Step into the Knoxville High School office on any given day and you’ll witness a quiet miracle in motion. Phones ringing. Doors opening. Students needing bandages, answers, and advice. Teachers swinging by with urgent requests. Athletic forms, class rosters, attendance calls. Amid it all are Sandy Pemberton and Sonya Jones—and not one single thing gets dropped.

Together, they operate as a seamless team, so synced up that they can finish each other’s sentences or signal next moves with a glance. “We’re kind of like Lennon and McCartney,” someone jokes during the interview. And it fits. There’s harmony. Rhythm. Trust.

Sandy has been in the district for 14 years, starting at the junior high before transitioning to the high school. “I was hired one day,” she recalls, “and the woman training me decided a couple days later that she was retiring. She wanted to travel. So off she went. And there I was.”

Trial by fire, yes. But she had help—principals who supported her, secretaries from other buildings who stepped up. And she had grit.

Today, Sandy is the central nervous system of the high school office. She tracks student absences, fields endless phone calls, supports the principals, finds subs when needed, and steps in wherever a gap needs filling.

“I’m the helper,” she says with a modest smile. “If someone needs something, we just do it.”

Sonya, meanwhile, brings her own kind of superpower to the mix. A longtime Knoxville parent and paraprofessional, she’s served the district since 2004 in nearly every capacity imaginable—from subbing in classrooms to filling in for secretaries abroad. This is her first year in the high school office full-time, and she handles all things athletics: registration, physicals, rosters, communications, coordination.

“She’s my go-to,” Sandy says. “And she’s excellent.”

Between the two of them, there’s not much that slips past.

When a student shows up at the door with a scrape or a stomachache, it’s Sandy or Sonya who helps. When a grandparent calls to report a pick-up change, or a team needs last-minute transportation help, or someone forgets their lunch—it's one of them who handles it. Without drama. Without spotlight.

Just grace.

And heart.

“My favorite thing,” Sonya says, “is seeing the kids grow up. I knew many of them back when they were at Mabel Woolsey Elementary. Now they’re graduating. It’s a full-circle moment.”

For Sandy, this year’s graduating class is especially emotional. “I was their secretary back in fifth grade,” she says. “I’ve had them all the way through. It’s bittersweet.”

Both women are originally from Galesburg, but have made Knoxville their true home. Sandy lives in town, and Sonya raised her four children here. They understand the pulse of the place—the way people wave with just two fingers off the steering wheel, the quiet morning meetings at McDonald’s, the soft but ever-present hum of community.

“There’s a secret sauce here,” Sandy says. “It’s not too big, not too small. People show up. Not just parents, but neighbors. Business owners. The whole town.”

That spirit shows up in little ways and big ones. Like when a student forgets a trombone over break and a teacher calls Sandy to unlock the school. “You just do it,” she shrugs. “That’s what small towns are.”

And while they’re quick to credit others—teachers, administrators, coaches—Sandy and Sonya are part of the architecture. You just can’t see the rivets unless you’re looking.

“We’re support,” Sandy says. “We’re not the pilots. But we’re air traffic control. We keep things moving.”

So if you're ever looking for the heart of Knoxville High School, look for the door that’s always open. Listen for the voices calmly navigating twelve interruptions in ten minutes. Watch for the women with open tabs on their screens, in their minds, and in their hearts.

That’s where you’ll find them.

Meet the rivets.