I don't know anybody who said, 'I love that teacher, he or she

Hear the words of Neil deGrasse Tyson, the stargazer of our age, who declared: “I don’t know anybody who said, ‘I love that teacher, he or she gave a really good homework set, or ‘Boy, that was the best class I ever took because those exams were awesome.’ That’s not what people want to talk about. It’s not what influences people in one profession or another.” These words, though wrapped in humor, carry the weight of deep wisdom, for they reveal the true essence of teaching and the eternal mark it leaves on the human soul.

The meaning is plain yet profound: the teacher is not remembered for the burdens they assign, but for the sparks they ignite. A stack of homework may train the mind for a season, an exam may test the memory for an hour, but what endures beyond time is the light of inspiration, the fire of curiosity, and the courage to dream. The ancients knew this well—for the greatest mentors were remembered not for their drills and punishments, but for the way they awakened something immortal in their students.

Consider the tale of Aristotle and his most famous pupil, Alexander the Great. Do we recall Aristotle for the lists of tasks he gave, the rote memorization he demanded? No. We remember that he taught Alexander to see the world as a place of wonder, to understand philosophy, science, and the art of governance. That influence burned brighter than any parchment or assignment. From the teacher’s vision arose the ambition of the student, who carried Aristotle’s lessons into every corner of the known world.

So too in our age, when a young mind speaks with fondness of a teacher, it is not the exam they recall, but the moment when they felt seen, when their curiosity was honored, when the walls of the classroom dissolved and they glimpsed a world beyond. The best teachers are not taskmasters, but guides, storytellers, mentors—those who lift the veil and reveal life’s mysteries. Tyson reminds us that it is this power, not paperwork, that shapes destinies.

And yet, the world often forgets this truth. Many schools measure success by grades and scores, reducing learning to a contest of numbers. But the wise know that a student may forget formulas, yet never forget the teacher who first told them they were capable of greatness. A soul may lose the details of a test, but carry forever the encouragement that gave them strength to walk their chosen path. True influence is not measured in marks, but in the shaping of lives.

The lesson, then, is clear: if you are a teacher, strive not merely to instruct, but to inspire. Do not measure your worth only by the rigor of your exams or the volume of your homework, but by the light in the eyes of those you guide. And if you are a student, remember that your true treasures are not the grades on your papers, but the wisdom and courage you gather from those who believed in you.

Practical action follows easily. If you teach, speak with passion. Share stories. Show why the lesson matters, not only how it is done. Encourage questions, nurture wonder, and make your classroom a place where the heart learns as much as the mind. If you learn, seek not only to pass your exams, but to find the flame in the lesson that might guide your future. Carry forward what moves your spirit, for that is the true inheritance of education.

Thus, let Tyson’s words echo in your heart: No one remembers the homework—they remember the teacher who lit the flame. Be that flame for others, or cherish it in yourself. For in the end, the greatest mark of education is not the paper left behind, but the lives transformed by the courage to dream and the strength to pursue it.