Sean was LM. He was the foundation of what makes this place special. He believed that the kids come first. That they should understand the “why” in their learning. That they should look out for and care for each other. His mantra of “Character Counts” is something that he lived by. All the high praise since his passing are not exaggerations. He was that person through and through. To so many students, he was that guy that made their day a little better. The students knew he cared, that he was genuine. But to me, he was simply my friend. Sean was like a brother to me. I don’t say that lightly. And that is why this hurts so much. For 24 of my 27 years here at LM, Sean has been the person I spent the most time with. He has been there for every major event in that time. Even now, after his death, a day has not gone by where I wanted to call or text or email something to him. An idea, a story, a complaint. That void is something that will remain forever.
Sean was compulsively organized. His office was immaculate. He took pleasure in cleaning and organizing things. I used to move things on his desk and get a chuckle watching him move them back without saying anything. He would line the chairs up after every Faculty Council meeting in the conference room before leaving. I am the opposite, as many reading this know. I am unorganized, and I do not clean that well or that often. After one summer many years ago, I entered the old main gym to start girls’ preseason volleyball. I opened the volleyball closet to find it completely clean and organized. I knew right away who to call. The conversation went something like this:
“Did you clean the volleyball closet?”
“Yes, it was disgusting.”
“I can’t find my college and club jerseys.”
“I threw them out, they were disgusting too.”
“But they were my …”
“You’re a slob.”
One year, I convinced Sean to teach a class with me. I told him that he had been out of the classroom too long and needed to reconnect with teaching. The class was Art and Modern Culture—best described as a deconstruction of teenage consumerism. He researched topics and came to class with a background like the History teacher he used to be. It drove him crazy when I would change the topic or take the class in a different direction than what he planned. Nonetheless, the addition of his organization and research made that class one of my favorites in my career. It is a memory that I will always cherish. It is because of that experience that I continue to advocate for team-taught classes.
I am not a religious person. Sean was. He was Catholic and leaned on his faith a lot. Did you know Sean wanted to become a priest? At the end of his senior year in high school, his mom drove him to St. Charles Seminary and dropped him off for a weekend orientation. He spent the weekend learning about the process on how to become a priest. When he got home Sunday night and hung out with some friends, he heard about their weekend of going to a U2 concert and having a great time. He decided he didn’t want to be a priest any more.
Sean never let go of the thing that led him to consider priesthood. The calling of service to others. I think as LM Principal he demonstrated that regularly.
As I write, I am missing my friend so very much. I know my life and the lives of many at LM will never be the same. And I wouldn’t want them to be.
