I have an education degree from the University of Minnesota, and

The words of Loni Anderson come with a lightness touched by honesty: “I have an education degree from the University of Minnesota, and I was a teacher for about a minute.” In this reflection, she speaks with humor, yet beneath the jest lies a truth about the winding path of life. For many walk into one calling only to find themselves led toward another, and in that turning, there is no shame but only discovery. Anderson’s words reveal the fleeting taste of teaching that preceded her destiny in performance and acting, a momentary brush with one profession before the embrace of another.

Her remark reminds us that the road of life is not always straight. Education prepared her for one path, and yet her heart was drawn elsewhere. How many among us have trained in one craft, only to discover that our soul thrives in another? This is not failure but growth, not betrayal but revelation. For the degree, the teaching, even for a “minute,” were not wasted—they were stepping stones, giving her confidence, discipline, and the ability to stand before others, all of which would later serve her in the world of art and stage.

In truth, the ancients themselves knew such shifts of purpose. Consider Cicero, the Roman orator, who was first trained as a lawyer and then became the voice of his republic. His education in law was brief compared to his longer career in politics, yet the skills he acquired in that “minute” of law sharpened his tongue for the Senate. Or think of Saint Ignatius of Loyola, once a soldier, who after a wound abandoned the sword and instead became the founder of the Jesuits. His training as a warrior was short-lived, but its discipline and courage lived on in his spiritual mission. So too with Anderson, whose short-lived experience in teaching lent strength to her true calling.

Her playful remark also honors the noble difficulty of teaching. To say she was a teacher “for about a minute” is to acknowledge, perhaps with a smile, that the profession requires endurance of the spirit. Teaching is not merely a job but a vocation, demanding patience, passion, and unshakable commitment. Anderson discovered quickly that her heart was meant for another path. Better to leave quickly, in honesty, than to remain without passion. In this, her humor hides a respect—for to teach well, one must give one’s whole self.

The deeper meaning of her words reminds us that life is not wasted when we change direction. A person may begin in one field, only to discover another where their talents shine brighter. The first path is not an error but a preparation. Every step, even those that seem short or unfinished, contributes to the shaping of the soul. Anderson’s brief teaching experience did not make her a career educator, but it formed part of the foundation upon which her artistry and confidence were built.

The lesson is clear: do not fear beginnings that do not last. Do not scorn the ventures that end quickly, for they too serve their purpose. Sometimes it takes only a “minute” in one field to learn a truth that guides the rest of your life. Be willing to step boldly into new callings, even if they lead you elsewhere. For the value is not always in permanence, but in discovery.

Therefore, O listener, remember Loni Anderson’s words: a path may be brief, but it is never in vain. Whether you remain a lifetime in one calling or only a moment, each experience grants wisdom. Embrace your journey with courage, knowing that every step prepares you for the next. For even a single minute of teaching—or of any noble endeavor—can shape a lifetime of strength, insight, and growth.