GICC Moments of Grace

"The Oracle of Wisdom", my husband John calls him. He says it in jest, but Keith Kester, long time middle school history teacher, somehow makes you believe he has all the answers. The kids believe it anyway. And really gullible first year teachers. Mr. Keith Kester Kester arrives at Grand Island Central Catholic in 1981, a skinny boy in a too-big tie proudly carting a brand new briefcase. Just graduated from Doane University, Mr. Kester's a serious young teacher. The shiny briefcase is an emblem of professionalism, and Kester - just a tiny bit intimidated by the hundreds of sweaty, hormonal adolescents pouring into his classroom - holds his students to strict accountability. "If I hear any of you talking," he announces that first day in a quaking voice, "you will write one hundred sentences after school." Before the end of the year, however, Mr. Kester is noticeably relaxed. He ditches the briefcase along with the tie, and by Christmas he...

She gets us every time with her dead-pan humor. Ask Kerry O'Connor, GICC science teacher, about her favorite part of the school day, and she fires back without batting an eyelash, "Three-thirty." It's not true, of course. Well, maybe it is. Mrs. O'Connor has cherished her almost 25 years at Central Catholic. Even when opportunities arise to work elsewhere for a heck of a lot more money, she declines the offers. Mrs. O'Connor, middle front, with her second period anatomy and physiology class. "I would never leave GICC," she says. "This school has always been a safe place for me, and from the very first day I walked in the door, I felt welcome." Teaching has always been in her blood. She recalls playing school with her sister - complete with a blackboard, desk and books. She credits a high school biology and anatomy teacher at North Platte High School, however, for guiding her to a passion for science. "I love life science ...

Blake Kyriss is a loner, a stocky middle school boy who struggles in school and speaks with a lisp. I can see misery all over his small face and am not surprised that he is absent from school regularly. Little wonder for a kid who hides out by himself and begs to walk the halls unseen. He prefers never to be singled out for attention, and all of us worry and wonder how this shy, lost boy will ever graduate. We underestimate, however, the powers of Mr. James Lowry. James Lowry, GICC   The first day Blake walks into James Lowry's ninth grade geography class will change his life forever. "You!" Mr. Lowry shouts. Blake looks up, frightened. "Me?" "Yeah, you!" Under fierce eyebrows, Lowry glares across the room. "Have you talked to a single person today?" Blake glances around to make sure he is, in fact, the recipient of this outrage.  "Uh, no, Sir, " he mumbles painfully. Lowry shakes his head in mock disgust. "T...

My back aches. This morning I bend to grab a fluff of cat hair from the kitchen floor and very nearly fail to come back up. It's always this way - a small mundane task that becomes an agonizing reminder of my ageing body. Third period 8th grade English. The thing is, I'm not in the mood today for the eighth grade boy who surges into my classroom to dog whistle at the top of his lungs. Nor do I care to deal with uncharged Chrome books, late homework, or the middle school girl who abruptly vomits on my shoes. I'm old. I'm tired. And my back is killing me. It's eons ago that I am in the second grade lugging a small footstool to my bedroom - pretending it's my classroom desk - to carefully arrange two pencils and a Big Chief tablet on its surface. "Boys and Girls," I mimic my teacher Sister William Jane, "let's not have any funny business back there." Fr. Jim Golka Even then, school is my first love. From beginning ...