Gobert's goodbye sparks memory of tearful decision

From years of casual observation, I've come to the realization that being a school administrator is not unlike being a small-town mayor or newspaper editor.

You're always on duty. You're the principal, the mayor or the newspaper editor 24/7 and 365.

You end up making more decisions than an air traffic controller. And while you may not be landing planes, you are dealing with your own brand of passengers.

All this comes to mind today with word that Shawn Gobert is leaving school administration behind after 17 years. The Greencastle School Board approved his resignation Thursday afternoon (see story, Page 1).

Having known Shawn Gobert since he was a teenager, it has been interesting watching him grow into his position.

Years ago I trusted him enough to hand over my old Moose Babe Ruth baseball team to Shawn and Jim Spencer, both budding coaches, leaders and educators back in the day.

Having been in his buildings at both the Greencastle Middle School and Ridpath Primary School for both business and personal reasons, I've always enjoyed how good he has been with the students.

A couple of years ago for a back-to-school story I visited a rejuvenated Ridpath and ended up mesmerized watching Gobert interact.

As he made the rounds to say hello to staff and students on Day 1, one little guy announced, "Hey, you're our principal" as Gobert entered a kindergarten classroom.

Gobert laughed, explaining how he kept a list on his Blackberry of the names students misused in addressing him.

He's been called Mr. Gopher, Mr. Grover and even Mr. Yogurt -- yet he answered to all of them.

Gobert also related that getting a hug from a student never failed to move him.

"That last kid who hugged me?" he pointed out, "he was the first kid I disciplined last year."

In his first year at Ridpath back then, following his middle school tenure, Gobert had to take the boy aside to tell him to sit still in class, pay attention to his teacher and not disrupt others.

"He reached out and hugged me," Gobert said. "I thought right then, 'Wow, eighth-graders don't do that.'"

But sixth-graders can cry, and that's where my life intersected with that of Shawn Gobert.

It's a story I've never shared here but I think it says a lot about the man, his decision-making and his concern for kids.

My youngest daughter Nicole, now 32 (although that doesn't seem humanly possible to me), was a GMS sixth-grader and Gobert was her swim coach.

The GMS swim team was wrapping up its season, heading for an invitational meet which required fewer team members than usual, and Gobert decided to go with all eighth-graders.

That's when I got a pre-emptive strike of a phone call from him. "I made your daughter cry," he informed me that afternoon while explaining his decision to exclude sixth- and seventh-graders from the invitational event.

Made perfect sense to me, I assured him, knowing from my time as a youth sports coach that all decisions can't be popular and team sports certainly are not a democracy.

Of course, he was the first to remind me that it was my daughter who had raised her hand and volunteered to swim the dreaded 400 freestyle (aka 16 lengths of the pool) when no one else on the team would. Hey, she certainly didn't get that gumption from her dad, who might be able to swim that far if his life depended on it and the pool was on fire and full of sharks and Farrah Fawcett was sitting at the end of the pool in that posterized red swimsuit.

Later that evening I heard the same story through the tears of a 12-year-old. Trying to console her and remind her it was the coach's decision, she blubbered, "I hate Mr. Gobert."

The next afternoon at work, I got another phone call.

It was again Shawn Gobert.

"I've been thinking ..." I remember him starting the conversation.

He was apparently moved to change his mind, not by a few tears from a little redhead but by having his eyes opened at how important it really was to her and the realization her efforts should be rewarded for taking on something no one else would do.

Yep, he tossed aside the logic of his eighth-graders-only plan and let Nicole and another sixth-grader swim.

It's not easy to reverse a decision like that, and I've always admired his candor about it.

A little redhead's eyes still sparkle when reminded about those long-ago circumstances.

And to this day, despite a teary episode, Shawn Gobert stands as one of her favorite teachers.

Here's doubting she's alone in that.