I presented a seminar this weekend about work I have been doing for many years. It was about an ancient civilization that I had researched extensively. I studied their culture, archeology, and all I could about them. Often people will come up after such seminars to ask questions, but this time, as I was gathering my papers, a lady approached and said, “I am Emmaline Strange’s daughter.”

For a brief instant, I paused, then the recognition of the name flowed through me. I seldom heard her first name and called her Mrs. Strange, the greatest substitute teacher in the world.

When I was young, I was kind of a wild child and loved being away off on my own. Before I was even old enough to go to school, I would escape from the house and go exploring with my lamb and my dog, who were my best friends. We would find a bird nest or a pretty rock. Of course, there were always wild onions that were easy to find as the smell drifted across the breeze. If I was lucky, I might find a snake’s skin, which I had to carefully add to my special collection so my mother wouldn’t throw it out. My mother often worried about where I had gone, but I always returned home when I got hungry and the wild onions were all eaten.

My parents felt kindergarten was a waste of time. “We do not send our children to school to play,” my father said. So, I didn’t start school until I was old enough for first grade, and then I started a few days late. The principal ushered me to the room of a young teacher. As soon as I sat down at my desk, she asked me to recite the alphabet. I had no idea what the alphabet was. I could ride a horse bareback and identify many wild plants and animals, but I had no idea what she was talking about.

As a result, the teacher said, “I don’t have time to waste teaching a child that is dumb.” I was put at a desk in the corner. I didn’t mind too much because I was by myself, but the children joined in the name-calling, and the bullying was intense. More than once I got the paddle for fighting, when in reality, I was doing little more than defending myself.

That’s where Mrs. Strange came in. About halfway through the school year, one of the teachers had surgery and would be gone for a few months. Mrs. Strange became her semi-permanent substitute. She saw how the other teacher and the children treated me and quickly learned about my situation. She asked that I be transferred to her class.

She tried hard to teach me, but I often told her I was too stupid. She would have none of that, and would always say, “You can do anything and be anything you really want to be.” Eventually, with her help and encouragement, I began to believe it. As I learned to read, it opened whole new worlds to my curious mind. I took books with me as I herded cows, one thing I did a lot in the summer. I soon had read the whole of our family’s extensive library.

Over the years, Mrs. Strange’s words of encouragement stuck with me. I worked hard and became a top athlete and valedictorian. Mrs. Strange’s daughter even mentioned that and said her mother thought of me like a son. She said there was something fun the family was going to do on the night of my graduation, but Mrs. Strange came to my graduation instead to be there for me.

I had a pleasant visit with her daughter, and after she left, I continued to think of my wonderful teacher. I have had my share of failures, but I have had successes too. And each time I finished a degree, published a book, or received any honor, I often thought of Mrs. Strange.

My successes are very much the result of a kind little lady who kept telling a little boy he could be anything if he really tried.