High School - Economics. I had a great teacher for economics. Great teachers are few and far between, and this guy was great. He taught college level macro and micro economics in the span of one semester, and also ran an investing club that more than doubled my investment over the course of a few months. (Although, our class had the highest return ever. And he might have had insider information. In fairness, I cannot substantiate that. It may have been a hot tip from his broker.)
College -- Too many to list. I went to a good school.
First: My first professor in my first class on my first day of school. Western Civ 101. He made history come alive. And he also handed me my diploma. (Luck of the draw.) Our picture together is framed and hanging in the house to this day.
He started the class by saying, "Look to your left. Look to your right. These people won't be here for the final exam. Just kidding. This is Western Civ. Let's have some fun with this."
Here's an example from his class:
"George Washington. Here he is in the iconic painting about to cross the Delaware River into New Jersey to fight the Hessians. Anyone know what he said just before that historic crossing? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?
He said, "Shift your fat ass, Harry. But don't swamp the ------- boat.*" (Referring to Harry Knox, artillery officer from Boston.)
Second: My journalism professor. I had this guy for roughly a dozen classes. He taught me how to write well. I will always be indebted.
Writing for him was like masonry:
"Here's the foundation (a bunch of writing tips). Here's the brick (more tips). Here's the decorative stuff."
Notable quote: I don't care if it follows the rules. Does it work?
You have to hand it to someone who teaches the rules. And then teaches how to break all the rules as long as the end result is professional.
*From a scholarly article written about the Battle of Trenton:
"The general, in an age noted for forthright language, had a most extraordinary command of gutter language; and whatever the exact words at the moment, it broke up the men on the dock. Half-hysterical already, their laughter was contagious. "What did he say? What did he say?" went down the line of waiting men. The story grew in the telling, and the men, wet, miserable, dispirited, became hysterical with laughter.
A few hours later, as dawn was breaking, two thousand half-naked, bearded, screaming kids, with no shot fired - a flintlock musket is useless in the rain - poured into Trenton and captured the entire Hessian garrison without losing a man; and once again, the United States of America became a possibility."
Deflation: When I was a kid, an E-ticket meant I was about to go on the ride of my life. Today, an E-ticket means a miserable ride.