Winter | 2026
The Compass Point in the Library Loft
"I have the most rewarding job on the planet."

In the quiet loft of the Byron High School library—tucked just far enough away from the daily rush to feel like a world of its own—sits the office where hundreds of futures have been shaped. It is here that Amber Swanson, Byron's college and career counselor and CTE coordinator, meets students one by one and helps them chart their next steps, whether that means an Ivy League campus, a dual-credit engineering pathway, an apprenticeship, or something they haven't yet realized they're capable of wanting.
Amber's reputation in the district precedes her. She is known as both strategist and confidante, the person who can ease a parent's anxiety about postsecondary choices just as effectively as she can help a student weigh the difference between Eastern Illinois and Columbia University. When she talks about her work, it becomes clear why people describe her as transformative. "I have the most rewarding job on the planet," she says. And she means it.
She's quick to downplay credit when it comes to her students' success stories, but nothing in her voice hides the pride she feels—especially when she recalls the moment senior Avril Silva walked into her office to say she had matched to Columbia University through the ultra-competitive QuestBridge program.
The day before match notifications went live, Amber ran into Avril at the grocery store checkout. "I'm like, Avril, it's the day before," Amber recalls. "And she's like, I already am so nervous, I don't know if I'll sleep." They made a plan: Avril would come see her the second she got to school. And she did. "That was a moment I will never forget," Amber says, "was her letting me know that she matched with Columbia."
Avril had ranked 15 schools, writing every application and supplemental essay herself—including submissions to several Ivy League universities. What Amber did then was to help create the structure, accountability, and emotional steadiness that allowed Avril to keep going when the process felt overwhelming. "We had them ranked on my board and would check off each one to keep her moving forward," she says. The match was earned through relentless work—"a first for me," Amber admits.
That kind of support is not reserved for high achievers alone. Amber is adamant that Byron students pursuing trades, credentials, or certificates should feel just as much dignity in their choices as those seeking four-year degrees. She remembers the era when high schools plastered hallways with College or Bust and rejects it entirely. Her goal is to open doors—all doors.
This is one reason she oversees an expansive portfolio: college counseling, CTE coordination, regional partnerships, grant writing, and dual credit. She laughs at the suggestion that she wears too many hats. "I don't do discipline," she jokes, "and I'm happy about that."
Her leadership helped Byron create a CNA program from scratch—now graduating 32 CNAs each year and serving students from surrounding districts. She has strengthened engineering pathways, expanded dual credit offerings through Highland and Rock Valley, and built partnerships with neighboring schools like Stillman Valley, Oregon, and Winnebago to ensure students can access programs Byron may not offer in-house.
And she's doing all of this while raising three children in the district—an eighth grader who just turned 14, a sixth grader, and a third grader. "It becomes personal," she says. "You want to help ease that college process for parents because it's very overwhelming."
Amber didn't begin her career imagining this role. Originally from Alabama and Michigan, she attended Illinois State before teaching U.S. history and economics at Normal Community High School. Economics, she says with a smile, didn't appeal to her at first—until she realized how often she now applies economic thinking when evaluating workforce trends and job-market shifts.
Her path to Byron started in 2009 when she took the job while living in Sycamore. Two years later, after falling in love with the district, she and her husband moved their family to town. Today, she says without hesitation, "I bleed orange and black."
What comes through most is her conviction that every student deserves someone in their corner who believes their future can be bigger than what they've imagined. She is, in every sense, the compass point in that quiet library loft. And the futures she helps launch reach far beyond Byron's borders.
