Teaching does allow me to keep one foot in the youthful waters I

When Alafair Burke declares, “Teaching does allow me to keep one foot in the youthful waters I tend to occupy in my novels, so I’m thankful for that. My students also remind me on a daily basis that the stories I collected during my district attorney days are actually interesting to people who haven’t had that experience,” she speaks with the clarity of one who has learned to weave the threads of past and present into a single tapestry. Her words honor both her calling as a teacher and her history as a prosecutor, showing that nothing in life is wasted, and that every chapter finds new meaning when shared with others.

The origin of this gratitude lies in her unique journey—first as a district attorney, immersed in the weight of law and justice, and later as a novelist, shaping those experiences into narrative. Yet, as she herself admits, the soul of her writing thrives in youthful waters, where curiosity, energy, and the vitality of imagination are strongest. It is her role as a teacher that allows her to remain close to these waters, drawing from the vigor of her students and remembering that even the most ordinary-seeming stories can be extraordinary to those who have never walked her path.

This truth is not hers alone. Consider the philosopher Socrates, who never wrote a book, but instead taught young men in the streets of Athens. Socrates himself confessed that teaching was not merely about imparting knowledge, but about remaining alive in spirit, refreshed daily by the questions and wonder of the youth. As Burke draws strength from her students, so did Socrates, who saw in them the energy that kept his own wisdom sharp and his soul connected to the future. Thus, teaching is not simply giving—it is also receiving, a mutual renewal of the human spirit.

There is humility in Burke’s words, for she admits that what she once lived—the endless trials, the cases, the courtroom battles—might have seemed ordinary to her with time. But in the eyes of her students, those same stories become vibrant, filled with intrigue and insight. This is a reminder of an eternal truth: that our lives, even when they feel common to us, may be extraordinary to others. It is gratitude, not pride, that allows her to see her past anew, reframed through the awe and curiosity of younger minds.

Her thankfulness reveals a wisdom that transcends profession. She does not take for granted the bridge between law, literature, and teaching. Instead, she acknowledges that every role she has played continues to enrich the others. This interweaving of paths shows us that nothing is discarded in the journey of life. What we learn in one season becomes the nourishment for another. She is thankful because she knows that without her days as a district attorney, her stories would lack depth; without her students, they might lack life.

The lesson for us is clear: to live fully is to honor each chapter of our lives and to recognize that even when we move into new roles, the past continues to bear fruit. Teaching, creating, serving—these are not separate rivers but tributaries that merge into one greater flow. Like Burke, we must learn to see how our past experiences remain meaningful, especially when shared with others who are eager to learn.

Practical wisdom follows. Whatever your background, do not dismiss it as uninteresting or irrelevant. Share it with humility, and you may find that what feels ordinary to you is wondrous to another. Engage with the young, for their energy can renew your own. Approach every new role not as a departure from your past, but as an opportunity to integrate it. And above all, cultivate thankfulness, for gratitude transforms the burdens of yesterday into the blessings of today.

Thus, in the words of Alafair Burke, we are reminded of an ancient truth: that teaching keeps the soul young, that storytelling keeps the past alive, and that gratitude binds both together. Let us then carry her wisdom, giving thanks for our own journeys, sharing our stories freely, and remembering that in the eyes of others, even the smallest of our experiences may shine with the brilliance of eternity.