Reliable, Trustworthy Reporting, Capturing The Heartbeat Of Our Community
Reliable, Trustworthy Reporting, Capturing The Heartbeat Of Our Community
School family • Special teachers who will always be a part of my life, during Thursday's get-together, include (front row, l-r): Becky Hajny, fourth grade; Carol Townsend, wife of superintendent Sam Townsend; Deb Schmoldt, physical education; Cliff Heftie, science; (back row, l-r): Ellyn Lines, sixth-grade social studies and Carole Pedersen, Spanish.
Lately, I've been thinking a lot about the village that raised me as a child. It may sound cliche, but I firmly believe the educators from Clay Center Public School were some of the best and brightest, some of the most creative minds, I have met. For a Class D school, Clay Center always was on the cutting edge of education. The facility was top-notch, the school offered its own in-house television service and teachers expected students to be accountable for their actions and assignments.
Simply said, they pushed us to be the best versions of ourselves. They refused to accept anything less.
Last Thursday, a spur-of-the-moment decision found me motoring down Highway 281, headed for Hastings, where former CCHS faculty and staff were scheduled to meet. The group of co-workers has been meeting like this for years, whether it be an end-of-the-year meal at a local steakhouse or a potluck picnic in the park. After my parents retired from teaching, they looked forward to the annual get-togethers, the opportunity to catch up with friends and colleagues.
When my sixth-grade social studies teacher messaged, and then called, about the reunion, I felt a sense of urgency to be there. Maybe it was her tone of voice. Maybe it was a sentimental reason - maybe I couldn't envision a CC teacher's reunion without some representative of the Larson family in attendance. Maybe it was a case of gratefulness. Of the 30-some teachers and staff members who attended, six taught me, two shuttled me to activities via school bus, another greeted our family every morning as we entered the school's kitchen, which was situated next to the faculty parking lot. The group shared stories, stirring memories of late-night bus rides, biology experiments and field trips.
As I listened, one word came to mind: longevity. Most of these teachers spent the bulk of their careers at the school. They were, and still are, family. Maybe, just maybe, I was missing mine so much, I needed to go home and reconnect with the past to appreciate the present.
"Once a Wildcat, always a Wildcat."
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