When the van pulls up on a Tuesday or Thursday evening, families across Galesburg know that it brings more than supplies. It carries compassion, dignity, and a reminder that in this community, no one is left to struggle alone. The initiative behind those deliveries—Keisha Cares—was born out of both necessity and love, and today it stands as a testament to what happens when a community leans into caring for its own.

Keisha Cares didn’t start with a van or a formal program. It began with a simple closet. At Lombard Middle School, secretary Keisha Harris kept what she called “Keisha’s Closet”—an assortment of snacks, hygiene items, and spare clothes. She had a gift for recognizing need before a child ever spoke it aloud. Keisha passed away from cancer in 2022, but her heart of gold inspired something larger than anyone could have imagined. In her honor, the district renamed its outreach effort Keisha Cares. Today, her portrait, painted by a student, rides proudly on the back of the program’s van—a rolling symbol of hope.

The program itself had already taken shape during the difficult early days of the pandemic. What began as “SEL on Wheels” in 2020 brought tutoring, food, and hotspot access to families navigating COVID’s disruptions. But as the needs of families became clearer, the work evolved. “We wanted to meet families where they were, outside of school hours,” explained Carrie Cooper, now assistant principal at King Elementary. “Evenings offered a chance for parents to be home, for students to seek help without stigma, and for us to show up in ways that mattered most”.

Together with Karen Kistler, a social worker with deep roots in advocacy, Cooper has helped anchor the program in empathy and action. Kistler’s own path speaks volumes: after 21 years as an environmental engineer at Maytag, she shifted careers when the plant closed, pursuing a master’s in social work. “I saw how fragile life could be for families when steady jobs disappeared,” she recalled. “I’ve always felt drawn to helping kids who need to know someone has their back”.

Keisha Cares operates with a simple philosophy: if a child or family needs something—be it food, clothing, hygiene products, or just someone to listen—the program will find a way. Supplies are delivered twice weekly from 4–6 p.m., with the possibility of expanding to more days as resources allow. Some requests are urgent, some are ongoing, and others reveal deeper challenges. When that happens, Cooper and Kistler don’t hesitate to connect families to partner agencies or even sit with them to fill out paperwork for referrals. It’s about more than meeting a single need—it’s about building bridges to long-term support.

The practical side of Keisha Cares is impressive: a food pantry at the high school, partnerships with Riverbend Food Bank, and the ability to deliver boxes discreetly so that students don’t have to carry them home on buses. But it’s the human side that makes the difference. “Helping the parent is ultimately helping the child,” Kistler said simply. “By asking families directly, on their own turf, what they need, we’re able to show them they are valued and cared for”.

That dignity matters. In a world where asking for help can carry shame, Keisha Cares ensures compassion comes without judgment. Cooper puts it plainly: “Don’t we want to give everybody that chance for success? What do we need to do so that student can be successful?”

Of course, not everyone sees the need so clearly. To those who might wonder why such a program exists, Kistler offers a gentle but powerful reminder: “What would you do if your child were in that situation? Wouldn’t you want help available in a way that protects their dignity?”

Keisha Cares is funded through a combination of grants and community donations, but in many ways, it is fueled by something stronger: the collective will of a community that refuses to look away. Volunteers and staff are quick to step forward, evenings are given freely, and countless quiet acts of service add up to something extraordinary.

Years from now, many of the children touched by Keisha Cares may not remember the specific box of food or bag of toiletries that arrived at their doorstep. But they will remember that when their family was struggling, someone showed up. They will remember the kindness of neighbors who believed their success was worth fighting for.

And they will remember Keisha—a woman whose simple closet of supplies became the spark for a movement.