I recall the story of an eight-year-old child whose IQ tested in the genius category.
Unfortunately, the child was told she was different from others in her class and she presumed it meant better. The child danced about with self-important pride. When her mother caught wind of the child's arrogance, the mother carefully chastised her.
"But mother, I am brighter than most people in this country!"
The mother quickly knelt to her child's level and explained, "Every person on earth is blessed with a secret wisdom; each knows something about how to live, about how to be happy."
Much later in life, after the child had grown into a woman, she dreamed that she stood at a threshold where many people were passing through her door. She didn't know where they came from or where they were going, but that didn't seem to matter. Each time someone passed by her, she was handed a gift. Each gift was unique. Each was given along with these words, "Here is something for you to keep and treasure. It is only mine to give." The meaning of the dream was clear.
Some people pass through our doorways on their way to the rest of their lives. We may never see or hear from them again. Yet each has left something behind.
We are part of everyone we touch, they a part of us.
All men are our teachers.