My father also happened to be an intellectual, as learned

Hear now the tender remembrance of James Tobin, a Nobel laureate in economics, who spoke of his father with reverence: “My father also happened to be an intellectual, as learned, literate, informed, and curious as anyone I have known. Unobtrusively and casually, he was my wise and gentle teacher.” In these words shines a truth as old as humanity itself—that the greatest teachers are not always found in the schools or the academies, but often in the quiet presence of a parent, who, without command or show, instills wisdom in the daily rhythms of life.

Tobin calls his father an intellectual, but not in the proud or haughty sense. He describes instead a man who was curious, ever seeking knowledge, ever open to the world. His wisdom was not forced upon his son, but given unobtrusively and casually, like sunlight through a window or rain upon the fields. In this way, he reminds us that teaching need not always be formal; the most lasting lessons are often learned by observing, listening, and imitating the life of one who quietly embodies the virtues he wishes to pass on.

Consider what it means to have a gentle teacher. Many imagine wisdom comes through strict discipline or heavy words. Yet Tobin’s father taught with gentleness, a quality that does not weaken instruction but strengthens it. For gentleness makes learning safe; it allows the student to explore without fear, to grow without shame, to be corrected without humiliation. The true strength of a teacher is not in severity, but in patience, in the ability to guide steadily and kindly.

History offers us noble parallels. Think of John Stuart Mill, whose father James Mill, though rigorous in intellect, instilled in him a love of philosophy and reason that would shape his thought for the ages. Or reflect upon Abraham Lincoln, who often spoke of the lessons his stepmother gave him, not in books, but in her steadfast kindness and encouragement. These stories remind us that fathers and mothers, often unnoticed by history, are among the greatest shapers of human destiny, their teachings flowing through the deeds of their children.

Tobin’s words also remind us of the importance of curiosity as a legacy. His father was “informed and curious,” never content with ignorance, never satisfied with mere appearances. To grow up in the presence of such curiosity is to learn that the world is an endless field of discovery. This is no small gift, for it is curiosity that fuels invention, scholarship, and even the moral courage to question what is unjust. His father’s quiet example laid the foundation for Tobin’s own achievements, showing how the teacher at home may guide the scholar who later shapes nations.

The lesson for us is clear: teaching is not confined to classrooms, nor is wisdom the property of the learned elite. Every parent, every elder, every friend may be a teacher, not through grand lectures but through daily example. If you would pass on wisdom, do so with gentleness; let your curiosity show, let your love of learning be visible, and you will ignite in others a flame that will outlast you.

Practical wisdom follows: honor the teachers in your life, especially those who taught you not with force but with patience. If you are a parent, remember that your child learns more from your example than from your words. If you are a child, look back with gratitude upon those who shaped you quietly, who planted seeds of knowledge in ways you may not have recognized at the time. And if you are neither, then still live as a gentle teacher, for all who cross your path may yet learn from you.

Thus, O children of tomorrow, remember James Tobin’s words: his father was his wise and gentle teacher. Strive to be such teachers yourselves. Teach through curiosity, teach through kindness, teach through the quiet dignity of a life well-lived. For in the end, it is not the loudest voice that shapes the world, but the gentlest hand, guiding in love, that builds the foundations of greatness.