Alan Hester
Features Editor

Given thirty year’s time, I hope to accomplish more than a few things: win the Pulitzer and/or the Nobel Peace Prize (both would be fine too!); join the Peace Corps and end world hunger; win American Idol and beat out Mariah Carey and the Beatles for the most number one hits; invent the cure for AIDs and Cancer; of course become President of the United States. It takes a certain kind of person be able to juggle all of these things, but I’m confident that I’ll accomplish one (if not all) of them given thirty years.

Now, in no way do I plan I seeing this through alone—that would be foolish to think! I’ll have a great many servants, mentors, and cohorts alike to guide me, and if I want to meet one or more of these goals before I graduate from college then I’ll need to take advantage of all the help available to me—so I’ll look to a few college professors for the time being…

In all reality, these goals are near implausible, but such things (and the fact that students fathomed like so) were the driving forces for people like Steve Severin. Not to suggest that people like Mr. Severin were struck with naivety, but people like Mr. Severin thrive off of students’ high goals. Furthermore, pigeonholing Mr. Severin—even in this category of student influencers—is near impossible. Mr. Severin’s last thirty years of his life were spent teaching at KCC, and “teaching” would be an understatement.

Steve Severin didn’t just teach—he was the lesson. Taking a class with Mr. Severin was like sitting down for a cup of coffee and having a philosophical conversation one-on-one; it was like driving an off-road buggy 70 mph through unpredictable sand dunes; it was like falling down the White Rabbit’s hole, and getting caught up in conversation about the tunnel’s intriguing dirt-wall hieroglyphics, before even hitting the bottom. Mr. Severin’s classes were a world of themselves.

“Essentially, [Mr. Severin] was what he taught,” explains Courtney Young, a student at KCC and a student of Mr. Severin. “He had plenty of experience in different cultures, [and] he had a very high knowledge of different societies. For me, when I had Sociology, this made the class easier to understand.”In his thirty years of service at KCC, Mr. Severin only took a total of two summers off. One of which was by near force of math instructor and close friend of Mr. Severin, Sue Stetler.

“I told Steve that he needed a break,” says Ms. Stetler, “I asked him: ‘Steve, when do you stop thinking? Do you sleep?’” She explains his response, “Steve said: ‘Actually, Susie, I don’t sleep that much!’” His mental gears were always turning.

Mr. Severin expressed this well in the classroom, for he never “lectured.” Mr. Severin invited students into his mind, all the while allowing a student the freedom to explore their inner psyches. Although I’m only eighteen years old, I thought myself as pretty grounded in my beliefs. In my one class with Mr. Severin, he had me uprooted within the second week. I have no problem admitting this. Mr. Severin broadened and validated the vision I had for my beliefs.

Students who Mr. Severin had a similar effect upon were never in short supply. Courtney Young also had a sociology class with Mr. Severin.

“A lot of teachers love to poke-and-prod a student’s head to try to get them to think,” Courtney says, “but Steve was one who not only made students think about the answers, but he also conjured more questions to help students think about further aspects of the situation.”

His lessons were indeed just that: lessons. I’ve had many classes where the desks, chalkboard, (and sometimes even the instructor) were mere props in some sick-minded production, and the entire class was regurgitated from the $80.00 text book. The price of the book was the easy part—it was the ruthlessly droning lectures that were merciless. Mr. Severin didn’t need a book to teach, because all of his teaching was done through a student/instructor interaction. That’s why the community college experience suited Mr. Severin so well. The built relationships were the essence of Mr. Severin.
“Past students would call Steve back and let them know how their life has progressed,” says Ms. Stetler, “because Steve made that much of an impact upon them. That’s what Steve lived for: launching students into an unforgettable lifelong journey with unforgettable lessons.”

Past students weren’t the only ones making phone calls, either. I remember my first unit exam with Mr. Severin—he warned us that it wouldn’t be easy. Right under our name, we were to write down our phone number, class section, and e-mail address. To be perfectly honest, I almost didn’t put anything besides my name, but I eventually conceded. It was over the weekend, in the middle of the day and on my way to work, that I received a phone call from an unfamiliar number. I answered with trepidation, and there on the other end was Mr. Severin.

“Hello?” I said reluctantly.

“Hi! Alan?” was the man’s response. I replied, again reluctantly, “yes?”

This is Mr. Severin!” he said, “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing well,” I responded, not so reluctantly now, “How are you?”

“I’m good too,” Mr. Severin said, “I just wanted to call and let you know how well you did on the unit exam. You scored in the top three percent. I’m really proud of you, Alan. Keep up the good work.”

It was the first and only phone call that I had received from an instructor at KCC. Had someone asked me prior to Mr. Severin’s call if I’d have considered such a situation weird and awkward, the reply would without a doubt have been “yes.” However, ever since Mr. Severin took the time and effort to call and compliment me, my respect for him, and any other teacher who is that dedicated, has spiked to an unfaltering height.

As just one student who has felt the Steve Severin-effect, I know that there is thirty-year’s worth of Mr. Severin’s impact. In this way, Mr. Severin’s passing isn’t a passing at all. Numerous students who have been positively impacted by Mr. Severin and his lessons continue to pay it forward. In no way can something like that die.

Ms. Stetler explains an exercise that Mr. Severin advocated in his education classes: “Steve would have his students purchase a Hallmark card—preferably a ‘Thank You’ card—and have them send it to a past teacher that had a positive influence upon them.”

After her close friend and colleague introduced her to this exercise, Ms. Stetler uses the same less in her elementary math class, again proving the teaching legacy of Mr. Severin.

As for myself, I already have an envelope postmarked to him. The address was the trickiest, because Mr. Severin isn’t in just one place—his lessons are everywhere. Even if I don’t win the Nobel or Pulitzer prize, find the cure for cancer or AIDs, end world hunger while in the Peace Corps, win American Idol, or become president anytime soon, I know that I can send out my Hallmark card to him whenever I so choose. For he has evoked the kind of drive that it takes to attain such goals, not just in me, but many others, and that in itself is essentially Steve Severin.

Donations can be made to the Steven R. Severin Memorial Scholarship.

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