It's time for a quick test. Go back, way back, and think of one teacher who inspired you. Who changed your life. Who set you on the right course. Or who made learning fun.
All of us can usually think of one teacher who stands apart from the rest.
This month, on our Morning News, our anchors have been bringing in former teachers who have been special to them. It's been quite emotional at times, and reminds us that through all the morass of education, one single person can make all the difference in a young life.
Barack Obama, in his speech at the Democratic convention this week, said it was the job of teachers to inspire. That's true. But it's not easy.
It's those darn students. Some pay attention. Some look out the window. Some wonder how algebra is going to affect their lives since they're going to join a rock band anyway. Some have the attention spans of a tsetse fly.
But many teachers have the ability to engage large classes and make their subjects come alive every day.
I wasn't a good student. School usually got in the way of fun. I loved learning, but too many bad geography teachers droned on about oxbow lakes and too many French teachers forgot that French was the language of love and made it the language of dull.
My most influential teacher didn't even teach me. He was our homeroom teacher, or "form" teacher as we called him at my English grammar school. His name was Mr. Gurr. Every morning he took attendance, but he also took a sincere interest in all the students in the room, and built a strong rapport with us.
One day, I went into a "career guidance" session with my headmaster, a man who always wore a mortar board and gown, and also wore an air of perpetual regret and disappointment. He should have been at Eton, not this grubby grammar school in the English countryside.
He asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up.
"A journalist, sir."
He instantly guffawed and said: "That's preposterous. That isn't going to happen, is it. Your father has a plumbing business, right? He's a plumber?"
I nodded.
"Well I think you should become a plumber," he said. "You could do a lot worse." And then he stood. Our career session was over.
"I'm a very bad plumber, sir," I said. "And I don't particularly enjoy it."
"Hmmm. Well, that's my advice anyway. Good luck." And I was shown the door, and an uncertain future.
The next morning, Mr. Gurr asked how my careers session had gone. I told him. I obviously looked crestfallen, deflated, disappointed, because his next words will always stay with me:
"Never listen to people who tell you that you can't do something."
He told a personal story. He told me how he had been in a menial job and wanted to be a teacher. But everyone had told him he wasn't good enough. It was above his pay grade.
"But I said, to hell with them. And I went to night school for three years while working during the day. I'm 45. And now here I am, a new teacher, finally doing the job I love."
"And," he added, pausing for dramatic effect, "proving them all wrong. You go prove the headmaster wrong."
I've encountered many, many good teachers, and one or two very bad teachers. I've known teachers who couldn't keep control of a classroom, and others who could instil fear in students simply by holding up a hand.
I've known teachers who care passionately about all their students, and some who phone it in. Teaching, I figure, and flying planes are two jobs where you can't phone it in. Planes, and students, can crash and burn unless they're handled with immense care.
I asked around in our office. Everyone had one memorable and significant teacher. Someone who lifted them higher, pushed them harder or just simply believed in them.
One colleague said a teacher changed his life "because he made geography come alive. I have now been to more than 100 countries. Mostly because my teacher inspired and excited me."
This week, with school back in session, think of a teacher who helped make you who you are.
And if you're a teacher, good luck. Someone out there really needs you.
