“ Eternity” by Genie Nolan O’Hara       

        Henry B. Adams wrote “A teacher affects eternity; he can never tell where his influence stops.”  I have always found this to be a profound thought, something intangible and impalpable, an eternal, abstract puzzle along the lines of if a tree falls in the woods and there is no one there to hear it.   It dawns on me now, though, that this is actually a statement that is extremely tangible and quite palpable, and not at all puzzling.  It is a simple proclamation: teachers have a lasting effect, the end of which we will never know.

            It happens to me often.  Weekly, probably.  Daily, perhaps.  I hear a little voice that whispers “does that really need a comma?” or “why did you choose that word?” or “better find a more succinct way to say that” or “notice the power of that phrase.”  I hear it and I know its origin...it’s Mr. Hoover, reminding me of things he reminded me of 20 years ago.  Even more alarming is when the voice comes out of my own mouth, directed at one of my own students or one of my own children.  I can take it one step further because... yes, the voice sometimes comes out of the mouth of those children as well.  And there it is...the effect on eternity.

            A lifetime ago, I was the editor-in-chief of the Lasso.  I saw a picture recently, and it was me alright, writing a column entitled “From the Editor’s Desk” in which I espoused a lot of ideas about things I thought I knew a lot about.  I am sure I was making a lot of assumptions and I’m fairly certain I fervently believed what I wrote.  I can’t say that I would now agree with half of what I so vehemently defended at the time, but I can decisively say that the learning that accompanied those columns is indisputable.  I learned lessons that I use every day, lessons that I pass on to my students, lessons that will be passed on by those students as well.

            I learned the basics–do your research, cite your sources, be economical in your word choice, and so forth.  I learned the details–find a unique perspective, use your own voice, say what you mean.  But above all, I learned the finer points–appreciate a gorgeous use of language, listen to the way the words play off of one another, words have power of immeasurable proportions.  These lessons I will share, both purposefully and inadvertently, with many.  And again we have it...an effect for eternity.

            If you were a student of Mr. Hoover’s in the same time period as I was, there are things I know for sure that you know.  You watched and appreciated Cool Hand Luke.  You analyzed and re-analyzed Captain Ahab of Moby Dick fame, even though you swore you’d never get through that massive book.  (Admit it, you liked it, even though you were sure you wouldn’t.)  You remember when you had to literally cut and paste (none of this electronic stuff) the newspaper together with actual wax.  You’ve had that ink imbedded in the swirls of your fingerprints.  You’ve had a conversation with Mr. Hoover when he got that big idea and you had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.  You have been the recipient of a compliment on your work that you never forgot–he has always known how to let a student know when they’ve done something extraordinary.  This is the example he set that has helped me the most in life–the appreciation for that which is exceptional.

            As a teacher, it was clear that Mr. Hoover loved words.  He loved them in a way that made it impossible not to love them right along with him.  He loved to read them, he loved to write them, he loved to say them, but he especially loved it when it was his student who turned the perfect phrase or fished the right ones out of a novel.  How quickly a student raised her own standards for herself knowing the fervor with which they would be appreciated!

            It’s eternal, the effect of a teacher, and I know that to be true.  I am but one of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of students who learned from Mr. Hoover and already I have passed on pieces of his influence to the hundreds I have taught and to the three who matter most to me.  And they will pass it on, and so on and so on and so on.

            This past year each of my daughters won writing awards at their elementary school.  Thank you, Mr. Hoover.  And thank you in advance for the awards that their children and grandchildren will win as well.  If you ever stop to wonder where the time went, look up future generations of the O’Haras and ask them about Moby Dick...I’m pretty sure they’ll know.