Kristen Klein

I hear it through the grapevine. Central Catholic's hired a new principal.

In a few days it's official. Kristen Klein, a young woman with barely two years' teaching experience, is the youngest administrator ever to be hired at GICC.

Kristen Klein

Dear God, I think. What can Bishop Hanefeldt be thinking? Are we really handing our school over to this slip of a girl?

It's a shame no one asks my opinion. I am an old teacher who could tell the Bishop a thing or two. I could tell him Central Catholic needs the guidance of a seasoned professional who's been around the block a few times. I have socks older than this girl. But does anybody bother to consult me? Come to think of it, nobody calls from the White House to ask me how to fix Social Security either.

The first time I meet Kristen Klein over coffee at Barista's, I am bowled over by her confidence and poise and faith.

"She's a gem," I admit to my husband afterward. "The Holy Spirit is looking out for us."

He cocks an eyebrow and pretends to be shocked. "You're kidding. They managed to find a good person without your help?"  He's a smart alec, my husband. I suppose I will have to forgive Bishop Hanefeldt.

Nobody works harder than Kristen Klein. Her inherent good work ethic propels her through college in three and a half years. She pays her own way through college by waitressing and working several other jobs.

Focused and goal-oriented, she nevertheless is distracted one day by a cute guy dining at Perkins. They make awkward eye contact, go out the next day, and in ten months will be married. "When you know, you know!" she laughs.

While earning her masters in education administration, she works for the Susan Buffett Foundation, teaches college transition classes, and is intrigued by the idea of entrepreneurial education. "You don't have to teach the way everybody else does it," she eagerly explains. "You can think outside the box."

Her husband Brett, who works for Waddell and Reed, persuades Kristen to move to Grand Island. As an interventionist at GISH, she becomes close to high-risk kids and works with them to transform their lives. The next year she teaches business, but Kristen remains attracted to the idea of entrepreneurial learning. Her professional life, however, takes an altogether different turn when Father Mike McDermott, her Resurrection Church pastor, issues a challenge.

"You need to think about applying for the Central Catholic principal job," he says. Kristen shrugs off the suggestion, but Father Mike is like a stubborn gnat. "I've been praying about this," he tells her a few days later. "You really need to consider applying."

The interview experience will be good for her, she finally relents. Never does she imagine she will be hired as Grand Island Central Catholic's youngest principal.

Father Scott Harter, St. Mary's associate pastor and GICC chaplain, is not surprised at all. He thinks Kristen Klein is "profoundly refreshing, competent, driven, and most importantly a believer." She allows her faith to to penetrate the mundane of her life, Father Scott says, so that all she does is informed and influenced by the God that she loves.

"When I'm watching her work," Father Scott says, "I most admire the freedom with which she operates, a freedom which flows from the fact that she is about one thing - the spiritual, mental and physical good of the students she serves." He also says she is a Velociraptor who eats students for breakfast. Like my husband, he's a terrible smart alec.

Father Scott agrees, though, that some things can't be taught - like the intuitive ability to build relationships with kids. Kristen does it like a pro. First thing in the morning, she's in the Central Catholic hallways talking to kids.

"I really try to be present before school starts," she says. "It's a good time to gauge how kids are doing." She greets them at the door with her lovely, warm smile and talks to them about sports and band and difficult classes.

"Sometimes in the morning, I need a friendly smile," eighth grader Julia Pilsl says. "Mrs. Klein is always out in the hall helping someone or having a great conversation. I always think she's definitely the kind of person I want to be around. She inspires me."

Her main goal, Kristen emphasizes, is to build relationships. In the end, having relationships with kids helps with discipline, too.

Eighth grader Russell Martinez is energetic and likable with a mischievous smile. "Mrs. Klein gets on stuff right away. If something's wrong between you and another kid," he says, "she knows how to get things settled." He refuses to muddy the story with details. "Let's just say she's good at solving conflict," he grins.

Senior Garrett Steinke is a genius at wearing anything but a school uniform. During his junior year, he manages to come to class sporting a variety of colorful sweaters and shirts - none of which meet the dress code standards. This year, however, he dutifully wears his Crusader polo shirt and khakis."I don't know how to explain it," he smiles sheepishly. "Mrs. Klein sits down with you and explains why the rules are the way they are. She's tough, but she's nice without being mean. So I guess I'll be wearing my uniform until I graduate."

Kristen is tough but fair. And she is a young woman of faith.

I am distributing the Eucharist one morning at school Mass. Kristen comes forth to receive Communion, and I am struck by her expression of reverence. "This girl," I think, "is a believer."

She admits her faith has "exploded" at Central Catholic. Always a dutiful Catholic, she doesn't realize how much her faith means until she marries Brett, a non-Catholic, and the subject of religion rises.

"I'm not leaving the Church," she tells him. At the time, she is unable to articulate why her Catholic religion is so vitally important. Brett, however, is drawn to the Church as well and chooses to convert to Catholicism.

Now, during the first challenging year as an administrator, Kristen relies on her faith more than ever. Periodically, she escapes to the school chapel for a few minutes to pray and journal. In these first few months, she confides, the job has been overwhelming with its many demands. But every day she rises to the challenge and is grateful for the kids, their good parents, and the band of teachers with whom she shares her days.

Her favorite Bible verse, on a wooden plaque in her school office, bolsters her with courage. From Joshua 1:9, it reads, "Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go."

Miraculously, during these first three months in her new job, the message has appeared on texts, photos and emails no less than 20 different times. Always, Kristen marvels, it appears when she most needs a lift.

"I'm impatient and frustrated sometimes," she sighs. "We need to be whippers and snappers at Grand Island Central Catholic. We should be recognized for more than athletics. We're so much more" she says. She wants Central Catholic to be lauded for students who are academically prepared for college and spiritually prepared for life. Next year, she hopes to share her passion for entrepreneurial learning and to teach a class herself. "I always want things to change quickly, and when they don't change fast enough, I get frustrated," she admits. "Those frustrating days, I believe, are learning experiences."

At the same time, she's gratified when parents and kids respond to her hard work and kindness. "I hope I'm making an impact and doing what I'm supposed to be doing," she says.

She has no idea the kind of impact she's making on all of us. There are plenty of us who are older and experienced. Youth brings a nice balance. It appears that a young, vital first-year principal is exactly what we need here at Central Catholic. I'm grateful for Kristen Klein. She is an answer to prayer, and it seems that even without my help, God apparently knows what he's doing.

But I wish President Obama would call. I really could fix Social Security.

The Henke Family

From top left clockwise: Connor, Brad, Stephanie, Kennadi,
Cedric and Hayley Henke.

Stephanie Sasges Henke is surrounded by her  brood - Connor, Hayley and Kennadi - in the school library. When her husband Brad arrives with second grader Cedric in tow, they all light up. Cedric rushes to his mother, climbs into her lap, and hugs her fiercely.

This, I think, is a happy family.

Stephanie is Central Catholic's afternoon librarian. In the morning, she's the director of the First Presbyterian Church Preschool. Her passion for children is a gift to the community. In her relatively new position as preschool director, a job she was handpicked for by board members, she implements her own ideas and provides preschoolers not only a safe place to grow and play but to learn as well.

"We're trying to get them ready for the Grand Island Public School system," she says. Stephanie works hard to align her own curriculum with Grand Island Public's.

I have known Stephanie since she was a kid. Before I teach her children Connor, Hayley and Kennadi at Central Catholic, I have taught Stephanie. She is a typical middle school girl who worries about everything middle school girls do - friends, volleyball, middle school mixers. After she graduates, I don't see her again for several years. Then one day our young boys, who attend the Wasmer Elementary's Almost Home program after school, tell me all about the new assistant Stephanie. I am amazed to discover it's our own Stephanie Sasges. She is radiant, filled with purpose, and loves her job and her Almost Home kids.

"My work and love for kids really started at the YWCA and Almost Home," she says. Children will become a life long passion for Stephanie. Having her own children will also become her most fervent desire. It will not be an easy road, though.

She and her husband Brad will try for years to have a baby of their own before they finally decide to adopt. Connor, a ninth grader at Central Catholic, is their first child. Because he is African American, Brad and Stephanie are required to take classes for raising a child in a biracial family. Connor is a happy, beautiful baby and the light of Brad and Steph's lives. He is a year old when Brad and Steph begin the lengthy journey to fertility clinics and a long hoped for pregnancy. Finally, at Omaha Children's Hospital, a doctor is able to help Steph become pregnant. The result is twins Kennadi and Hayley. It is an enormously expensive process, and Steph does not attempt it again. She and Brad, however, still hope to have another child.

"Let's just make sure it's a boy," Brad asks as he and Steph begin the adoption process again. Cedric, now seven, is their last child.  Like his brother Connor, Cedric is African-American. As adopted children, they are curious about their birth families. Connor, now 14, knows he has birth siblings, but his birth mother chooses a closed adoption and has not made an attempt to contact Connor.

"When I'm 18," Connor says, "I'll try to find her and my birth siblings. I just want to know where I come from. I want to know if my birth brothers and sisters look and act like me."

His sisters tease him. One day when Connor becomes furious with his mother, he storms out the door. "Goodbye, adopted mom!" he calls over his shoulder. He laughs now and shakes his head. "I was mad," he explains. Nevertheless, it's clear that Connor, like the rest of his siblings, adores his mother and father.

If there has been one bump in the road, it's been Hayley's health. Hayley and her sister Kennadi are eighth graders at Central Catholic. In her first grade year, Hayley complains to her mother that her knees are stiff and sore. The diagnosis is a long time coming. When it does, the news is grim. Hayley has juvenile rheumatoid arthritis. It's Dr. Jennifer Alberts, a Grand Island dermatologist, who urges Stephanie and Brad to seek a specialist. Stephanie is forever thankful to her.

"Everybody told us Hayley was just experiencing stress," Stephanie remembers. When Hayley's arthritis is discovered, she undergoes an operation to remove fluids and infection from her knees and begins to feel better. All in all, Hayley has endured nine operations and faces more surgery down the road. She is, however, uncomplaining about her health issue. The only downside, she says, is that because her arthritis affects her auto-immune system, it's difficult to fight off flu and colds.

"I get scared sometimes when it takes me a while to feel better," she says, "but otherwise I've just learned to live with it."

Hayley is given a weekly injection by her mother, which she hates, and takes six pills a day for her arthritis. In every other respect, however, she is like any other eighth grade girl who throws herself into school.

Stephanie has always loved Central Catholic and wanted her own kids to attend school there. "GICC has always meant a lot to me. Teachers really cared about me, and it's where I made some of my very best friends. I want my own kids to have that and to learn about their faith in a Catholic school atmosphere."

Connor, Kennadi and Hayley love their school and teachers as well. Hayley remembers that religion teacher Joanne Oltean took a special interest in her and was concerned about her arthritis. Kennadi, too, is a fan of Mrs. Oltean's. "She really taught me a lot about our faith. And I like Father Scott (Harter), too," she grins. "He gives the best homilies. I always listen because he makes it so enjoyable."

On this Friday afternoon after a long week of school, the entire Henke family is ready to watch some high school football. Connor is a freshman on the Crusader team, and all the Henkes are wearing Crusader blue shirts and sweatshirts. Stephanie beams at her happy, active family. Her children, she says, are all uniquely themselves. Connor is the outgoing kid, Kennadi's the positive one, Hayley's bighearted, and Connor is definitely the loving child.

"I always like to say that my boys are a gift from Heaven, and my girls are a gift from science. But they are all," Steph smiles, "a gift from God."