Most of us end up with no more than five or six people who

Hear the words of Andy Rooney, who reflected upon the quiet yet eternal legacy of those who teach: “Most of us end up with no more than five or six people who remember us. Teachers have thousands of people who remember them for the rest of their lives.” This is not merely a statement about memory, but a revelation about influence. For most souls pass through the world like leaves borne upon the wind, remembered by only a few loved ones. Yet the teacher, by the nature of their calling, plants themselves in the minds of multitudes, shaping futures and engraving their presence upon countless lives.

The ordinary man, no matter how honorable, is often remembered only within the circle of family and a few friends. But the teacher steps beyond this small circle. Each lesson spoken, each encouragement given, each seed of knowledge sown is carried forward into the lives of many. Though years pass and faces fade, the echo of their voice, the warmth of their guidance, the spark of their belief remains alive in the hearts of students. In this way, the teacher achieves a kind of immortality.

Consider the example of Socrates, who left behind no writings of his own. To the world, he would have been forgotten as just another Athenian voice in the marketplace. Yet through his students—Plato, Xenophon, and countless others—his influence multiplied. Today, the world still remembers his teachings, though centuries have passed. The man who had only a small circle of companions in life is now remembered by generations without number. Such is the power of a teacher—to be carried in the lives of those who learned from them.

History gives us many such examples. Anne Sullivan, the teacher of Helen Keller, lived a life of obscurity to most, but her impact on one child changed the way the world understood disability, language, and perseverance. Few remember the names of the rulers of her time, yet millions recall Anne Sullivan because she was woven into Helen Keller’s triumph. She is remembered not because of riches or titles, but because of her sacred role as a teacher.

The meaning is profound: wealth fades, empires crumble, but the influence of teaching endures in living memory. The words of kings may be inscribed on stone, but the words of a teacher are inscribed on human hearts. The classroom becomes a temple, the blackboard a sacred scroll, the lesson a torch passed from hand to hand. While most men are remembered by a few, the teacher becomes part of the memory of thousands, carried like light through generations.

The lesson we must take is this: never underestimate the reach of your influence. If you are a teacher, rejoice in the hidden immortality you cultivate each day. Even a single word of encouragement, a single act of patience, may echo through a student’s life and into the lives of all they touch. And if you are not a formal teacher, remember that in some moment you too will teach—your children, your friends, your companions. What you give in those moments may outlast all else.

What, then, are the practical actions? Live as though every word you speak might be remembered, every lesson you give might shape a destiny. Teachers: honor your role, for you hold the power of memory itself. Others: cherish your mentors, and keep alive the memory of those who taught you. Write to them, thank them, honor them, for in doing so you acknowledge the immortality of their labor. And above all, live so that you too may be remembered—not for riches or dominion, but for the wisdom and love you planted in others.

Thus Andy Rooney’s words ring with eternal truth: Most of us are remembered by a few, but the teacher by thousands. Let us then live as teachers—guides of light, sowers of seeds, builders of memory. For in this lies a form of glory beyond crowns or empires: to be remembered in the hearts of many, and to leave behind a legacy of souls forever changed.