I'm lucky I had some teachers who saw something in me.

Hear the humble confession of Ann Bancroft, the explorer of ice and dream: “I’m lucky I had some teachers who saw something in me.” In these few words lies a truth older than empires: that greatness is rarely born alone. The flame of potential is hidden in many, but it often takes the eye of another — the teacher, the mentor, the guide — to see it, to name it, and to shield it until it can grow. For many live and die without such recognition, their gifts unseen, their light unkindled. Bancroft calls herself lucky, because she was blessed with those rare souls who looked past the surface and saw the hidden spark.

The ancients knew that the teacher is not only a conveyor of knowledge but a seer of souls. Socrates, who claimed to know nothing, saw greatness in young Plato and led him to question all things. In India, the word guru means “the one who dispels darkness,” for the true guide does not simply instruct but reveals the light within the disciple. Ann Bancroft’s words echo this ancient wisdom: her teachers were not merely lecturers but visionaries who recognized the explorer before she had even taken her first steps into the polar winds.

History gives us shining examples. Consider Albert Einstein, who as a boy was dismissed by many as slow and dull. Yet one teacher placed a simple compass in his hand and spoke to him of invisible forces. In that moment, the child who seemed ordinary was awakened to the mysteries of the universe. That compass became the seed of wonder, and Einstein grew into the man who reshaped physics. Without that one guiding eye, would the world have known his genius? Here we see the power of a teacher who “saw something” in a hidden place.

But the story carries a deeper lesson: to be truly seen is more than recognition of ability; it is a gift of hope. The words of encouragement from a teacher can become the scaffolding upon which a life is built. Bancroft, who would cross the Arctic and inspire countless souls, did not rise by strength alone — she rose because voices along the way said, “You can.” Such voices echo long after the classroom walls have faded, shaping destinies.

Yet, if Ann Bancroft calls herself lucky, it is because she knows not all share this gift. Many wander unseen, their potential hidden, their talents buried. This is why the role of a teacher — whether formal or informal — is among the holiest of callings. Every person we meet carries hidden treasure, but few are trained to recognize it. The true teacher sees what others overlook, and by naming it, they bring it to life.

The lesson for us, then, is twofold. First: be grateful for those who have “seen something” in you. Honor their role in your journey, for their vision helped shape your path. Second: become such a seer yourself. Do not merely look at others for what they are now, but for what they might yet be. Encourage, uplift, call forth. For the smallest word of faith can become the greatest turning point in another’s life.

Practical action lies within reach. Speak encouragement when you see potential, even in fragile form. Be slow to dismiss, and quick to affirm. If you teach, do so with eyes open not just to performance, but to possibility. And if you learn, carry gratitude in your heart for those who first believed in you. In this way, the cycle continues — each generation seeing and awakening the next.

So let Ann Bancroft’s words echo like a prayer: “I’m lucky I had some teachers who saw something in me.” Let us live so that others may one day say the same of us. For to see, to believe, and to awaken greatness in another is among the highest gifts one soul can give to another — and through it, the world itself is changed.