My parents never ceased to struggle, but in witnessing their

Hear the words of Stacey Abrams, a daughter of perseverance, who declared: “My parents never ceased to struggle, but in witnessing their lives, I learned more about natural industry and leadership than in any classroom.” Within this remembrance lies a wisdom as old as the earth: that the truest teachers are not always found behind lecterns or within books, but in the lived example of those who toil with dignity and rise with endurance. Struggle, when met with courage, becomes not a curse but a fire that forges both industry and leadership.

For classrooms may impart theories and laws, they may teach the form of governance or the logic of numbers. Yet they cannot capture the steady persistence of a parent who labors through hardship, nor the silent strength of those who rise again and again against adversity. Stacey Abrams beheld in her parents’ struggle a living scripture, one written not on paper but in action. In their ceaseless fight to provide, she saw the essence of industry—the discipline to work with one’s hands and heart. In their sacrifice and guidance, she discovered the essence of leadership—the ability to inspire others not with words, but with example.

History offers us many such teachers. Consider Abraham Lincoln, born to humble farmers in a log cabin. He attended little school, but in watching his father labor and his mother nurture with resilience, he learned lessons no formal schooling could equal. From these roots grew a man of iron will and deep compassion, one who would preserve a nation through its darkest trial. The classroom of his youth was hardship itself, and yet from it rose the strength to guide millions. Abrams, in her words, echoes this truth: the greatest leadership is often taught not in halls of learning, but in the furnace of daily life.

The origin of Abrams’s quote lies in her recognition that struggle itself is a form of instruction. Her parents, though perhaps lacking wealth or privilege, possessed an untaught wisdom that no university could bestow. By persevering through difficulty, they imparted to their daughter an unshakable truth: that character is forged not by ease, but by endurance. What they lacked in luxury, they replaced with example. What they could not purchase with riches, they gave through resilience.

And so, her words remind us that each of us inherits teachers beyond the walls of schools. The mother who rises before dawn to labor for her family; the father who gives his strength to protect and provide; the elder who holds dignity amid hardship—these are the professors of life, their lessons deeper than any curriculum. To witness such struggle with open eyes is to learn the true meaning of perseverance, courage, and responsibility.

The lesson is clear: honor the silent teachers in your life, those whose industry and leadership are expressed not in speeches, but in deeds. Do not dismiss the power of humble examples, for they may shape you more than the finest lecture. Ask yourself not only what you have learned from books, but what you have learned from the lives around you. In the struggles of others, there is a wealth of wisdom waiting to be gathered.

Practical action flows from this truth: if you are a parent, know that your children learn more from your actions than your words. If you are a child, seek the lessons hidden in the perseverance of your elders. If you are a leader, remember that the greatest way to teach is to embody the virtues you wish others to follow. Leadership and industry are not spoken into existence; they are lived, witnessed, and passed on by example.

So remember always Abrams’s wisdom: the classroom of life is greater than the classroom of walls. Let the struggles of others be your teachers, let your own struggles be lessons for those who come after, and let the flame of example burn brighter than any textbook. For in the end, it is not knowledge alone that shapes us, but the witnessing of lives lived with courage, labor, and unyielding strength.