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“I am YME. Like it or not, dude,” says Yellow Medicine East Paraprofes-sional Ben Lecy with a wise-cracker chuckle.
Governor Mark Dayton has declared it Paraprofes-sional Recognition Week for the week of January 16; creating an excuse to talk to YME’s biggest cheerleader as he represents the high school’s 15 paraprofessionals.
It’s Friday night, school’s out on a long weekend and Ben’s about to play bass with a rock/country trio for a raucous and rowdy crowd at Bootlegger’s. He’s traded in his work week t-shirt and jeans for; well, a long-sleeve t-shirt and jeans. And, like always, he’s animated, talks fast and laughs often.
He’s almost a cliche of the hip teacher from 90s era teen dramas and comedys. The young teacher that wears a leather jacket and drives a motorcycle to school, that plays in a rock band at night and teaches Shakespeare during the day. The one with the long hair that sits on top of his desk while teaching—not behind it—or talks to students from a backwards facing chair. The one that takes an interest in the loveable scamp from the broken home; living on the wrong side of the streets—and teaches the wayward youth to follow their dreams. Throw in a dash of goofy and then steep it in a strong brew of Echo charm and that’s pretty much Ben.
What separates Ben from that cliche, however, is a shear nutty and infectious enthusiasm that charges him and seemingly everyone around him: an infectious fever of excitement. Ben bounces down the halls of YME charging the air with his energy; zapping students and staff with greetings and one-liners.
“There’s never been a day I didn’t want to go,” Ben says about his work. “I hear people say ‘Ohhhhh, I’ve got to go to work’ and I’m like, ‘Wwwwhooo, I get to go to work’, I’m just jacked up about it.”
It’s either a gift or a disorder, says Ben.
To this, YME staff would not comment, but they have speculated. Lead Special Education Teacher, Sheila Koepke, says. “Oh, you know Ben. He’s still the same. Always in a good mood. He’s goofy. He jabbers and runs around. But he really takes kids at face value for who they are... A lot of the students we work with, school isn’t always an enjoyable or easy place for them to be. He makes it fun for them. He makes it easier.”
Ben and the other paraprofessionals work in a variety of roles assisting both students and teachers. But Ben finds his main role easy to define:
“Am I making a difference in their lives?,” says Ben of the students he comes in contact with. “Am I making some kid want to come to school just so they can have a laugh with Ben? A good, healthy, innocent laugh about something that makes them feel good about themselves. That’s gold to me.”
He was raised along the river bottom, he says. And he graduated from Echo High School in 1976. He knew then school was where he wanted to be.
“Honest as the day is long, when I graduated from high school in 1976, I said I will come back somewhere in education,” says Ben. “I absolutely loved it, it was the greatest time in my life. Here’s how sick I am: At Echo, if you missed less then 10 days throughout the school year, or were tardy less than four times your senior year—you got the last two weeks off. I missed two days and was never tardy. And I still went the last two weeks just because I liked it. If I told the kids that I work with that, they would say ‘that confirms it, he’s nuts’.”
Nuttier than fruitcake, but fun.
“I say this a lot,” begins Ben. “I’m just Ben. It’s a packaged deal. The school gets a packaged deal. There’s flaws in the package, but I think it’s important for kids to know there are adults out there that can relate to their level not just say, ‘yeah, I’ve been through that’, but truely relate to their life. That doesn’t come all that easy sometimes.”
He listens to everything the kids say, he finds himself watching T.V. at home and searching out the shows they talk about. He finds himself asking ‘Who’s Snooki?’. He stays current to keep the kids feeling comfortable around him. And he takes the time to build relationships.
That’s when things get tough. Relationships can be painful at times.
“There’s sad times too,” says Ben reflectively. “When students die. I have kids that I’ve worked with that are in lock-up and not getting out in a long time. You’ve got kids that I’ve worked with who are dead, they’re not coming back to Granite to hang out. But I’ve also got kids who are doctors and lawyers and hard working people that have wives and families and are dedicated to that. So I guess you take that good with the bad. You might not like that, but you have to accept it.”
In 2008, Sgt. First Class Matthew Ryan Kahler was killed in Afghanistan. He and Ben had become close when Kahler was a student at YME.
“I remember when Boss died, when Matthew Ryan Kahler passed away. He was a dear friend. Honest to God he was one of my best friends. I was the individual who really spent time with Matt wanting him to go 82nd Airborne in the United States Army. He wanted to meet people, I had some friends around here who had been in the military and jumped out of perfectly good airplanes. He wanted to meet them and I did that...”
Ben takes a pause.
“I miss him. But that made me really refocus what I do. I told myself that this is what I need to do. It’s not what I want to do, but what I need to do. So I just go after that every day.”
Bouncing down the halls of YME, playing the friend or the fool; Ben just does what he needs to do and is who he is.
“I absolutely love the people I work with. The kids are the greatest. Even when they’re not the most fun to hang out with I still love the daylights out of them. And I absolutely work with the greatest people in the world. The staff at [YME] from Administration, to every teacher, all of the other [peraprofessionals], to the janitors, the cooks, to all the bus drivers—they’re absolutely awesome. There’s not one person who doesn’t care every inch of the way. That’s a great feeling to get there in the morning and know they care as much as you do.
That’s worth getting up in the morning for.”
“I am YME. Like it or not, dude,” says Yellow Medicine East Paraprofes-sional Ben Lecy with a wise-cracker chuckle.
Governor Mark Dayton has declared it Paraprofes-sional Recognition Week for the week of January 16; creating an excuse to talk to YME’s biggest cheerleader as he represents the high school’s 15 paraprofessionals.
It’s Friday night, school’s out on a long weekend and Ben’s about to play bass with a rock/country trio for a raucous and rowdy crowd at Bootlegger’s. He’s traded in his work week t-shirt and jeans for; well, a long-sleeve t-shirt and jeans. And, like always, he’s animated, talks fast and laughs often.
He’s almost a cliche of the hip teacher from 90s era teen dramas and comedys. The young teacher that wears a leather jacket and drives a motorcycle to school, that plays in a rock band at night and teaches Shakespeare during the day. The one with the long hair that sits on top of his desk while teaching—not behind it—or talks to students from a backwards facing chair. The one that takes an interest in the loveable scamp from the broken home; living on the wrong side of the streets—and teaches the wayward youth to follow their dreams. Throw in a dash of goofy and then steep it in a strong brew of Echo charm and that’s pretty much Ben.
What separates Ben from that cliche, however, is a shear nutty and infectious enthusiasm that charges him and seemingly everyone around him: an infectious fever of excitement. Ben bounces down the halls of YME charging the air with his energy; zapping students and staff with greetings and one-liners.
“There’s never been a day I didn’t want to go,” Ben says about his work. “I hear people say ‘Ohhhhh, I’ve got to go to work’ and I’m like, ‘Wwwwhooo, I get to go to work’, I’m just jacked up about it.”
It’s either a gift or a disorder, says Ben.
To this, YME staff would not comment, but they have speculated. Lead Special Education Teacher, Sheila Koepke, says. “Oh, you know Ben. He’s still the same. Always in a good mood. He’s goofy. He jabbers and runs around. But he really takes kids at face value for who they are... A lot of the students we work with, school isn’t always an enjoyable or easy place for them to be. He makes it fun for them. He makes it easier.”
Ben and the other paraprofessionals work in a variety of roles assisting both students and teachers. But Ben finds his main role easy to define:
“Am I making a difference in their lives?,” says Ben of the students he comes in contact with. “Am I making some kid want to come to school just so they can have a laugh with Ben? A good, healthy, innocent laugh about something that makes them feel good about themselves. That’s gold to me.”
He was raised along the river bottom, he says. And he graduated from Echo High School in 1976. He knew then school was where he wanted to be.
“Honest as the day is long, when I graduated from high school in 1976, I said I will come back somewhere in education,” says Ben. “I absolutely loved it, it was the greatest time in my life. Here’s how sick I am: At Echo, if you missed less then 10 days throughout the school year, or were tardy less than four times your senior year—you got the last two weeks off. I missed two days and was never tardy. And I still went the last two weeks just because I liked it. If I told the kids that I work with that, they would say ‘that confirms it, he’s nuts’.”
Nuttier than fruitcake, but fun.
“I say this a lot,” begins Ben. “I’m just Ben. It’s a packaged deal. The school gets a packaged deal. There’s flaws in the package, but I think it’s important for kids to know there are adults out there that can relate to their level not just say, ‘yeah, I’ve been through that’, but truely relate to their life. That doesn’t come all that easy sometimes.”
He listens to everything the kids say, he finds himself watching T.V. at home and searching out the shows they talk about. He finds himself asking ‘Who’s Snooki?’. He stays current to keep the kids feeling comfortable around him. And he takes the time to build relationships.
That’s when things get tough. Relationships can be painful at times.
“There’s sad times too,” says Ben reflectively. “When students die. I have kids that I’ve worked with that are in lock-up and not getting out in a long time. You’ve got kids that I’ve worked with who are dead, they’re not coming back to Granite to hang out. But I’ve also got kids who are doctors and lawyers and hard working people that have wives and families and are dedicated to that. So I guess you take that good with the bad. You might not like that, but you have to accept it.”
In 2008, Sgt. First Class Matthew Ryan Kahler was killed in Afghanistan. He and Ben had become close when Kahler was a student at YME.
“I remember when Boss died, when Matthew Ryan Kahler passed away. He was a dear friend. Honest to God he was one of my best friends. I was the individual who really spent time with Matt wanting him to go 82nd Airborne in the United States Army. He wanted to meet people, I had some friends around here who had been in the military and jumped out of perfectly good airplanes. He wanted to meet them and I did that...”
Ben takes a pause.
“I miss him. But that made me really refocus what I do. I told myself that this is what I need to do. It’s not what I want to do, but what I need to do. So I just go after that every day.”
Bouncing down the halls of YME, playing the friend or the fool; Ben just does what he needs to do and is who he is.
“I absolutely love the people I work with. The kids are the greatest. Even when they’re not the most fun to hang out with I still love the daylights out of them. And I absolutely work with the greatest people in the world. The staff at [YME] from Administration, to every teacher, all of the other [peraprofessionals], to the janitors, the cooks, to all the bus drivers—they’re absolutely awesome. There’s not one person who doesn’t care every inch of the way. That’s a great feeling to get there in the morning and know they care as much as you do.
That’s worth getting up in the morning for.”
