As a teacher/role model I’ve always felt the very least I can give the young people I encounter on a daily basis is honesty. That’s why when a youthful fellow who is nearly as tall as I am cheerfully informed me in an early-September post-class chat that he would probably do little if any reading for class this year, I responded in an equally agreeable tone that if he stuck to that intention, chances were strong he’d fail sophomore English and have to make up the credit sometime in the next two years if he wished to graduate from high school with his class in June of 2015.

It’s hard not to like this young man. I do; he’s always respectful to me, even though he can’t see much sense in my chosen profession. He doesn’t take his failing grades personally any more than I begrudge his resisting the joys of reading. He goes to a job after school that he enjoys and that he’s good at; reliable sources inform me that his dedication, attitude and skills are all very much appreciated by a boss who treats him very well, and that he may have a future there.

I have no doubt the work ethic he displays at his place of employment is superior to the one the vast majority of his classmates (including many nominal honor students) currently exhibit, or in many cases will ever possess. But he’s patiently (and in his mind accurately) told me many times that what I am trying to impart to his class isn’t important to him. Applying himself to his academic courses is far down on his list of priorities, if it appears there at all. The last time he arrived in class without his homework, I gently reminded him I couldn’t give him any credit for work he hadn’t done. His response was to shrug and explain, “That’s okay, Mr. Young. It doesn’t matter.”

I wanted to shout, “But it does matter!” But I consciously resisted doing so.

I shudder to think what my life today would be had I not earned my high school diploma. I wasn’t the most dedicated student, but given that my strongest grades were in physical education and my weakest came in courses requiring hard work and/or skilled use of tools, it was apparent even to me I’d need further schooling if I ever wished to reside somewhere other than the basement or attic of some tolerant relative’s abode. But knowing how hardheaded I was at the time, I suspect that regardless of how true it was, had some well-intentioned, passionate adult given me the wrong lecture at the wrong time it would have further solidified my already willful reluctance to trying anything new or challenging. And whatever chance there was I’d plunge (or even dip my littlest toe) into the vast sea of opportunity that was out there for me to discover would have evaporated entirely.

On the surface, the person I was nearly 40 years ago had a great deal in common with many of the literature-detesting students I am currently charged with educating. As they are today, I was bored by school and far more concerned with gaining the approval of my chronological peers than I was with pleasing my parents, or with impressing anyone else two, three or four times my age. It would be hypocritical of me to decry the fact that many of today’s teens won’t read anything of value, since at a similar stage of development I wouldn’t have considered examining any published writing that was printed on anything other than the back side of a baseball card.

Today, my life is, for the most part, very rewarding. I imagine many people my (or any) age would switch places with me in a heartbeat. But in hindsight, I see my current status as having occurred in spite of youthful foolishness, a glacial maturation rate and some very determined self-sabotaging efforts. Whatever success, gratification and rewards I’ve earned have had as much to do with the patience and understanding of others as they did with anything I’ve done on my own.

Many impressive individuals have written eloquently about how their lives were changed for the better by listening to the right words uttered by the right person at the right time. But sometimes holding one’s tongue can be as valuable as wagging it, even when the sentiments the would-be speaker wishes to express are thoughtful, articulate, dead-on accurate and completely well-intended.

Sharing a few well-chosen words that subsequently make a significant and positive impact on a young person’s life is indescribably gratifying. But refraining from uttering the wrong ones at the wrong time is equally important, even if there isn’t any tangible reward for having purposely avoided doing so.

— Andy Young works hard at saying the right words and swallowing the wrong ones in his job as a high school English teacher in York County.