Collaborate. Empathize. Innovate: The Conclusion

Message to the Faculty and Staff of the Hudson Community School District at the finish line of the 2025-2026 school year:

At the very beginning of this school year, we began a new journey together; and one that I promised would pass us by quickly. In that opening, I spoke of my own journey as a young teacher to the moment that led right up to the opening of the 2025-2026 school year. As is tradition at the beginning of each year, I offered you a theme, or hashtag, if you will, to be used to center our work together for the school year about to unfold. 

This year, I encouraged a spirit of collaboration: recognizing that our greatest strengths lie in our ability to work together to share our ideas, and to support one another through our successes and each hurdle that we encountered. The examples of collaboration that I have witnessed this year are too numerous to capture in this, my final message to you for the 2025-2026 school year. 

I asked you to foster a spirit of empathy-not just for our students but for one another. I have seen you wrap your arms around our students when they had no one else. I watched you stand in for your colleagues when they were experiencing difficulty. And I noticed when you stayed a little later in the afternoon to comfort a colleague who had a particularly rough day. 

You were challenged to embrace innovation. As our world changes, so too should our teaching practices. Through your innovative use of AI in the classroom, to the hard work needed for the implementation our scientifically based reading instruction. You were there for all of it. 

A little more than a week ago we sent off the Class of 2026 to take on the world. While they are at the starting gate of their journey, the advice I offered to them has echoes of what I shared with all of you at the start of this sojourn. To realize that every person you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. To understand that collaboration is the art of recognizing someone has a skill set that can complement the work you are doing and having the humility to ask for help. And to understand that we don’t merely need musicians who can play the notes on the page, but those who can compose a whole new symphony. 

So then, we find ourselves here today at the end of another chapter. Our students are now gone, likely already enjoying the childhood freedoms that come with the promise of summer. We are now putting our books on the shelves for one final time, and within a few short hours our hallways will grow quiet. 

However, it won’t be long before the page turns and we begin to write the opening sentences of the chapter that will become the 2026-2027 school year. Yet it will most certainly be different, because you see, some of those who read these words or gather for our year end celebration are doing so for their final time today. Indeed the close of this school year is an important milestone for some as they put those books back on the shelf one final time. Making the decision to retire is a difficult one. There are many mixed emotions, because on one hand you are not merely ending a chapter, but closing a book that has largely consumed entire working lives. As I told the Class of 2026, my hope is that you are able to look back fondly at your time in Hudson and are always able to call these hallways ‘home’. 

If you'll permit me, I'd like to offer just a few observations about our retirees. First, Laura Angove. With a personality that lights up the room, she was the first to announce her retirement at the beginning of the year. I know she is looking forward to spending time being a grandmother, and she just shared with me that number two on the way. Most of our junior staff know Mrs. Angove as the TAG Coordinator, but she served as a long time art teacher in the district, serving grades kindergarten all the way to seniors in high school. No matter what assignment I needed her for, she gladly accepted my challenge. It was just a few years back when we made the decision to overhaul and revamp our TAG program, moving it from a part time to full time position. I tapped Laura for this job and she took it on graciously. It was a year of hard work getting our program off the ground, but I am grateful Laura agreed to take it on. She has built a strong foundation on which the program will undoubtedly grow. 

Then there is Robert. A new grandparent in his own right, for Robert he just thought it was the right time. I remember distinctly when he told me that he was retiring. It definitively wasn't on my bingo card that he would be throwing in the towel at the end of the year. Fact of the matter was, the Friday before he came to see me we had a conversation about basketball and how he was looking forward to seeing his son coach that night. He dropped no hint of what he had in store. Classic Robert! Truth be told, he has been wise counsel to the entire district over the course of his career. I can say this with certainty: whenever Robert was in my office discussing an issue, we all listened carefully to what he had to say and heeded his advice. It was always correct. 

And now we come to Mrs. Dvorak. The final person to announce their retirement, I guess I shouldn't have been surprised, but I really was. You see, Chris had dropped some hints over the last couple of years and I knew it was coming-but the fact is it still took my breath away. I know Chris is looking forward to spending more time with her husband Barry who also recently retired from UNI. When most people think of Chris, my guess is what comes to mind is an orderly classroom that is very well managed. That is undoubtedly true. Yet, when I consider the depth of Mrs. Dvorak's contributions, I think of the passion she has for our veterans and those who have put themselves in harms way in service to our country. Her annual Pirate Term project of creating stationary for our overseas servicemembers is incredibly touching and become one of my favorites. I do hope someone picks up the mantle next year. 

So then, congratulations to Laura Angove, Robert Driscol, and Chris Dvorak on your retirement. You have spent your working lives preparing for this moment and you deserve it. I am happy for you as you embark on your next great adventure. It has been a tremendous honor getting to know you and work with you. I wish you fair winds and following seas. You have served us well and we are better because of your contributions. 

Superintendent's Message to the Class of 2026: In the Blink of an Eye

Good afternoon to the Hudson High School Class of 2026. On behalf of the Board of Directors, I would like to congratulate you; and welcome all the parents, grandparents and other guests who have taken time to join us today as we celebrate your graduation from high school. 

These past few weeks, days, and even moments have been filled with both reflection and anticipation. Together we’ve looked back at the odyssey that brought you to this moment. At times, I trust you have thought this journey has felt like an eternity; and based on your life experience can make no argument with that sentiment. As 18-year-olds, this school has been at the center of your life. For 13 years in fact, most of what you have experienced has centered largely on what happens within the confines of this institution we hope you will always consider home. It’s all you have ever known. Yet it is but a fraction of what you are yet to experience. For the rest of us, this time has passed in the blink of an eye. You may not see it now, but someday you will. 

If you will indulge me, I would like to take you back. Back to the twilight of summer: 2013. Your parents were preparing to send you off to kindergarten. A youngster of compulsory age, 5 years old and ready to start your first experience with formal schooling. As you walked to the front door of the elementary across the street; with a backpack strapped on that in most cases was bigger than you were, your little hearts were beating with anticipation of what was to come. A few short yards away (much like today in fact), your mom and dad’s heart was breaking just a little bit when they gave you a hug, and with tears in their eyes let you go. Through the door you came and in the blink of an eye a 13-year adventure was underway.

Now, I’ve never wanted to be a kindergarten teacher, because; well let’s face it: It’s a lot. Yes, you were a lot! It takes a very special kind of person to teach kindergarteners all day long! Tying shoes. Wiping noses. Zipping coats. Lining up for recess. Everything was new and required lots of practice, repetition, and patience. There are a lot of firsts during kindergarten. Riding a school bus. Going through lunch line. Music. Art. PE. Routines. In retrospect, in addition to learning the basics of reading and math, a lot of time is spent just simply learning how to go to school and get along well with peers. 

Granted, much of what you learn in school is measured by grades, credit and exams. But as you step out and beyond these walls, the most vital skill you carry isn’t what is found in the textbooks that follow those years after kindergarten. It is in the quiet, transformative power of empathy and those foundational skills you learned back in 2013. To be empathetic is to look at a stranger and recognize part of yourself in their struggle. It’s the realization that every person you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Yes, having the courage to pause your own story long enough to truly listen to someone else’s. We live in a world that often prizes individual achievement. I hope you choose a different metric for success. One rooted in the skills learned so long ago in kindergarten. Take turns. Listen to one another. Learning to share. Play by the rules. Lose gracefully.

Another blink of an eye and it’s 2019. You are now in the 6th grade. To you, it’s been an eternity; but at this point you just are at the mid-point of your formal schooling. By now the routines of school are second nature. You’ve moved on from learning to read to reading to learn. Perhaps you’ve grown fond of non-fiction, fantasy, or adventure. In math the distributive process is a skill that is mastered, and in science we come to understand the scientific method. 

In these middle years we watched you move from the ‘me’ to the ‘we’. You began to realize that collaboration is the art of recognizing that your classmate has a skill, and having the humility to ask for their help. It’s been about the friction that happens when two ideas rub together to create something better. You learned that the strongest bridge isn’t made from a single stone, but of many; leaning on one another for support. 

As Mrs. Christopher reminded you of two weeks ago, we cannot forget to mention the most profound of experiences: the pandemic. When we left for spring break we had no idea that would mark the end of the school year. Instead of a crowded hallway, you suddenly became a grid of boxes on a screen. The friction of ideas rubbing together had to happen through microphones and chat bars, and that 6th grade bridge of support was suddenly stretched across miles of social distancing. You learned that collaboration isn’t tied to a physical classroom—it is the commitment to stay connected when staying apart is the only option. 

Almost an entire quarter of the school year was lost, but of course the sun rose on a new school year. You had seen the world break, and decided you were the ones who knew how to fix it. 

And yet, once again in the blink of an eye, it’s 2023. You are now a sophomore in high school. You can now see that the end is in sight. This. Now this is a pivotal year in your journey. The content is becoming more complex. Perhaps its Algebra II, Spanish or government. But it’s also agriculture, choir and theater. You are beginning to really figure out who you are, and what you want to do with your life. The skills you learned in elementary school are now being refined and expanded. Your thinking is becoming much more complex and you are tasked with solving complicated problems. And of course, that first touch of freedom comes when you earn your driver’s license. Now, you don’t have to rely on mom and dad to get you to and from school. Play dates are now replaced with homecoming dates.

By now, you are no longer merely seeking the answer, but asking; Why? And, how can we make it better? We begin to see you take calculated risks through innovation. You are moving beyond the past—to drafting the future. Believe this: the world doesn’t just need people who can play the notes on the page; it needs people like you who can compose a whole new melody. As you leave us today, don’t simply look for an open door—build one where a wall once stood. This is what you learned in high school!

So, now we arrive finally at today. With another blink of the eye, we find ourselves here on May 17, 2026. Your graduation day. In just a few short moments when you cross this stage and receive your diploma our 13-year journey together will conclude—in the blink of an eye. Much like that first day of kindergarten, I suspect once again tears will be shed. But now, much stronger hearts beat, not of anticipation but in determination to face the great unknown that you are now entering.

The empathy of your early childhood, the collaboration of those middle school years, and the innovation of your youth are meant to be an internal compass that will guide you through a world that is often unpredictable. You see, empathy without innovation is a wish; innovation without empathy is merely an invention. But when you combine the heart with care, the humility to work together, and the courage to create something new? That is when you become unstoppable. You aren’t just leaving here with a diploma. You are leaving with a blueprint for a life of fulfillment and happiness.

As you walk across this stage and through that doorway one final time the next chapter is up to you. My challenge is simple. Don’t outgrow the best parts of your younger selves. When the world gets loud, return to the kindness of kindergarten. When a problem feels too heavy to carry on your own, reach out for the partner you found in 6th grade. And when you see a wall that everyone else says is permanent, remember when you learned how to go through it anyway. Class of 2026, we live in unsettled times. The world doesn’t just need your talent, we need your humanity. So, go out there—and build something beautiful.

Congratulations!