You don’t always find your calling. Sometimes, it finds you.

Heather Galbreath was student teaching in a Galesburg classroom when she unexpectedly fell in love—with science.

It wasn’t part of her original plan. She thought she’d teach language arts or social studies. But after a few weeks under the mentorship of a standout teacher named Merris Hennenfent, Heather found herself captivated by the wonder, questions, and weirdness that science brings into a middle school classroom.

“I just loved it,” she says. “It clicked with how I think. I’m goofy, curious, a little nerdy—and so are my sixth graders. We get each other.”

That spark launched what has now become a 25-year teaching career, all of it spent at Lombard Middle School. And while she’s had many roles in that time—including dance coach and mentor—her heart has remained with her students and with the practice of science teaching itself.

But Heather’s impact goes far beyond the walls of her building.

In 2014, when Illinois adopted the Next Generation Science Standards (NGSS), Heather applied to join a statewide curriculum development team. Out of the entire Region 3 education area, only two teachers were selected—one high school, one middle school. Heather was the latter.

That work sparked a new dimension in her career: professional leadership at the state and national levels. Since then, she’s contributed to the OpenSciEd initiative, helped lead I-STEM cohorts, facilitated national training sessions, and piloted curriculum units now used across the country.

“I’ve been flown to New Mexico, Oklahoma, Arizona, even Massachusetts to train other teachers,” she says. “And I’m still teaching full-time in Galesburg. It’s wild.”

But it’s not just about content—it’s about how students learn.

Heather uses a method called anchoring phenomena, where a real-world scenario (like sound vibrations or plant growth) kicks off a unit. Students begin by observing, then develop their own questions, which are organized on a Driving Question Board. From there, they steer the investigation—with Heather acting as a kind of co-pilot, gently nudging them toward deeper understanding.

“They think they’re making all the decisions,” she says, laughing. “And that’s the magic. They own their learning.”

The method works. Over the past few years, Heather and her co-teacher Jon Bradburn have seen exceptional growth in benchmark assessments, sparking interest from administrators and curriculum leaders across the district.

And the best part? The curriculum is open-source and free.

“All the materials are here,” she says. “We just need to shift how we think about instruction.”

Her passion for the work is unmistakable. But what grounds Heather most is her love for Galesburg itself. She’s a hometown girl—raised between Knoxville and Galesburg, the daughter of a sporting goods store owner, the kind of kid who spent afternoons outdoors and weekends coaching dance.

She’s now teaching the children of her former students, something she calls “both surreal and beautiful.”

“This is my home,” she says. “I’ve traveled. I’ve seen a lot. And I know how lucky I am to teach here.”

She’s also a mother of two—her son is in eighth grade, and her daughter is in sixth, walking the same halls where their mom teaches. “I thought about moving up to high school,” Heather says, “but I couldn’t leave. This is where I belong.”

And maybe that’s the lesson at the center of it all: belonging isn’t just something we offer students—it’s something teachers need, too.

Heather Galbreath found her place in science. Her students found their spark in her classroom. And somewhere in the space between goofy jokes and real learning, they built something extraordinary.