The Man, The Myth, The Huuuuuuughes
My senior year of high school was one of the most memorable years of my life. I was a three-sport athlete, a spirit committee head, and a member of student government. I spent a lot of time in Mr. Hughes’s office. It was tucked right between the library and the main gym, and a convenient pit stop on the trek back to class from the cafeteria. The “old” LM was a really special place.
Each visit to Hughes’s office was filled with equal parts enthusiasm and sarcasm. His ability to connect with the high school population was unmatched; he encouraged our efforts in athletics, extracurriculars, and academics alike, while humoring our drama and taking time to help us navigate some of the most challenging years of our lives.
One of my more memorable visits to Hughes’s office was in my senior year after our basketball state playoff run had come to an end. I stopped by his office just to unpack the emotions. After spending the entirety of my free period in his office, I told him I had to go take a Gov test. He looked at me and said, “You can’t take a test right now. Are you kidding me? Let me make a call.” That was Hughes. He understood, he cared, and he advocated.
It’s hard to articulate the type of person that Mr. Hughes was, because he was an extraordinary human. He exceeded his role as teacher, as administrator, as colleague, and as friend. He had a way of making every student and staff member alike feel valued; he was everyone’s champion. He listened and honored the thoughts and ideas of others; he made people feel heard. Hughes had a special way of staying connected with former students, and showed genuine interest in their lives beyond the years spent at 315 E. Montgomery Avenue. Hughes set a standard that, quite frankly, is unachievable by most. And while it’s impossible to imagine an LM without Hughes, he has left a legacy that will impact generations of Aces to come. His character was one that not only counted, but one that others will count on forever.
