Crazy Science Teacher Made Most Bizarre Prediction 50 Years Ago — His Students Never Expected It to Come True
You've probably heard the old saying, "promises were made to be broken." How many of us have pinky swore with a childhood friend that we'll always be besties no matter what? Only to grow up and grow apart.
Sometimes our promises may be ever sillier. Like the good old "wedding pact." You know, when two friends promise each other: "If we're not married in 30 years, we'll get married"? How many times has that happened? Probably never (but if it has happened, please submit your story to sienna.aquilini@goalcast.com)!!
But sometimes, it really is the strangest promises that come true. And for science teacher Patrick Moriarty, when he made this bizarre promise to his class of 1978, he was going to make damn sure it came true.
He Made Them an Offer They Couldn’t Refuse... But May Just Forget
Two of Mr. Moriarty's students pose with their yearbook from 1982.WHAM via CNN / Video
Nearly 50 years ago, in Upstate New York, Patrick Moriarty was only beginning his teaching career. He was just 22 years old and he was all hands on deck when it came to shaping the leaders of tomorrow. In fact, "looking into the future" was something Mr. Moriarty was pretty good at.
As the story goes, one day the science teacher handed his class a worksheet which outlined the earth's solar system, demonstrating to his students how all the complicated stars and constellations and planets in the sky are miraculously connected. Of course, his students were fascinated by the wonder of the great unknown. I mean, what kid doesn't love space — or at least, Star Wars? Then, in the middle of his lesson, Mr. Moriarty had a passing observation...that would shockingly come full circle nearly half a century later — literally.
"I said to the kids, 'Hey, why don't you just go ahead and circle that eclipse and we'll get together,' and after I did that, I did that for the next 16 years with all of my classes that I taught Earth science to."
- Patrick Moriarty
One of the worksheets he handed out showed that in April 2024 (almost 50 years into the future), a once-in-a-lifetime scientific event would take place. There would be a solar eclipse passing over their small town. It was right then and there Mr. Moriarty had a passing thought, that turned into a long con plan. He swore that in 50 years, they would all get together again, and watch the spectacular solar eclipse, side by side.
His junior high students were convinced he was joking. They played along letting him know they "couldn't wait." Then as it does, time passed. The school year ended. His students grew up. And the world changed drastically, but what was written in the stars never changed.
But Mr. Moriarty was no ordinary teacher. He was a man with a plan, armed with a passion for science and a heart of gold. He distributed worksheets showing the paths of upcoming eclipses, circling the one they'd see in 2024.
man holding a yearbookWHAM via CNN / Video
Decades later, Mr. Moriarty's promise seemed like a distant memory, an old story that might never see the light of day again. After all, his former students had scattered far and wide, building careers, families, and lives that were miles away from their junior high classroom. Yet, despite the distance, the spirit of the original promise lingered in the back of Moriarty's mind.
In the age of social media, he had a new tool to track down his former students. With a single Facebook post, Mr. Moriarty invited his old class to a gathering at his Rochester, New York, home to watch the eclipse. It was a long shot — who would remember a promise made so long ago?
But to his surprise, the notifications began to pour in. Former students from across the country responded with excitement. A simple Facebook event, born from a half-century-old worksheet, had the power to rekindle the sense of wonder that once filled his classroom.
Over 100 Students Showed up to Complete the “Longest Homework Assignment in History”
Black and white photos from school yearbookWHAM via CNN / Video
When the big day finally arrived, Mr. Moriarty's driveway was buzzing with energy. Former students, some now in their 50s and 60s, gathered together to keep the promise alive. They came with their families, their stories, and even their yearbooks, ready to catch up and reminisce about the good old days.
“When teachers go into education, they hope that they can be that kind of teacher that would have an impact on people and make a difference for people. And this event right here just firmed it up for me that I guess I did okay.”
- Patrick Moriarty, The Washington Post
Mr. Moriarty, now in his late 60s, could hardly believe his eyes. Over 100 people showed up, eager to complete what they jokingly called "the longest homework assignment in history." For some, it was a trip down memory lane, while for others, it was a chance to reconnect with friends they hadn't seen in decades.
As the sky darkened and the eclipse reached its peak, everyone grew quiet, lost in the moment. Even though clouds obscured the eclipse, it didn't matter. What mattered was that they were together, keeping the promise alive.
The Real Lesson Could Never Be “Eclipsed”
Patrick Moriarty (center, blue shirt) and a group of his former students watched the solar eclipse together on Monday in New York.Caitlin Moriarty Hynick
The eclipse itself was incredible, but it was just the backdrop for something far more meaningful. For Mr. Moriarty, the real magic was in the connections made that day — the stories shared, the laughs had, and the memories relived. It was a reminder that a simple promise made in a junior high classroom could bring people together decades later.
The gathering proved that a teacher's influence can last a lifetime. The bond between Mr. Moriarty and his students was stronger than the sun, moon, and stars combined. It was a celebration of friendship, loyalty, and the enduring impact a teacher can have on the lives of their students.
"The eclipse itself … took a back seat to what this was all about. The eclipse was my catalyst more than anything.” - Patrick Moriarty
As the day came to a close, Mr. Moriarty couldn't help but feel grateful. Not just for the eclipse, but for the people who made it all worthwhile. It was a lesson that even the biggest promises can be kept if you believe in them enough. This was one promise that could never be eclipsed.
Who Do You Think You Are?
Ah -- that blessed, belittling interrogative. The one with the power to shoot you down in a second; make a comedy of your greatest life aims in minutes; prevent you from telling anyone about your achievements for months; turn you into a person who apologizes for every accomplishment while branding it "self-deprecation" for life.
Because when someone asks you who you think you are, how do you respond?
Most likely with fear.
Fear of sounding too self-important. Fear of being "full of yourself." Fear that if you dare stand tall and say exactly who you think you are, you will be laughed at and dismissed as a "dreamer"...
Who Do You Think You Are?
Here is the issue: we 21st-century citizens are conflicted by a desire to share with the world the best, proudest aspects of our lives, while not wanting to appear special or better than anyone else.
Reality check: you are not better than anyone else – nor is anyone better than you. We all came onto this planet as human beings and are therefore fundamentally equal.
However, here's the second reality check: you are special. This much is undeniable. You have something to give that somebody else could never give, just as much as they have a gift you could never bear.
Knowing that you are special does not make you self-important; it makes you self-aware.
The good news? People are asking you who you think you are because you are daring to do/say/practice things that are perceivably bigger than yourself. This can intimidate people, because you're exceeding whatever limits they've set up for you in their minds. So, for people to be asking you this dazzling compliment shrouded as an insult, who exactly do you think you are...?
I'll tell you who I think you are.
Someone who no longer puts up with adequacy
You once accepted half-hearted adequacy from your peers so that peace could be kept. As long as you were doing the right job, why bother over what others are doing? It's their business, you once thought. But now you know that, as Viola Davis once put it, "You only get better by working with people who are excellent." If your team isn't excellent, neither will you be — and you won't grow.
Therefore you're no longer afraid of conflict with those who choose to be only adequate. Naturally they'll ask you who you think you are because it's easier than rising to the high bars you set. Realize you are doing the right thing and continue; if you persist unapologetically towards excellence, people will either quit or come around eventually. Move forward regardless.
Someone who speaks up for what they believe in
People ask you who you think you are when you dare to voice your opinion. As a result of speaking up for your beliefs, especially if they go against the grain, you're going to experience backlash. Nonetheless, if you are speaking for what is right – not offending others unnecessarily – then you are doing what you were sent here to do. So many people submerge their opinions – and rightly they should, if any of those attitudes target anyone based on their gender, race, sexuality, religion, or any other factor they cannot control. But if you are voicing your beliefs from a place of profound passion about something you love, or an injustice you hate, then you are on the right track.
Beware, however, that as a consequence people will ask – albeit under their breath, "Who you think you are?" Why? Because they haven't yet found the courage in themselves to speak up for what they believe in. More often than not, they are, as Erin Elizabeth expressed it, the "people in this world that will stay quiet while surrounded by ten people talking crap about their best friend." Draw confidence from the fact that you are not one of them.
Someone with big dreams
The inspiration for this article came from the biggest dreamer I know: Oprah Winfrey. In an interview with Brené Brown, Oprah admitted that the one shame-gremlin-message that has followed her throughout her entire career has been "Who do you think you are?" -- not from herself, but rather from what was reflected to her by other people. Because as a "little black girl from Mississippi" commanding millions of dollars a year from The Oprah Winfrey Show, she surpassed every limit her ex-bosses, coworkers, family members and members of the public had set up for her.
As the people with the biggest dreams, we will always be asked who we think we are.
Why? Because we are dangerous. Because we are unafraid of failure. Because while other people may have doubts about our abilities, we never listen. We simply accept feedback where useful, reject what isn't and then move forward. We persist. We are, in the words of Les Brown, "An uncommon breed."
And because of this we are going to be laughed at. We are going to be mocked. We are going to be told again and again that we are setting ourselves up for lives of poverty and disappointment.
We are going to be asked repeatedly: "Who the hell do you think you are?"
And now you know what to tell them in response.