much to anyone in the scheme of things.

However, somehow, in a way that only happens on television, or in movies, (or in the seat of a proverbial time machine), Professor Jerguson finds himself in that same old classroom once again.

He stands at the front now looking over the same students who populated that first class which he ever taught at Willoughby Men's College. 

Now, one rather handsome young lad stands, and speaks.

"Dr. Jerguson, you remember me? I'm Ralph Simms. I died in one of the multitude of trenches that characterized the War to End All Wars. You were on my mind when I enlisted in the Army. I remembered how you advocated patriotism and our duty to our country. One of my last conscious thoughts, the day I died, was of you."

Now, another sandy-haired fellow stands up.

"You must remember me, professor. I'm Leo Patterson. I realize I didn't make very good grades. But honestly, you taught me more from your words, and demeanor, than I ever learned from your assignments. I went on to pastor a church. Oh, it wasn't a very large church, but the love of God radiated in the lives of my parishioners. I often alluded to you, as I stood in the pulpit of that little sanctuary; just how much you meant to me, and the qualities which you instilled in me!"

And then, another former student stands, one whose features seem so familiar to the old professor.

"Hello Dr. J. I know you remember me. I'm Jimmy Ryan. I was voted 'The Most Likely to Succeed.' Well, I like to think I did. I didn't exactly make a name for myself. But I did what I felt called to do; what I continue to do to this day. You see, I am a teacher like you. I work in an obscure little Indian school on a reservation out west. I have often encouraged, and challenged my students with the concepts and adages which you lent to us so long ago. Not one of us in this classroom today have forgotten you, nor the lessons you taught us. We never can. We never will!"

Doris, you are a giant upon whose shoulders the next generation stands. You are a link in an unbroken chain which stretches backwards into infinity.

One of my counseling interns once spontaneously shared the following words to me... 

"Dr. Bill, I don't want to disappoint you. I'll go for you when you can't go. I'll speak for you when you can no longer speak. I'll reach, teach and keep people in your name when you have gone on to your reward." 

I believe your students are in so many ways, shapes, and forms saying the same thing to you, my dear former student, and friend. Hang in there, Doris, and stay encouraged. 

The end is not yet distinguishable from the beginning. The tale has not yet been told. The truth has not yet been found out. Days that have not yet been lived out, and seasons which have not yet dawned will make everything manifest, and may offer the kind of assurance which is sorely lacking at this present moment in time.

by Bill McDonald, PhD