Scott Larson doesn’t wear a cape. He doesn’t stand in front of a classroom or sit in an office making district-wide decisions. But every day, he feeds 400 students, fills a room with warmth and laughter, and reminds every child who comes through his lunch line that they matter.

Scott is a cook at Jasper County Schools, but to call him just a cook would be a disservice. He’s also a full-time pastor, a single father of five, and, by all accounts, one of the most beloved figures in the school. He didn’t plan on being here. Life had different ideas.

A Springfield native, Scott spent his teenage years in Nashville, Tennessee, after his mother married a steel guitar player who pursued his dream of music. Scott’s own path wasn’t always steady—he openly acknowledges that his life before 1998 was troubled, a road he doesn’t like to revisit. But that year, he found faith, made a commitment to change, and moved to Jasper County, expecting it to be a temporary stop. Instead, it became home.

“I thought I’d stay for a while, get myself together, and then head back to Nashville,” he says. “But God had other plans.”

That road led him through Bible college, into ministry, and eventually, to fatherhood. Raising five kids as a single dad is no small feat. With four daughters and one son, his days are a delicate balance of providing, parenting, and pastoring. His youngest, Annabelle, is nine years old and in third grade. His oldest is 15. Two of his children have epilepsy, a reality that brings both challenges and deep gratitude for the support of the school community.

Scott’s journey into school food service started in 2021 when he was looking for a part-time job that aligned with his children’s schedules. With a background in restaurant management—including years at Sonic Drive-In—he applied for an opening in the school kitchen. “I threw spaghetti at the wall, and it stuck,” he jokes.

His timing was anything but ideal. Three days into the job, he caught COVID and was out for ten days. But once he returned, he found something unexpected—a job that didn’t just fit his schedule, but his heart.

“It’s hard to stay in a bad mood when you’re around kids,” he says. “They’re hilarious. One told me he only likes skinny cooks. Another felt sorry for me because I have to work with all these women. Every day, there’s something new.”

Scott is believed to be the first male cook in Jasper County Schools—a fact that doesn’t go unnoticed by the students. “Some of them started calling me ‘Chef,’” he says, shaking his head. “I had a kid tell me I cook like Gordon Ramsay. I said, ‘Well, if I did, I wouldn’t be working here.’”

But beneath the humor is something deeper. Scott sees what many don’t. He sees the kids who come to school hungry, the ones whose home lives leave them withdrawn, the ones who say more with their jokes than they do with their words. “A little girl came through the line the other day and said, ‘That pizza is sticking together better than my parents,’” he recalls. “She laughed, but that’s a heavy thing for a kid to carry.”

For Scott, this job is about more than food. It’s about presence. “These kids might not remember what they learned in math class, but they’ll remember if someone was kind to them,” he says. “They’ll remember if someone made them feel seen.”

His faith is woven into everything he does, including his role as the pastor at The Potter’s House, a church on the west side of Newton. He has been there since 1999, serving in a place that, much like the school, thrives on a sense of community. “This town has something special,” he says. “People here show up for each other.”

That support was never clearer than a month ago, when one of his daughters suffered the worst seizure of her life at school. The nurse was out that day, so Scott—who had seen her seizures before—held her, bracing her body as she convulsed. “She was shaking so hard I thought I’d fall off the floor,” he says. “Jessica, the office staff, everyone—people jumped in to help. No one hesitated.”

Moments like that reinforce what Scott already knows: it takes a village. “Every person in this school matters,” he says. “The teachers, the custodians, the bus drivers, the cooks—every single one of us is part of these kids’ lives.”

Before working here, Scott admits he had doubts about public schools. He considered homeschooling. He wondered if a private school might be a better fit. But after seeing the dedication of the teachers and staff, he became one of the district’s strongest advocates. “If you think schools don’t care, come work in one,” he says. “Come see the teachers going above and beyond. Come see the people making sure kids are fed, safe, and supported.”

For Scott, feeding kids is about more than calories—it’s about care. “You can’t teach a hungry kid,” he says. “And lunch? Lunch is more than food. It’s where kids let their guard down. It’s where they laugh, where they relax, where they just get to be kids.”

He doesn’t expect to stay in school food service forever—he jokes that his “retirement plan” is to find a second career. But for now, he’s right where he needs to be. “I didn’t plan on being here,” he says. “But I’m grateful every day that I am.”