Everlasting Gifts from Kathy Galvin

One of the gifts we receive from great teachers is that they continue to teach their students, even when they are separated by time and space; they continue to impact our lives. Their lessons become an integral part of our being. They are always with us. 

There is no one for whom this is truer than Kathleen Galvin. I met Kathy my sophomore year at Northwestern when I enrolled in Speech Teaching Methods class. I thought I might want to be a high school teacher. I thought I might want to be many things. I was a nineteen-year-old: part adult, part adolescent, part toddler, and part explorer. 

I found myself in a seminar room in the basement of Harris Hall with two dynamic professors: Pam Cooper and Kathy Galvin. They really had one name: PamandKathy. We sat in a circle and they guided us through far more than pedagogy and curriculum. They modeled how good teachers, good adults, and good people act. They overlooked our immaturity and gently guided us. They taught us to think like educators. They modeled phenomenal teaching and remarkable caring. 

With humor, creativity, and mountains of patience, they firmly and expertly helped us learn about communication, family dynamics, child development – and ourselves. They insisted we become outstanding learners and leaders – and, most difficult for me, listeners. 

They practiced what they professed. Every lesson worked on two levels: the content, of course, and the modeling from Pam and Kathy. Not every professor is a great teacher. Kathy and Pam were virtuoso teachers, pitch-perfect. 

Throughout my almost thirty-four years in the classroom, I lost track of the times I consciously thought, “What would Kathy do?” or “How would Kathy respond?” Over and over, I brought myself back to that seminar room and I recharged my patience and perspective. 

Pam and Kathy got me through a tumultuous student teaching experience. My cooperating teacher was magnificent and a fantastic role model. However, his mother became ill shortly after I arrived and he left for Florida for several weeks. I was on my own and way over my head. Kathy and Pam’s quiet and steady guidance helped me to thrive and learn to navigate solo in the classroom.

Whenever Kathy called me, I knew it was going to be life-changing. She called to tell me about a summer job at a prep school in New Hampshire, which started me on the path of teaching television, and eventually starting at TV class at my school a few years later. She called and told me about a job opening, which started an intense reflection of what I wanted to do and where I wanted to teach. When I decided to stay at my school and change positions, I called Kathy and she recommended my replacement!

Kathy guided my master’s process. Her family communications class not only helped me understand and empathize with my own family but also gave me new insight into hers. Kathy came and spoke to my wife’s professional group, the Lake County Counselors Association about the changing roles of parents in college. I remember Kathy going way beyond discussing helicopter parents and talking about attack and rescue helicopter parents. 

Even years after college, Kathy was still my teacher. I worked with student teachers and Kathy came to Deerfield and coached our pre-service teacher and me. The more time I spent with Kathy, the more I grew. Many years ago, we started having yearly summer lunches together. We shared what was happening personally and professionally.

When we had lunch the last time, I thought about all the students who had studied in that seminar room in Harris Hall - and other places. Many of us are teachers. Many of us have been teaching twenty, thirty- or more years. 

Our students are Kathy’s grand-students. Kathy’s legacy goes way beyond the people who studied with her. She was with me in the classroom every day. I have taught about Virginia Satir’s mobile, used cartoons to teach about communication, and tried to do my best Kathy Galvin impression when that talkative, awkward, slightly irritating, adolescent sidles his way into my room. 

And I kept calling Kathy for booster shots. Thank goodness I am retired. 

There is no way to quantify the gifts Kathy gave me, Northwestern, and the countless students who read her books, studied with her students, listened to her lessons, or were fortunate enough to share a lesson with her. 

Just before the pandemic, Kathy became ill and we could not see one another. Yet, truly, she is sitting beside me. In my teaching, parenting, and pursuit of all that is precious and beautiful, Kathy will continue to be my guide. I am so grateful I got to tell her this at her retirement party just before the pandemic. I just wish we could share retirement.