He was not a consultant and I did not seek intervention, but one powerful moment with a mentor changed my life. His name was Mr. Rouse, my sixth grade teacher. He had only taught in my tiny little schoolhouse for a few years. My elementary school was a brick and stone structure built in the 1890s that had served our rural community for decades. Almost every student went to school or rode a bike, so only two or three buses lined the curb in front of the building each day. Almost no one drove to school in a parent's car.
Mr. Rouse was my older sister's teacher in his freshman year and he definitely made a splash. He was one of only three male teachers in the building. That was unusual enough, but it was far from traditional. Bearded and rough in his demeanor, he never wore a tie – at a time when even students sometimes wore ties and shirts. He taught in the United States for as long as it took to make enough money to go overseas, and then he was gone again to teach in a remote village halfway around the world.
I don't know how he chose our little village for one of his overseas fundraising sabbaticals, but I'm glad he did. I will be celebrating my sixth decade this summer, and yet his face and voice are still clear in my head.
I was a mediocre student who never took my studies seriously. Although I was an avid reader very early on, I much preferred to play baseball, ride bicycles, and climb trees than do schoolwork, and each day of school was a countdown until I was free to get on my bike and ride home. Equally significant, I never thought I was very smart. Nobody ever gave me a clear reason to think otherwise until Mr. Rouse.
One of his routines was a weekly spell check that consisted of 10 words. All students who scored 90% or more on every test throughout the year were invited to a local restaurant with him to celebrate in May. My sister made this goal and got her picture in the local paper with her classmates and Mr. Rouse at the restaurant party.
I stayed in the game until shortly after the Christmas break when I missed two words on a weekly test. My score of 80 meant I wasn't there. I wasn't really surprised that I didn't make it, but I was disappointed. Mr. Rouse came to my desk sometime that day and sat next to me. His huge body was pressed into the old folding desk – the kind with the inkwell in the top corner. We went through my spelling words and the mistake I made was simple.
"Greg, you are too smart to make such a mistake. You could have ended the year, ”he said matter-of-factly. I could see that he believed I was smart and he believed in me. I never wanted to disappoint him again.
Many years later, after a difficult first year in college, I thought of Mr. Rouse as I worked to save my GPA. I also thought of him when I applied for graduate school and again when I applied for my doctoral program. When some of my classmates retired from our PhD. I remembered his words: "You could have been done" and I got my way.
I'm so grateful to Mr. Rouse, but he also taught me something very therapeutic. I can't remember anything else from sixth grade or him. I moved to junior high the following year, and Mr. Rouse moved on to his next adventure the following year. I never saw him again, but the power of that one moment – just seconds in my long life in a sixth grade classroom – influenced me forever. I suppose if I had ever had the opportunity later in life to ask Mr. Rouse if he did this on purpose, he probably would have said no. He was just a good teacher getting his job done, but it was a powerful moment he took advantage of and we cannot always schedule these times.
Now I think of him every time a customer walks through my office door. I have my agenda and activities ready, but it can only be a random moment – maybe even a moment that I don't recognize at this point – that changes them forever.
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Gregory K. Moffatt is a 30-year veteran advisor and the Dean of the College of Social and Behavioral Sciences at Point University. In his monthly Voice of Experience column for CT Online, he seeks theoretical, ethical and practical lessons from his diverse career as well as inspiration for today's consultants, whether they are just starting out or have been practicing for many years. His experience spans three decades of working with children, trauma, and abuse, as well as a host of other experiences including working with schools, businesses, and law enforcement agencies. Contact him at [email protected].
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Opinions and statements in articles appearing on CT Online should not be assumed to reflect the opinions of the editors or guidelines of the American Counseling Association.
