Of all the Sunday School teachers that stay with me, I think I am fortunate in that they are three men.
When I was in primary school at the small Presbyterian Church near my home: Sasha L, a tall handsome young Yugoslavian who may or may not have been a Christian; in my childhood I was not sure of his real position, but as a group of young boys we were very impressed at this huge happy bloke teaching us.
In later primary school years, another man: our SS was in his home, as my parents had decided to support a 'church plant' as we call it these days, in a nearby developing suburb. Max H was the age of my parents, so awesomely old for an 11 year old. Again, I relished being taught by a man. For a boy, it made it feel proper, serious and important. It also showed me a man being a Christian: a great model.
The last bloke was called Glyn L, I think. Or maybe Glen; he had an odd accent. We were still supporting the church 'plant' while I was in junior high school and Glyn travelled half way across Sydney to teach us; a group of boys.
I would not know what any of these men thought of their efforts; 'just' teaching Sunday School? But here I am, remembering them decades later. Their efforts were important, at least to me.
Actually, as I cast my mind back, I can think of perhaps three men who were very important in my later development: Bob S., Wally L. and Denis P. (now dead). Great blokes with the quiet glow of the indwelling Spirit.