I loved almost everything about being a teacher, but I was an

The words of Dan Simmons—“I loved almost everything about being a teacher, but I was an unusual teacher”—speak with the quiet fire of one who has lived in service to others, yet walked that path in a way entirely his own. In them we hear both affection and defiance: affection for the noble calling of teaching, and defiance against the rigid molds that often confine it. Simmons reminds us that to guide the young is to love them, but also to bring the fullness of one’s individuality into the classroom. For the best teachers are not copies, but originals.

The origin of such a statement lies in the very nature of the teaching vocation. From the days of the ancients, teachers have stood as both guardians and rebels. Socrates, perhaps the most unusual teacher of all, wandered the streets of Athens asking questions rather than giving answers, frustrating the authorities but igniting the flame of philosophy. Likewise, Confucius instructed through conversation, proverbs, and living example, far from the rote lessons of many. In every generation, it is the unusual teachers—those who dared to step beyond the expected—that left the deepest marks upon their students’ souls.

Consider the story of Anne Sullivan, the teacher of Helen Keller. By the standards of her day, she was anything but ordinary. Her methods were unconventional, her patience extraordinary, her passion unyielding. She taught not through strict discipline alone but through creativity, persistence, and the fire of love. Because she was unusual, a girl thought forever locked in silence became a voice for millions. Sullivan’s life is proof that greatness in teaching often flows not from conformity, but from originality and courage.

The emotional strength of Simmons’s words lies in the mingling of joy and difference. He loved “almost everything” about the life of a teacher: the connection with students, the shaping of minds, the exchange of energy between mentor and pupil. Yet he admits to being “unusual,” as though to remind us that love of a calling does not require blind conformity to its traditions. True love of teaching demands authenticity, for only when a teacher brings their whole self—their quirks, their passions, their unique vision—does the classroom become a place alive with possibility.

There is also a heroic element here, for to be an unusual teacher is often to face criticism. Institutions prefer order, predictability, and uniformity. Yet history remembers not those who conformed, but those who transformed. The students who sit under such teachers may resist at first, even mock them, but years later they often recall those unusual methods as the spark that awakened them. Thus, Simmons’s words are both confession and celebration: he did not fit the mold, yet in that very strangeness lay his strength.

The lesson for us is clear: whether we are teachers by profession or simply teachers by circumstance—in families, workplaces, or communities—we must not fear to be unusual. We must love the act of guiding others, but do so in ways true to our own spirit. For the world does not need identical voices repeating the same lessons; it needs diverse voices that speak from the depths of lived experience. To teach authentically is to teach with power.

What, then, shall we do? Let us honor the teachers who dared to be different, remembering them not only for their lessons but for their individuality. Let us cultivate in ourselves the courage to guide others in ways that reflect our true selves, not merely tradition. Let us encourage creativity in education, so that future teachers are not shackled by uniformity but freed to inspire. And let us remember that love—“loving almost everything”—is the root of all great teaching, but it is love expressed through uniqueness that leaves a lasting mark.

Thus, Dan Simmons’s words, spoken with humility, become a timeless truth: the greatest teachers are rarely ordinary. They are unusual, sometimes difficult, sometimes strange, but always memorable. And it is precisely their unusualness, coupled with their love, that makes their teaching endure like fire passed from torch to torch, illuminating the generations that follow.