Duane Prax has spent more than three decades in the classroom, and if you ask him what kind of teacher he is, he'll keep it simple. "I'm a life science guy," he says. "I teach bio, I teach anatomy, and I teach microbiology." After 19 years at Byron High School — and 15 before that at Polo — he's wrapping up a 34-year career this spring, and the thing that surprises most people is how much he's going to miss it.

Prax didn't grow up anywhere near Byron. He's originally from a small town in Minnesota where his parents owned a grocery store and where he was one of nine children — the youngest, along with his twin brother, born on Mother's Day in 1968. He graduated with just 38 kids in his class. "A lot of people think Byron is a small town," he says with a grin. "I grew up in something more like Leaf River."

He attended what was then Mankato State — now the University of Minnesota at Mankato. When he finished his degree in the early 1990s, teaching jobs in Minnesota were scarce, and he loaded everything he owned into an old Pontiac Phoenix and drove to Polo, Illinois, a town he'd never set foot in. "I didn't think I'd stay there real long," he admits. He was there for 15 years.

The pull toward teaching started much earlier, with a high school science teacher named Mr. Alexander. Prax can still picture the moment. He was a sophomore, and something about the way Alexander ran his classroom — the energy, the rhythm of the school day — just clicked for him. "I walked up to his desk and said, 'Do you think I'm smart enough to do what you do?'" Prax recalls. "And he said, 'Absolutely.'" That was enough. From that point forward, teaching was the goal. Alexander was also a girls' basketball and golf coach, two things Prax went on to do himself for roughly a decade each during his time at Polo.

He eventually made his way to Byron when a biology position opened up after a teacher moved into administration. His family was already here, the commute from Polo had worn thin, and it turned out to be a good fit. "It's been a wonderful move for me to finish my career here," he says.

Three of his four children have already graduated from Byron High School. His youngest, Ruby, is currently in middle school, and Prax admits he would have liked to stay long enough to have her in class. He had three of the others and said the dynamic was never as awkward as people might expect. "Don't call me Mr. Prax," he told them. "That's weird. Call me Dad." When one of his daughters was less than attentive, he didn't go easy on her. "If they see me getting on her about talking when I'm teaching, they know they can't get away with it either," he says.

What Prax says he'll miss most are the moments that don't show up in any lesson plan. Just that morning, before the interview, a student had come in before a test, still fuzzy on neurophysiology. He took the time to walk her through it one-on-one, and her face changed. "It just kind of lit up," he says. "And I said, 'You just learned something — sometimes all it takes is that one-on-one instruction.' I didn't teach it any differently than I taught the whole group. She just needed to hear it again." Those moments, he says, are what he'll carry with him.

He's also reflective about the bigger picture at Byron. For a high school of roughly 450 students, he says the breadth of what's available — microbiology, AP Biology, AP Chemistry, a strong ag program, a thriving arts program — is something families shouldn't take for granted. "If a kid goes through this system and doesn't get exposed to something, that's kind of on them," he says. "Because the opportunities are there." He's equally proud of the school's culture of competition, from the football team's state title to the girls' basketball program to students competing at state in academic contests. "That's a nice culture to be a part of," he says, "and hopefully some of that transfers to raising the bar academically, too."

As for what comes next, Prax is deliberately keeping his options open. He plays golf, hunts deer, and has a yard he enjoys trying to improve year after year. . He might look into part-time teaching somewhere down the line, just to stay in the game a little longer. But for now, he's focused on the next 50 days. "I'm really trying to enjoy what I have left here," he says. After 34 years, he's earned the right to take his time saying goodbye.