Thank You, Teachers

PRINCIPLE: Human Connection Is Irreplaceable

Mr. French just died. A week ago, I could have thanked him. Now I can only write these words.

How do I begin to describe the man that Mr. French was? The 9th-grade biology teacher represented the best of another era, transposed straight from Norman Rockwell's small-town America, like Warren Buffett teaching biology. A man who grew up in Ohio and somehow made money in the stock market, yet chose to devote his life - probably 50 years of it - to teaching.

He used to take generations of kids across the country on his famous summer road trips, buckled up in his old Suburban. That Suburban was itself a relic of American history, like him, sturdy and charming in its old age, feeling like it could run forever. A bunch of us used to go up to Vermont with him on innocent trips that remind me of classics like Leave It to Beaver and Stand By Me. He would spread his grape jelly on everything, including his skillet omelet. And through it all, he always warmly chuckled his famous, "Wonderful!" I will never forget the sound of that word emanating from an ever-present smile. I will also forever be grateful for the friendships that were deepened on those trips. Today, many of those kids are my best friends.

The news of his passing came just as I finished that last chapter about “Realm 5 Education”. It felt as if he were reminding me not to forget perhaps the most important chapter in this book: Gratitude for all of the teachers who shaped me, and all of the teachers who shaped all of us.

I think of Mr. Griswold, my late 8th-grade English teacher, who played the role of curmudgeon so beautifully. He pushed us to be our best selves, teaching grammar and essay structure in a way that got so much out of his students, because he cared. Yet he was also teaching discipline, nobility and, as one of the closest things I had to the Greatest Generation, an inkling of heroism. Years ago, when I spoke at my school, he came back to see me speak, wearing a broad smile. I was finally an equal. Like a father who’d pushed a son to be great, he was proud of me.

When I think about the transformative power of great teachers, I think of Zhang Laoshi, my teacher during my year in China when I was eleven. I spent hours in her office during classes I couldn't yet follow, like advanced mathematics in Chinese. She would teach me Chinese characters, but mostly we would talk. I remember her sweet giggle, the way she would sneak out with me to get grilled lamb skewers from the corner shop, and how she welcomed me not just into her classroom but into her home, where I became best friends with her son. My wife met her years later and said she had never seen such pure love radiating from someone's eyes, except from my wife’s Latin grandmother towards her. That's what the best teachers do - they don't just teach subjects, they welcome us into their hearts and help shape who we become. These moments of connection - whether in Mr. French's warm "Wonderful!", Mr. Griswold's proud smile, or Zhang Laoshi's loving gaze - remind us why teachers are irreplaceable.

As I write everything in the pages ahead about technology's role in education, I want to be absolutely clear: teachers are indeed irreplaceable. Like parents, siblings and grandparents, teachers provide the most formative gifts any of us will receive or give. Guidance. Mentorship. Love. The act of humans reaching into each other's hearts is something that no amount of software and no amount of AI can ever replace.

We are humans first and foremost. We always have been and we always will be.

The role of educator is the single most important job function in our society. These are the people building our future from the ground up, taking the little seeds of childhood potential and, year by year, tending to our children, from their foundation upward. Forced to choose between great teachers and great technology, my answer – even as I advocate for technology's power to teach – is clear: I chose the great teachers, every day.

If I were a benevolent dictator of America, my very first act would be to give teachers raises, both as gratitude for everything they have done and to ensure the best talent chooses teaching.

I've been incredibly fortunate in my education. From Greenwich Country Day School to Stanford Business School, I had access to the best possible schools. I remember sitting in the bathroom when I got the call from Stanford's Graduate School of Business - something I wanted more than anything in my life. Listening to the admissions director's voicemail, I literally jumped from my toilet seat in elation. Looking back, I understand why: those years set the course of my life. Everything I do happened because of my time there. They were one of my greatest blessings.

As the walls of my son’s school say, “A teacher affects eternity, and can never tell where the influence stops.” To all the teachers out there, and to all the schools valiantly carrying out the most important and noble task of our society - aside from perhaps putting one's life on the line to defend our freedom - thank you for your service.

So yes, Mr. French, thank you. Mr. Griswold and Zhang Laoshi, thank you. To all the teachers from Greenwich Country Day School, Brunswick, Harvard and Stanford, and to those whom I do not even remember in those early, formative years of my life, who took the time to make me the person I am, for all the years that your fingerprints made their way into my soul, thank you.

Not everyone is so lucky. I sent this to someone for feedback, and they replied, “I was speaking with Elina about this and we both struggled to find teachers that were inspiring to us. Maybe it is circumstance, her growing up in Finland and myself growing up in Australia. This piece that you wrote made us wonder, ‘what would it be like?’ So this piece is an emotional piece, and it made us feel envious of the fact that you had these wonderful teachers that you could remember.”

Everything I write about is, in some sense, about taking the blessing of the education that I was so lucky to have and spreading it to those who are not so lucky. Because most are not.

But we must never forget that technology is simply a tool to extend great teaching.

And Mr. French, thank you for reminding me to make this point so darn clear.