Fall | 2025
Welded to Hope
“You never lose—you always learn.”

It’s easy to spot Joseph Craig in a hallway full of middle schoolers. His voice, low and resonant, could belong to a baritone singer or a coach giving direction across a gym floor. “I’ve heard that before,” he laughs, acknowledging the bass that seems to vibrate from somewhere deep within. This is Craig’s first year as a physical education teacher at Joppa-Maple Grove—and his first year teaching anywhere. Yet already, he’s earned the kind of respect that can’t be taught.
A Benton native and former college athlete, Craig’s road to education wasn’t straight. “I was a teaching major for two years,” he says, “then switched to criminal justice.” After graduating from Greenville University, he tried on several hats—a factory job in Mount Vernon, a brief stint as a correctional officer in Pinckneyville—but something in him wanted more. “I realized I wanted to help kids,” he explains. “A lot of them have problems that have nothing to do with academics. That’s way more important to me.”
Today, he’s earning his teaching license through Grand Canyon University—while already making a difference in the lives of his students. “The district supports my coursework,” he says, gratitude mixing with drive. “That’s huge.” He recently moved to Metropolis to be closer to the district, and the decision feels right. “Every kid has challenges,” he says. “But they have a lot more in common than they think. If they’d just talk to each other, they’d see it.”
Sitting beside him is sophomore Kasey Cohoon, a quiet student with a curious mind and a knack for building things. “My dad’s a welder,” he says. “He works at Lafarge—it’s called Holcim now. Every day he comes home bragging about his welds. I’m better than him, though,” he adds, grinning.
That spark of competitiveness runs through his work. Kasey’s enrolled in a dual credit welding course at Shawnee Community College, already learning the fundamentals of stick welding but dreaming of TIG—the more precise and demanding technique. “Not everybody can do TIG,” he says matter-of-factly. “It makes you more marketable.” His ambition doesn’t stop there. “I want to know enough that if someone needs welding and their air goes out, I can fix both,” he says. “HVAC, electrical—I like solving problems.”
He’s also thinking about getting out—seeing what’s beyond the boundaries of his hometown. “I’ve been here my whole life,” he admits. “Nothing’s changed.” But he says it not with bitterness, more with hunger. “I just want to go explore a little.” And yet, when asked whether he might come back someday, his answer lands softly but firmly: “Definitely a possibility.”
That kind of honesty resonates with Craig, who knows what it means to leave, to learn, and to return with purpose. “Every day, I ask myself if I’ve got what it takes,” Craig says. “Every day.” His students, like Kasey, hear that kind of vulnerability from him—and it matters. “You never lose,” he tells them. “You always learn.”
It’s the sort of lesson that sticks—not just in the classroom, but in the shop, the gym, or wherever determination meets doubt. Craig sees his students at their most human moments—sweaty, tired, frustrated. “That’s when they’re trying the hardest,” he says. “When they can’t quite get there. And that’s when I get to remind them that failure is just part of learning.”
For Kasey, that lesson’s already taking root. “If I mess up, I get aggravated,” he admits. “But I just keep going.” His teacher nods in approval, the kind born of shared experience. Both are building something—one a career, one a future. Both know that progress isn’t always visible at first, like a weld that cools before its strength can be tested.
What unites them, perhaps most of all, is hope. Craig found his in the decision to serve where it matters most—among young people still figuring out who they are. Kasey’s is in the spark between steel and arc, and in the belief that someday, maybe, he’ll bring something back home.
