Miss Mary Wiles

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 quiet presence.

More than 30 years later, Matt Anderson is the husband and father of three boys, but he remembers that moment as if it was yesterday. “When I heard she’d passed, it was the exact event I thought of,” he says now.  “She didn’t care about anything else other than compassion for the student who was hurting.”

After a long illness, Mary Wiles takes her last breath on Feb. 21st - the day before Ash Wednesday. As she lingers in the hospital, I'm certain she’ll wait until Ash Wednesday to depart from this earth. Back in the day, with purple cutouts and stick figures resembling Jesus on the cross, she coaxes all of us into the season of Lent. However, when she dies on Shrove Tuesday, Jodi Kosmicki Stauffer, director of family ministries at St. Leo’s and a 1988 GICC graduate, reminds us of the way Miss Wiles hosted Pancake Day at Central Catholic.

“Because of Miss Wiles, Fat Tuesday became Pancake Day in my world forevermore!” she remembers. “It was just one of the ways she impacted, influenced and changed my life. She was our Saint of Central Catholic.”

As soon as news of her death is posted, hundreds of former students from the last four decades react. 

“May all the angels - especially her stick figure ones - greet her in Heaven!” writes Katie Skibinski Fehrman.

“Love her and remember the way she tirelessly sent students notes with the Hallelujah Man on them. We need a Hallelujah Man emoji for her!” said Jody Dunn Maas.

“She was so wonderful at facilitating open, honest dialogue about our faith without our feeling shame or judgment,” Tori Edwards said.

"Junior high felt intimidating at the time," Jim Goodwin recalls, "but Miss Wiles' calm demeanor, composed strength, and passion for doing the right thing told me everything was going to be just fine."

"I've been dreading this day," writes Jeff Harb. "I hope she truly knows the positive and loving and kind influence she's had on so many. Especially me."

Somehow, during her 38 years at Central Catholic, no student ever felt guilt about sharing family dilemmas or difficulties with Miss Wiles. Kids turned to her instinctively when family members died, when parents divorced, when relatives suffered from substance abuse. Or they came to her because they'd plain old flat messed up and needed reassurance.

“A saint is only a person who keeps trying,” she reminded them gently.

Mike Rohweder's birthday card from
Miss Wiles, 1983

Every single student and staff member received a handwritten birthday card from Miss Wiles. Mike Rohweder, 1984 grad and now GICC’s business manager, still saves the card Miss Wiles gave him when he was a senior - because, of course, Mike saves everything. But this particular item is important.

“Can you imagine being so excited to get a card on your 18th birthday from your old religion teacher?” he says. A card from Miss Wiles, however, with her signature Hallelujah Man and distinctive penmanship, was considered a prized possession for life.

Aside from the birthday cards and personal counseling, students especially remember sitting on the floor cross-legged with Miss Wiles, who sat on the floor right along with them until old age prevented her from doing so. She guided them through the Sacraments and Church teachings while at the same time leaving all the time in the world for the questions that only young, curious minds wonder about.

 "But what if my uncle didn't get baptized? Is he going to Hell?" a worried seventh grader asks.

Oftentimes, the discussions veer off topic, but every child feels comfortable to broach the unthinkable. "Will there be sex in Heaven?" or "If I secretly call my baseball coach a douche bag - but only in my mind - is that a sin?"

Mary entertains all of us in the faculty lounge with kids' unique questions but never divulges identities or confidences. Students understand everything stays within the four walls of Miss Wiles' classroom.

They remember the annual Christmas project of boxing up hundreds of donated items to deliver to needy families, raking leaves at St. Mary's Convent, celebrating the Blessed Mother's birthday with an actual birthday cake, and always abruptly bowing their heads to pray when an ambulance siren blares from outside.

Mary visiting her beloved
Colorado.

Miss Wiles never raises her voice and never runs out of patience. One day, however, when the eighth graders are particularly rowdy, social studies teacher James Lowry hears the wild commotion in Mary's room next door and peaks in to see kids laughing and screaming while Mary stands serenely next to the window and stares outside.

"You okay, Miss Wiles?" he asks.

She turns, surprised. "Oh, yes," she says. "Sometimes when I get upset, I look out the window to say a little prayer and think about my Colorado mountains."

James Lowry, demon that he is, makes it his mission to hear Miss Wiles swear.

"Just one cuss word," he constantly teases her. "Just one."

She laughs like a little girl and ignores him.

One unforgettable day, however, she slips into his classroom. "Mr. Lowry, I only have one thing to say." She desperately attempts to keep a straight face. "You're a butt."

Lowry stares at her. "Oh, COME ON!" he derides her. "That doesn't even count! If you're gonna cuss, drop the big one, Miss Wiles!"

She giggles and blushes and waves him away. It's all she's willing to give.

The years pass, and one day we notice Miss Wiles is climbing the stairs a little more slowly. The huge and demanding Christmas-giving project must be put aside, and our beloved Miss Wiles is getting tired. We are devastated the day she announces her retirement. At the last all-school Mass of 2014, religion teacher Dee Hanssen asks us to acknowledge Miss Wiles' many years of service to the school, and I think the gym full of kids, teachers and parents will never stop applauding. It is a full five minutes before everybody wipes away tears and finally sits.

Mary and Dawn Zulkoski attend the
college graduation reception last spring
for the GICC Ortega triplets:
Alex, Berto and Jacqui. 

During her retirement, she doesn't travel to her

Colorado mountains for very long before ill health keeps her homebound. Dialysis treatments and doctors' visits consume her days. Because Mary lives alone and her siblings reside out of state, she relies on her friends. From every corner of her world, they respond.

Good buddy and former religion teacher Patty Golka drives Mary to appointments and works week after week to sort through Mary's possessions from school that still fill her home. Deb and Gary Houdek drive in from Chapman to offer their services and friendship. Sister Ann Ference checks on her regularly, and former teacher Doris Rempe delivers Mary to endless appointments, even to Lincoln and Omaha. Good friend Ann Miller, even after she's ministered to her dying husband, takes on the responsibility of helping to drive Mary to dialysis, and Alberto and Maria Ortega along with their triplets - all Mary's former students - become Mary's most important neighbors. Alberto drives her to dialysis three mornings a week, and he and his boys mow her yard and scoop snow every winter. Dawn Zulkoski is the child Mary never had and Mary's closest friend. No task is too great for Dawn. Dawn's own girls are like grandchildren to Mary, and Dawn is by Mary's side at a moment's notice.

"I can't think why all these people are so willing to help me," Mary marvels, shaking her head. "I couldn't survive without them."

But Miss Wiles is only reaping what she's sown for the last many, many years. People are there for Mary because Mary was there for them.

Along with retired English teacher Julie Kayl, I visit Mary two weeks ago. We don't realize it will be the last time we ever talk to her. She's staying at Good Samaritan Assisted Living, and she's slightly confused. Although it's seven in the evening, Mary thinks it's morning time.

"Look at what they gave me for breakfast." Indignantly, she holds up a plate of chicken and peas. "Do you call this breakfast?"

I ignore her irritation and instead give her my small offering. GICC Development Director Jolene Wojcik has asked me to deliver a Christmas card to Miss Wiles that arrives at the school's Foundation Office.

"It's from Bishop Golka!" I hand the card to her. The plate of food is now forgotten, and instantly Mary's confusion disappears. She smiles her radiant smile. Former student Jim Golka, now Bishop James Golka of the Diocese of Colorado Springs, is one of Mary's favorite people in the world.

The card reads simply, "I love you, Mary! Jim"

Mary's delight is obvious.

The very next day, she's rushed to the hospital with a brain bleed, and by the time Mrs. Kayl and I see her again, Mary is unresponsive. Her decline is swift. Nevertheless, her good and gentle friend Ann Miller spends hours by Mary's side talking to her as if she's completely aware and responsive.

As they learn of her impending death, former students post their favorite memories of Mary Wiles on Facebook - hundreds of them - and Ann sits close to Mary to read aloud every single one of them. In response to the many posts, Ann assures graduates that she's read their messages to Miss Wiles. 

Robyn Darling Deck, one of Mary's much loved students, posts a fervent message to Ann.

"Oh, my heart is breaking," posts Robyn. "She is one of the most beautiful souls I have ever met. Ann Miller, please let her know I am so thankful for everything she did for me in my youth!"

Ann writes back a post of reassurance: "Robyn, I told her. I am sure she heard me."

Without a doubt, she hears all her kids - even now from Heaven.

"Miss Wiles is a saint," Mary's former student Dan Elliott writes. "I'm happy to know she will be praying for us."

How could she not? Mary Wiles will spend eternity praying for every single one of us. 

That's what Saints do.