The drama teacher that I had in high school, back in Texas, was

Hear the words of Steve Earle, troubadour and seeker of truth, who remembered with gratitude: “The drama teacher that I had in high school, back in Texas, was the only teacher who didn’t kick me out of his class. He turned me on to The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan. I had picked up Dylan with Bringing It All Back Home, and he turned me on to the first couple of albums, which I hadn’t heard.” In this memory lies a hidden jewel of wisdom: the power of one guide, one act of faith, one moment of encouragement that can redirect a life.

For here we see the role of the teacher not as a wielder of discipline, nor as a gatekeeper of rules, but as a guardian of potential. Others cast him out, dismissing the restless spirit of a young man who did not fit into their order. But the drama teacher did not close the door. Instead, he offered not punishment, but inspiration. He gave not rejection, but music. And in that gift, the path of a wandering youth was set toward art, storytelling, and song. Such is the miracle of a mentor: to see not only what is, but what could be.

The mention of Bob Dylan is no accident, for Dylan himself was a prophet of song, a weaver of words that carried the restless spirit of a generation. With albums like The Freewheelin’ and Bringing It All Back Home, he gave voice to rebellion, longing, protest, and truth. By introducing Earle to those earlier albums, the teacher was not merely sharing records—he was opening a doorway to vision, showing the young man that music could be more than entertainment; it could be a vehicle for truth, a vessel for the human soul.

History is rich with such moments. Consider Plato, who as a youth might have pursued wrestling or poetry alone, had not Socrates taken him in and awakened his philosophical spirit. The world remembers not the punishments of those who doubted him, but the inspiration of the mentor who lit his path. So it was with Steve Earle: the world does not remember the classes that expelled him, but the one teacher who believed enough to give him Dylan, and with Dylan, the vision of what music could be.

The meaning is clear: inspiration often comes not from the many, but from the few. Sometimes from only one. It takes only a single teacher, a single friend, a single guide who sees past the flaws and missteps of youth, to plant the seed of destiny. The others may dismiss, but the one who believes can change the entire course of a life. Thus the drama teacher of Texas, unknown to the world, helped shape an artist whose songs would echo far beyond the classroom walls.

The lesson is for us all: do not measure people only by how well they fit the mold. The restless, the troubled, the ones who seem hard to teach—they too may carry greatness within them. And perhaps it is you, through one act of kindness or encouragement, who may set them on the path of their calling. Likewise, if you are the one cast aside, do not despair. One voice of belief, one spark of inspiration, is enough to carry you forward, if you let it.

Practical actions rise from this truth. Teachers, mentors, and leaders: be slow to dismiss, quick to inspire. Introduce those under your care to works of greatness—whether books, songs, or ideas—that might awaken something hidden within them. And for each soul who receives such a gift, treasure it, nurture it, and let it guide you. For the world is changed not by rules and exclusions, but by inspiration passed from heart to heart.

So let the words of Steve Earle be remembered: “The drama teacher in Texas turned me on to Dylan, when others turned me away.” In this we learn the eternal truth: greatness is often born from one act of faith, one door left open, one mentor who dares to see potential where others see only trouble. Be that mentor if you can. And if you find one, honor them, for they have given you not just knowledge, but the gift of possibility.