The future in the hands of today's youths is bright

Sometimes I can see the future.

No, I'm not a clairvoyant. Or a fortune-teller.

I don't have any tarot cards. I don't read tea leaves.

However, I confess that I have, over the years, split open a few persimmon seeds after the first heavy frost of autumn to determine what kind of winter to expect.

But that's not what's on my mind this week.

I got a glimpse of the future at Monday's luncheon meeting of the Rotary Club of Cape Girardeau. Two students from Cape Girardeau Central High School presented a program that informed us about a wonderful Rotary-sponsored program called the Rotary Youth Leadership Academy.

The academy brought together about 150 youths to learn leadership skills and make friends. As evidenced by Isaiah McMullen and Maddie Baker, the experience was positive and successful.

While these two students gave their talk, I could see them, a few years from now, taking the reins of responsibility that come with adulthood. I want them to enjoy being high school students for the time being, but it's awfully good to know they, and many others like them, will be looking out for me as the years roll by.

After Monday's meeting, I pondered for a while whether I could have demonstrated so much poise, maturity and good humor when I was a sophomore or junior in high school. The answer: Maybe. But the plain fact is I was never asked.

I had great high school teachers. They gave us a sound grounding in the fundamentals. But as I recollect there was only one teacher who ever pushed us to our limits -- and beyond.

And we hated him.

His name was Tom Brown. He taught the biology class I was in. When we did well, he urged us to do better. When we did great, he threw it back at us as proof of what we were capable of.

He made us work. Hard. And we didn't like it. Not one bit.

The science room where we had biology class didn't have individual desks for students. We sat around heavy oak tables that accommodated collaboration, which Mr. Brown encouraged.

Near the end of the school year, Mr. Brown closed his biology book and just stared at the dozen or so students in the class. Finally he spoke.

For today's exercise, he said, he wanted us to think about becoming adults. Look at who is in charge of the adult world right now. John F. Kennedy had been elected president. We knew who owned and managed businesses around town. We knew the pastors of the many churches. We knew who was in charge of the school district: Mr. White, who brooked no nonsense from faculty or students. We had been taught about state government in civics class. We were lectured by our teachers about the Supreme Court decision that barred racial discrimination in public places. The Zephyr Cafe -- lunchroom for many high school students across the street -- could no longer post its sign: We reserve the right to refuse ... etc.

It was, without a doubt, a time of change and upheaval. Vietnam was on the horizon.

Who, Mr. Brown asked the students sitting around those tables, would be the leaders when we became adults? Who in this classroom has the potential to be the governor of Missouri?

We all made our careful assessments. I decided there was only one classmate who might ever be governor. He was one of those teenagers who actually thought before he spoke or acted. He had good powers of reasoning. I would be proud to have him as my governor, I decided.

It turned out that Harold Ellinghouse did not become governor. He took over the family business, a highly regarded weekly newspaper. He is, as far as I know, still the owner and publisher of the paper. His father was an inspiration for me in my early journalism career. I have never forgotten the high standards of fairness and accuracy that Mr. Ellinghouse senior demonstrated. I was sure those positive attributes would take root in his son. And they did.

And so, as it happens, the one bit of exposure I had to "leadership training" in my high school career came by way of Mr. Brown, a little-appreciated biology teacher who took the time during class one day to push us -- again -- a bit further along the path of responsibility.

That's the opportunity Isaiah and Maddie had during their leadership academy experience at William Woods University in Fulton.

Time after time when I have the opportunity to witness how young people act and think, I am reassured, again, to know that the future is bright and full of expectation.

To all the Isaiahs and Maddies out there: Thank you. Thank you for showing some of us with white tops a glimpse of the future.

As for Mr. Brown, it has taken me a half-century or so to realize he was one of my best high school teachers. It's never too late to give a teacher all the credit he is due.

Our schools are full of Mr. Browns. I only hope students realize what a gift they have.

Don't wait 50 years to find out.

Joe Sullivan is the retired editor of the Southeast Missourian.