Lainey Tuthill is ready. Not just for graduation, or for move-in day in Urbana-Champaign—but for the long arc of a life in education.

She’s headed to the University of Illinois, where she’ll major in English, with her eyes set firmly on a future as a high school or college English teacher. It's a decision formed not from family tradition—she’s not from a line of teachers—but from something much more personal: the example set by the people who taught her.

“It’s the teachers here,” she says, simply. “This is all I’ve ever known—this place, these people. And I’ve had a few who made me want to be that kind of person for someone else.”

Lainey is soft-spoken, but not unsure. She’s a deep thinker, a strong writer, and a self-described perfectionist. “I’ve always been the A+ student,” she says. “AP classes, dual credit—anything I could do to push myself, I’ve done it.”

That drive has earned her Illinois State Scholar honors, a 4.0 GPA, and a seat in AP Calculus (where, on the day of her interview, she’s excused from class to prep for a mock exam). But her success has never been about outpacing others. It’s about reaching the bar her older sister, Alexa, set—and then gently raising it for herself.

“She’s the math one,” Lainey says. “I’m the English one.”

And English is where she thrives. She loves literature, writing, the rhythms of language. Ask her a question and she’ll answer with thoughtfulness and clarity, often pausing to find the exact phrase—not because she’s unsure, but because she knows words matter.

She’s also spent the last four years as a student-athlete, playing volleyball in the fall and basketball in the winter. But for Lainey, athletics aren’t a spotlight—they’re a “cool down,” a chance to switch gears and decompress from the demands of school.

“I’m not chasing a D1 dream,” she says with a laugh. “I love the game, but it’s more about balance. It’s fun. It’s the thing I get to enjoy when the work is done.”

That work, though, isn’t just about GPA. It’s about reflection. Maturity. Choosing deliberately.

She considered Illinois State University, well-known for its teaching program, and was offered scholarships there. But in the end, it was U of I that called to her—because her sister had gone, because her heart felt settled there, and because she didn’t want to live with the question, what if?

“Even though it’s more expensive, I know I’ll cherish it in the long run,” she says. “It’s where I’m supposed to be.”

But before she leaves, Lainey is doing something many seniors wrestle with—she’s learning to appreciate the place she once couldn’t wait to leave.

“There were times when I felt trapped here,” she says. “Everyone knows you. You do one thing and someone three blocks away hears about it. But now, as I get closer to leaving, I see it differently. It’s kind of a blessing.”

She’s come to understand that small towns remember you—not just your name, but your story. And in Knoxville, hers is a story supported by teachers like Ms. Schaefer, who challenged her to grow, and Mrs. Neal-Nelson, who offered her a safe place to land on the hard days.

“Ms. Schaefer made me feel seen,” Lainey says. “She adjusted for every student. She knew what we were capable of—and made sure we got there.”

And of Mrs. Neal-Nelson, she says simply, “She’s like a second mom. Someone I could trust with anything.”

It’s these relationships that have formed the blueprint for the kind of teacher Lainey wants to become—someone who listens, pushes, inspires.

“I think teachers are the foundation,” she says. “They’re the ones who teach everyone else how to be great. And that’s what I want to be part of.”

So, in a few short months, Lainey Tuthill will pack her bags, say goodbye to her familiar streets, and head off to campus.

But every page of her next chapter still traces back to the same place.

Because before the lectures, before the lesson plans, before the classroom door clicks shut for the first time with her name on the outside—a teacher is made somewhere.

And for Lainey, it all began in Knoxville.