Not too long ago, I went to a Federal Way elementary school for a meeting.

As I weaved my way through the corridors for an exit, I stopped at a few classes at random to take notice of some of our future leaders.

“What’s your name?” I asked some students, as I peacefully interrupted a class while the teacher looked on befuddled.

“Well, hello there, future attorney general!” I said to a girl, who radiated a smile that could light the room.

“How are we doing today, future Hollywood moviemaker?” I said to another.

“You look like you will become a prominent surgeon,” I told yet another.

I thought I could get away with just a few selections, but before I could leave the classroom, some students were volunteering themselves: “So what about me?” they asked, their hands hoisted in the air, awaiting predictions of their future professions.

“What’s going on Mr. College President? Let’s get a high-five from our Supreme Court judge. Can I get a handshake from the corporate CEO? I am not leaving until I get an autograph from the future NASA astronaut.”

As each pronouncement was made, the hands were lowered. You could see the gleam in their eyes coruscating with hope for a brighter tomorrow. I later apologized to the teacher for causing such an interruption, but all he offered was a smile.

From that casual encounter with those pint-sized movers and shakers, something positive has taken place. I would be out in the malls, at the library, or at restaurants, and hear, “Hello, Mr. Palmer.”

Sometimes I would rack my brains trying to fathom, “Who is this child?” But before long, he or she would relieve me of my memory lapses.

“Don’t you remember me? I am the future attorney general…I am the future executive director…I am the future airline pilot.” And note, these assertions are said with much aplomb.

I no longer hear, “I am Michael,” “I am Jessica,” or “I am Frank.” They are entwined with their future vocations. I cannot express my surge of excitement, knowing that the seed was planted and germination has begun.

I strongly believe that if our young people are affirmed by adults regularly, they will know that goals are attainable.

Teachers can do only so much encouraging our young. More of us need to impact these precious minds whenever time allows. These children don’t have to be related to you for affirmations to take root.

Past inspiration

My fourth-grade teacher, Evangeline Martin, did this for me in a more subtle way. Every day before class began, she would choose a child’s name at random from among her 50 students and write that boy or girl’s full name at the upper right hand corner of the blackboard. Next day, it was replaced with another child’s name.

Some were poor while others were middle class, but we all felt privileged. Wanted. Important. A student seeing his or her name on the blackboard felt as though he or she could conquer the world. That gesture, albeit subtle, was saying a thousand words to our young minds.

A year ago, at one of my book signings, I decided to show my appreciation to this nonpareil teacher. Even though I dedicated the entire chapter 7 of my book to her, I felt as though my humble thank-yous could never go far enough.

So I set out to collect letters from every continent of the world — including Antarctica — and my mission was accomplished. I told the letter writers what an exceptional teacher Miss Martin was, and they were too happy to oblige.

Letters streamed in from college presidents, principals, teachers, pastors, scientists, mayors, senators, governors, corporate CEOs, among countless others. Postmarked packages came from Thailand, Peru, Brazil, Canada, Australia, the United States, and yes, from Antarctica.

I even received heartfelt letters from Queen Elizabeth of Buckingham Palace and Nobel Prize winner Archbishop Desmond Tutu of South Africa, paying tribute to her.

I laminated the letters and placed them in a gold-embossed portfolio and presented them to her. I doubt there was a dry eye in the room. She was shocked, to say the least. And quite appreciative.

Had it not been for a Miss Martin in my life, and the affirmations she gave me along the way in my early years, I doubt that I would have entered college, much less graduating.

From memory, I can still recite all 50 students’ first and last names from that fourth-grade class, but don’t make the mistake of asking me to tell you 10 students’ names from my college years.

I attribute that selective memory to the importance I gained from a teacher who was way ahead of her time.

Her gesture was not a school-mandated edict handed down from the principal or from the board of education. Our class was the only class that did that. She just found a way to let her young charges feel as though they were important.

I don’t recall her giving me a red cent. She didn’t give me an endowment. But her words and gestures meant the world to me. That is why I feel obligated to every child I come in contact with to let him or her know how important they are to society.

Over the years, Federal Way has produced some primetime figures, namely, Apolo Ohno of “Dancing with the Stars” and speed-skating fame, and Sanjaya Malakar of “American Idol” fame.

Still in King County: Let’s go to Mercer Island High School for a moment, less than 30 miles away from Federal Way, where Stanley Ann Dunham spent four years of her life. Nearly 50 years ago, no doubt, some teachers played pivotal roles in her life. She would later give birth to the 44th President of the United States, Barack Obama.

Is it so far-fetched then to believe that the Federal Way School District, brimming with its gorgeous mosaic of students representing more than 75 countries, not bestowing the U.S. with a president 30 years from now? If not a president, how about a world-renowned cardiologist? Astronomer? Business mogul? Product designer?

All this and more can be possible. Just help our teachers send positive messages to our youth.