I was born in a small town. My parents, my father was a teacher.

Milos Forman, the great storyteller of cinema, once said with simplicity: “I was born in a small town. My parents, my father was a teacher. My mother was a housewife.” These words, though plain on the surface, carry the weight of a profound truth—that greatness can emerge from the humblest beginnings. The small town does not diminish the spirit; rather, it grounds it in the soil of simplicity, shaping character through modest means. From such roots, the branches of destiny may rise higher than even the dreamer can imagine.

To speak of a teacher as a father is to acknowledge the inheritance of wisdom, patience, and discipline. The teacher is one who shapes minds, who passes knowledge from one generation to the next. And to speak of a housewife as a mother is to honor the unseen strength of nurture, the quiet power of sacrifice, the daily labor that sustains the household. Together, these parents gave Forman not riches of gold or power, but the riches of love, stability, and values—a foundation upon which he would build a career that shook the world of art and film.

O listener, do not dismiss the small town. From villages, from forgotten places, have come leaders, artists, prophets, and visionaries. Abraham Lincoln, born in a log cabin, rose to preserve a nation. Mahatma Gandhi, raised in modest Gujarat, became the voice of freedom for millions. The soil of the humble birthplace often carries within it the nutrients of endurance, resilience, and perspective. For the child who grows without abundance learns to cherish opportunity, and the one who grows in simplicity learns to see clearly the illusions of grandeur.

There is also a hidden beauty in Forman’s words: the acknowledgment of origin. In a world where many boast of achievements, he chose instead to recall with reverence the teacher and the housewife. This is the mark of true greatness: not to forget the hands that raised you, nor the modesty of your beginnings. For even the tallest tree does not despise the seed from which it grew. Such remembrance keeps the heart humble, even as the world praises.

Think also of the tragedies that shaped him. Both his parents, devoted in their ordinary roles, perished in the horrors of the Nazi camps. Yet even this cruel severing could not erase the influence of their lives upon him. The teacher father left him the hunger for knowledge and discipline; the housewife mother, the tenderness and grounding of home. Though gone, their presence endured in his spirit, guiding his journey as he crossed borders and transformed sorrow into art that spoke to the human condition.

The lesson here is clear: do not underestimate the power of humble beginnings. A small town may shape you more deeply than a great city. The quiet strength of a teacher, the gentle care of a housewife, may leave a greater mark than the most famous mentors. Honor your origins, however modest, for they are the bedrock upon which your future rises. Even in hardship, even in loss, the seeds planted by those before you continue to grow within you, unseen but eternal.

Therefore, children of tomorrow, take courage in your simplicity. Do not despise your hometown, nor the quiet sacrifices of your family. If you are a teacher, know that your influence may shape not only students but generations. If you are a housewife, know that your love and labor sustain the greatness that is yet to come. And if you are a child of modest roots, remember always that these are not chains but wings—the grounding that allows you to soar higher.

For in the end, greatness is not defined by where you are born, but by what you carry forward from those beginnings. Milos Forman’s words remind us that even the humblest seed can become a mighty tree, and that the truest tribute we can pay to our parents and our origins is to live fully, to create boldly, and to remember always where we came from.