GICC Moments of Grace

  Craig Rupp I first meet little wild-haired Craig Rupp when he's ten-years-old and attempting to steal money from a charity. It's during half-time of the boys' basketball game. Some good folks have grabbed a blanket by its four corners and parade it around our GICC cracker box of a gym. Faithful fans are encouraged to toss coins and wadded up bills into the middle of it for Muscular Dystrophy - surely a noble cause if there ever was one.  A brand new first year teacher, I'm squeezed next to the good Central Catholic Sisters in the hot and crowded bleachers when a sturdy little boy with hair like a lion's mane rushes out to the gym floor. In a mad frenzy, he scoops up all the loose change that misses the blanket and stuffs it frantically into his pockets. When he discovers a silver dollar coin, he actually crows in delight and holds it above his head like a trophy. The nuns are apoplectic. "Someone must stop that boy!" It's Sister Mary Leo. Sitting bes...

First row, sitting from left: Dianne Davis Ziller, Barb Venhaus Beck, Dan Slattery, Susie Vogel Schutt, Barb Kosinski Bosak. Middle row from left: Tony Wassinger, Karen Pfeifer Robison, Terry Paustian Buck, Jean Fitzpatrick. Last row from left: Tom Moore, Willy Mohr, Greg Walz, Patty Buhrman McBride, Cathy Brown Howard, Geri Koziol Zaruba, Lenny Sorahan. Grand Island Central Catholic Class of 1973 I was hoping to lose 20 pounds before my high school reunion.  But it turns out I'm tired. So now, having given up all hope of a leaner, meaner version of my 68-year-old self, I sit in the lobby of Grand Island Central Catholic. Not only was I a student in this old school, but I've also been a teacher for 47 years. In truth I've never lived anywhere in my life as long as I've lived at GICC. On this warm September afternoon I'm waiting for my visiting classmates to arrive for a tour of their alma mater. It occurs to me that not once in this last half century have I ever sat...

Karen Pfeifer Robison, senior pic I am 16-years-old and a new student at Grand Island Central Catholic.  My nine younger brothers and sisters and I have been plucked from the home, the neighborhood, and the school in Denver we've known all our lives to move to this obscure little town in the middle of Nebraska because of my dad's new job. On this first day of school, I am miserable and lost and can't find my way to the cafeteria. "It's down the hall to your right," says a voice as if reading my mind. Appearing beside me is a tiny little cheerleader in her cheer skirt and vest. "Be sure to come to the pep rally after school!" she smiles and dances away down the hall. I swear there are springs in her feet. Hers is the first friendly face I encounter, and quite suddenly I feel better.  I can't possibly know on this warm September day in 1971 that the little cheerleader with springs in her feet will be my life long friend. Or that one day we will wor...

  Central Catholic senior Michael Erives Michael Erives does a wicked impression of his history teacher, Mr. Howard - who also happens to be my husband. It is, in fact, so spot on that I laugh hard enough to fall out of my chair. So do his classmates who are witnesses to Michael's performance in my language arts classroom. "Please excuse me," he pretends to be an increasingly apoplectic Mr. Howard. "How rude of me to lecture while you're trying to SHARPEN YOUR PENCIL." Michael is small and compact and looks nothing like Mr. Howard, but somehow he captures the essence of my towering six and half foot husband barking relentlessly at students.  This kid should be on television, I think. He's one of the most talented students I've ever taught. But there's not a chance Michael will ever appear in front of a camera. Instead, he'll be the guy behind the camera - creating the kind of magic that we've all come to practically take for granted here ...

Mary Wiles in her GICC classroom One chilly morning before school in Miss Wiles’ classroom - big and spacious and filled with light - Mary and I are talking hard and fast. You have to talk fast to Mary because at any moment a student could interrupt needing the ministrations that only Miss Wiles can offer. Sure enough, suddenly in the room appears Matthew Anderson, a sweet, big-eyed seventh grader. He stands forlornly and very small in the doorway and stares pleadingly at Mary. “My grandpa died,” his voice trembles.  “Oh! Oh!” Mary cries. Immediately she’s across the room gathering the boy in her arms and making comforting noises as he sobs against her. I slip out quietly feeling as if I’ve intruded upon a sacred moment. This is what Miss Wiles does every day, and the rest of us who teach with her take for granted her special role at Grand Island Central Catholic. Mary Wiles is always there, not just for her students but for all of us. We cannot imagine GICC without her calm and qu...