What made me what I am? It was the same source that made Western Civilization what it is—the man who spent three years teaching us. And then he died, terribly. Some of my students discovered this source, and went on to alleviate their lives wonderfully, though as a public school teacher I’d never mention this source directly.
One girl I tutored went on to rise above the course she’d been on with a child out of wedlock. She married, and though things were not perfect, she had more wonderful children. I came to admire her as only a teacher comes to admire and love his students.
Another student missed what moved me. I had him in class, and he was so impressed he asked me where I went to college. He was, I believe, Muslim, and had assimilated so well I took him for a student no different from the others. I met him years later, and when I asked him, he said he was so disappointed in St. John’s University. I was greatly saddened. He had missed the source.