I took Spanish in high school and I didn't do too well in it. My

Hear the words of Tyler Posey, spoken with the honesty of one who remembers the wounds of youth: “I took Spanish in high school and I didn’t do too well in it. My Spanish teacher told me not to go on with Spanish anymore, so I was discouraged a little bit.” At first glance, these words seem small, the confession of a student disheartened. But look deeper, and you will see the echo of a universal truth: that the judgments of others, especially in youth, can either nourish the soul or wither it, and that discouragement, when received from those we look to for guidance, carries the weight of stone upon tender shoulders.

The figure of the teacher is sacred, entrusted with the power to awaken or to smother. In Posey’s words we hear the sorrow of a missed encouragement, of a door closed when it might have been opened wider. The young man, struggling, might have found in that moment a spark of faith, the gentle push that says, “Continue — you will grow.” Instead, he received words that told him to stop, to abandon the journey. Thus the seed of discouragement was planted. This story is not Posey’s alone, but the story of countless souls who have been told, “You are not enough,” and believed it, if only for a time.

Consider the tale of Albert Einstein, who as a boy was slow to speak and clumsy with words. His teachers called him dull, unfit for learning, and predicted little for his future. Yet the fire within him refused to be extinguished, and from that flame arose the mind that reshaped the very fabric of the universe. What if he had listened fully to those who discouraged him? What light would have been lost? Here lies the lesson: the words of authority are powerful, but they are not destiny.

The meaning of Posey’s words is not to condemn the teacher, but to reveal the fragility of the young spirit, and the need for wisdom in guiding it. A stumble in learning is not a sign of failure, but of growth. To struggle with language, to falter in grammar or memory, is not shameful; it is the very path by which mastery is reached. Every skill is built upon mistakes, every triumph upon failed attempts. The true teacher is not the one who says, “Do not go further,” but the one who whispers, “Fall again, rise again, and walk on.”

And yet, we must also see Posey’s strength: though he was discouraged, he was not destroyed. He carried the memory, yes, but he also carried on, finding his voice not in Spanish but in acting, in art, in the craft that would define him. This too is wisdom: that even when doors are shut by others, the soul can find new paths, new gifts to unfold. The discouragement of one path can be the redirection toward another. What matters is not the judgment of one teacher, but the resilience of the heart.

The lesson, children of tomorrow, is this: do not allow the words of discouragement to define you. Hear them, weigh them, but do not let them extinguish your flame. If you love a thing, pursue it, even if others say you are not fit. And if you discover that the path was not yours, let the attempt itself be honored, for every struggle teaches you more of who you are. Let not the voice of discouragement become the master of your destiny.

Therefore, let these practical actions be taken: When you hear discouraging words, pause before you accept them as truth. Seek also the voices of those who believe in you, who remind you of your strength. If you are in the place of the teacher, speak with care, for your words can build or break. And above all, remember that the true measure of worth is not in early success, but in perseverance. Even if you falter, even if you stumble, rise again — for greatness is not born of ease, but of endurance.

So remember Posey’s words: “I was discouraged a little bit.” In them we hear both the wound and the lesson. May you, when faced with discouragement, not be turned aside, but strengthened in resolve. For in overcoming the voice that says, “You cannot,” you prove that you always could.