File this under the heading Why we teach.

I got a message a few days ago from a former classmate, letting me know his father was going to be celebrating a milestone birthday this week.

His father, Tom Iagulli, was a beloved teacher and coach at our school. Everyone adored Mr. Iagulli, and I consider myself highly fortunate to have been in his eighth grade English class.

He was more commonly known as “Mr. I” or “Coach I”—which couldn’t be more ironic, since there was nothing “I” about him. He was entirely we, us, and our and perhaps the most unselfish man I’ve ever met.

As a teacher, he was gifted beyond measure. Think Robin Williams’ character in Dead Poet’s Society, only way more dynamic.

Mr. I had a knack for captivating his students’ attention and inspiring them to think big. He made Shakespeare and books like The Pigman, Fahrenheit 451, and Jonathan Livingston Seagull seem cool to too-cool-for-school seventh and eighth graders.

It takes a special person to be able to tame that age group. Mr. I did it with ease.

When I think of the impact he had on me, I smile. There is barely an aspect of my life that Mr. I didn’t play a role in shaping.

As a coach, I wanted to be him.

As a professional speaker, I make use of the same techniques I learned in his speech class all of the time. Great teachers have a way of making us remember the fundamentals.

As an author and blogger, I routinely think about the things I learned in his English class. I think about him teaching me the importance of power writing, grammar, and syntax. (Right now, I’m thinking about whether or not he would approve of my use of such a nondescript word as things in the first sentence of this paragraph!)

Some of the most valuable lessons I learned from Mr. I came from outside the classroom and off the field, like the importance of integrity, commitment, and loyalty. He embodied what it meant to be a good parent and a devoted husband. I’ve tried my best to follow his example to be both.

The hardest part about being a teacher, or a coach, or a mentor  is that you don’t always get to see an immediate return on your investment. It can take years to see the fruits of your labor come to fruition and the realization of the impact you had on a student.

As one life goes on to impact another, the hardest part is coming to grips with the fact that you may not live long enough to see the depth and breadth of the ripple effect brought on by your efforts.

If you are a teacher, or a coach, or a mentor, or even a parent, don’t let this deferment period discourage you—teach anyway.

Teach because you have the chance to impact. Teach because you have the chance to inspire. Teach because you have the chance to fill the void in a child’s life. Teach because you have the chance to initiate the next ripple and become the “Mr. I” in someone’s story.

When I graduated high school, Mr. I gave me a hardback copy of Jonathan Livingston Seagull. I have hundreds of books on the shelves in my office, but that one is special. I keep it locked away in my safe with my other important possessions.

On the inside cover of the book, Mr. I wrote the following:

“I just want you to know that when you “fly away,” sometime in the middle of here and now we’ll meet. And I do so look forward to having you teach me a thing or two!!!”

The inscription is a reference to a passage in the book that we studied in his class. It is also insight into the mindset of a master teacher.

I doubt I will ever attain a level of wisdom that will render me capable of teaching Mr. I “a thing or two.”  But I continue to work towards doing so every day because I don’t want to let him down. I strive to be a better person and reach the potential he saw in me.

As I write this, I wonder: Did I ever thank him? Did I ever let him know how much I appreciate all that he did for me and the impact he has had on my life?

I suspect many of you have had someone impact your life the way Mr. I impacted mine. Make today the day you decide to be a good teammate and reach out to that person. Share your memories. Let them know you appreciate the difference they made in your life.

I assure you, they will be grateful for your gesture and it will play a part in them finding solace in knowing it was all worth it.

To Mr. I, thank you and happy birthday. I hope you know that you continue to make a difference.

As always…Good teammates care. Good teammates share. Good teammates listen. Go be a good teammate.

Lance Loya is the founder and CEO of the Good Teammate Factory and the creator National Be a Good Teammate Day (July 22nd). He is a former sports coach turned bestselling author, blogger, and professional speaker, who inspires TEAMBUSTERS to become TEAMMATES. You can follow him on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, or through his weekly Teammate Tuesday blog.