Teachers shape lives in ways they may never fully realize. They plant seeds of curiosity, confidence and resilience that grow long after their students leave the classroom. Some seeds take root unexpectedly, sprouting into dreams, careers and lifelong callings. For me, that guiding force was my second-grade teacher, Mrs. Ethalene Harbison.
Even at a young age, I realized she saw something in me. She encouraged me to dream big, embrace learning and believe in my potential. One of the greatest gifts she ever gave me was recognizing my love for storytelling before I understood it myself. She encouraged me to attend the Young Authors Conference — not once, but twice — an experience that planted the first seeds of my passion for writing. Sitting in a room filled with other young storytellers, I felt a spark of possibility, a glimpse of what could be. I didn’t know then that I would become a published author one day, but Mrs. Harbison did.
Years passed, and life led me in directions neither of us could have imagined. I joined the Army, and while home on leave one day, I ran into Mrs. Harbison at a local grocery store. We exchanged warm greetings, and she looked at me with joy and surprise. “I never thought you’d join the Army,” she admitted with a chuckle, still the same kind and perceptive teacher I remembered. That moment stuck with me — not because she doubted me, but because it reminded me how life often unfolds in ways we least expect.
After moving back home, I knew I had to find her again. This time, I was the one who wanted to surprise her. I knocked on her door, my young son standing beside me, eager to meet the woman who had played a pivotal role in shaping his mother’s path. True to her nature, Mrs. Harbison immediately stepped back into her teacher role, sharing her prized classroom possessions — geodes, lava rocks and fossils — with my son, just as she had done with me so many years before. Watching her light up while explaining the wonders of science reminded me that, for great teachers, the love of learning never fades.
When I completed my doctorate, I returned for another visit, bringing my other son along. Knowing he was fascinated by sharks, I coordinated with Mrs. Harbison ahead of time, much to his delight. She shared her collection of fossils and geodes again and then pulled out her prized shark teeth collection just for him. That day, she even led him through some fun science experiments, turning our visit into an impromptu classroom lesson filled with discovery and wonder.
After receiving the printed copies of my books, I knew I had to revisit Mrs. Harbison. I had the honor of placing the stories she had helped inspire in her hands. Without her encouragement all those years ago — without her belief in my potential — I wouldn’t be the author, entrepreneur or researcher I am today.
Teachers often don’t see the final chapters of the stories they help write. They pour into their students without expecting to know where that guidance will lead. But Mrs. Harbison got to see mine, and I got to tell her that because of her, I became a lifelong learner, a storyteller and someone who dares to dream big.
The most incredible legacy a teacher can leave is not in lesson plans or test scores but in the lives they shape. Mrs. Harbison changed mine, and I will be forever grateful for that.