Phou Manivong

You can't help but love being around Phou Manivong. His easy demeanor is soothing, but his humor is sometimes irreverent.

"I do your nails for big discount today," he jokes in a contrived Asian dialect.

This makes me uncomfortable. In spite of his Asian roots, Mr. Manivong is as Americanized as it gets. But his accent is dead on, and just as I want to laugh out loud, I think, "But wait. Isn't that racist?"

It doesn't take long to understand that Phou, in his own satirical way, is poking fun at the misinformed among us: the people who would have you believe that Asians are bad drivers, manically wired, and socially inept nerds. Mr. Manivong is none of those things.

In his second year as Central Catholic's assistant principal, he and Principal Jordan Engle make quite a team. Phou's calm and tranquil manner is the perfect foil for Jordan's boundless energy. They're good for each other and good for the school. More and more, Phou's many gifts are challenged on a daily basis. Always, however, he meets every new wrinkle with steadfast deliberation. Nothing appears to rattle him.

The perfect family man, he adores his wife Morganne and seven-year-old son Kalen. He remains devoted to a close-knit extended family of grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, brothers and his sweet mom. And somehow he juggles his administration duties with his cross country and track coaching responsibilities. He's also instituted the FBLA (Future Business Leaders of America) club at school. Every student and teacher recognizes a friend in Mr. Manivong.

Junior Raegan Gellatly, one of Phou's runners, is inspired by Coach Manivong's positive and caring attitude. "He celebrates our cross country wins with us," she smiles. "When we win a race, he comes over and jumps up and down like a kid with all of us. Everybody loves him."

Mr. Manivong is a self-made man. While raising his son, teaching business classes at Central Catholic, and coaching his runners, he was at the same time working for his administration degree. It wasn't easy, but he enjoys his new role as an administrator.

"I thought I would miss the interaction with kids in the classroom," he said, "but I'm just interacting with them in a different way now. It's been great."

What he doesn't say, however, is that his life from beginning to end has been fairly miraculous. Phou Manivong started from humble roots. His mother, when she was pregnant with Phou, fled Laos in southeast Asia during the Communist takeover. With a number of other family members - including Phou's brother, cousins, aunts and uncles - Phou's mother and father were ready to flee when Phou's father suddenly turned back.

"Turned out he was married to somebody else the whole time and had another family," Phou said. His mother, shocked and confused, nevertheless held tight to Phou's older brother and prayed for the safety of her unborn child. With the rest of her family, she made the harrowing journey to the United States. There was no going back.

"She's told me stories of Laos," Phou recalls, "and how difficult it was to grow up and raise a family. Sometimes there wasn't enough to eat, so she'd mix water with eggs to make them stretch."

In 1980, as the Communist influence bordered the neighboring country of Viet Nam, Laos citizens lived in fear that military factions would hurt or kill residents. The only way to get out was to cross the Mekong River, the 12th longest river in the world. Phou's pregnant mother, with her small son in tow, managed to cross safely. Phou's tiny cousin, however, was lost in the river and never seen again.

In Thailand, at a refugee camp, Phou was born. His mother had no birth certificate for her tiny baby. But he was alive, and that was enough.

Thankfully, Phou's great aunt in Memphis, Tennessee, was able to sponsor the Manivong family. Exhausted and bewildered, they all arrived in the United States. Nobody spoke English. The uncertainty of fitting into a different culture and finding work was terrifying. It wasn't long, though, before Phou's mother heard by word of mouth about a place called Monfort's in Grand Island, Nebraska. There was work to be had at the packing plant, and once again Phou's extended family made another journey - this one not quite as daunting - to the plains of Nebraska.

"I learned English by watching cartoons on Saturday morning," Phou says. "And in the Grand Island public school system, the ESL (English as a Second Language) classes helped me. In fact," he says, "without those classes, I wouldn't be where I am today."

Phou's grandparents eventually joined them in Grand Island, and both his grandfather and Phou's mother were employed by Monfort's, now Swift's.

"My mom worked there for 30 years before she retired," Phou says proudly.

Because his mother worked long hours, Phou says his grandparents became the parental force in his life. His grandfather would often lecture Phou and his brothers and cousins.

"You're the first of all of us to have this opportunity - to go to college and earn degrees. Work hard for that opportunity!" he told his grandchildren.

Phou took the words to heart. At Grand Island Senior High, Phou's social studies teacher Dale Birch pushed Phou. Birch also coached Phou in track and football and always motivated him to use his talents.

"I was a quiet kid, but Dale helped me to become more confident. By my junior year, I was socializing more and feeling comfortable about who I was," Phou said.

With the help of grants and loans and scholarships, Phou managed to enroll himself at the University of Nebraska at Kearney to earn his business degree. He would be the first in his family to earn a college diploma. Eventually he would earn his teaching degree as well, but it wasn't until he was working for Wells Fargo just after his college graduation that he discovered his talent for education.

"At Wells Fargo, I taught some classes about banking products. Public speaking wasn't my thing at all," Phou remembers, "but I enjoyed it. That's when I first started thinking about education."

In the meantime, he was falling in love with Morganne, his future wife, who also worked at Wells Fargo. When Phou accidentally left his phone at the office. Morganne surreptitiously added her number to Phou's contact list. And a romance was born.

Eventually, Phou was married to his beautiful Morganne and became a father.
He was an educator and enjoying his new life -  all of it had finally come to fruition. But he never forgot what his mother sacrificed for him, and he never forgot the difficulties of being a little different from all the other kids in school.

Growing up, Phou remembers being teased about his Asian culture. Though it bothered him, he learned to become thick-skinned and developed a wicked sense of humor. One of the many assumptions, he says, is that all Asians master karate. When people ask him if knows karate or Kung Fu, Phou looks them straight in the eye and says, "I know all the pressure points. I could drop you to your knees."

As he's become an adult, he's learned to deal with the racial overtones. "I try to make light of my culture, and I knew a long time ago that I have to ignore people who make those stereotypical comments. No, I don't do nails, and I'm not a Kung Fu expert."

Phou Manivong is, in fact, a gifted administrator, a talented coach, an enormously kind friend, and a loving family man. Central Catholic is grateful for him, and he says he's grateful to have been part of us for the last 12 years. When he was employed at the Success Academy at Grand Island Senior High and interviewing for a teaching job at Central Catholic, he remembers bumping into colleague Joyce Messing, a former counselor at GICC.

"You'll never want to leave Central Catholic," she told him with heartfelt sincerity.

It's turned out to be true. Lucky for us.