They’re not the first names students see on their schedules, and they’re not listed as head coaches or department chairs. But walk the halls of Salem Community High School for even a day, and it becomes clear: the school wouldn’t function without its paraprofessionals—a team of deeply committed educators whose official title doesn’t begin to capture what they do.

“We’re the teacher’s second hand,” said Wendy Carlton, who’s been working in the district for more than 25 years. “We’re not just aides. We’re advocates, listeners, tutors, and sometimes the person a student trusts most.”

That trust is no small thing. Many of these educators—Wendy, Deanna Weber, Tanya Barrett, Julie Carlton, Brad Hargis, and Lynnsey Heinzmann—have spent decades walking beside students with behavioral challenges, learning differences, or hard-to-name hurts that don’t show up in gradebooks but weigh heavy just the same.

They are classroom calmers, hallway greeters, behind-the-scenes cheerleaders, and daily touchstones for students who sometimes feel invisible elsewhere. “Some kids walk through these doors and you can tell—they’ve had a hard weekend,” said Brad. “They need to see a smile. They need to know someone’s happy to see them.”

Tanya, a one-on-one aide for much of her 18-year tenure, puts it this way: “People think we teach them. But honestly, they teach us.”

The team’s combined experience spans nearly a century. Some came from early childhood centers. Others, like Brad, from small business ownership and restaurant management. “You deal with all kinds of people in those worlds,” he said. “Just like here. You’ve got to meet them where they are.”

For Lynnsey, the work is about rebuilding a bridge where one may have burned. “My favorite part is connecting with kids who don’t have a positive relationship with school—or with adults in general,” she said. “You can see the walls up when they walk in. The challenge is to help them trust again. And when that happens, it’s everything.”

The group’s work centers largely around Salem Community High School’s general studies and special education departments, but their reach extends to the entire building. “If a student asks for help, we don’t say, ‘Sorry, you’re not in our department,’” Brad said. “We’re here for all of them.”

And they’ve earned that right not just through hours, but presence. Real presence.

“We know the kids,” said Julie. “We know when they’re having a good day. We know when something’s off. And we know how to show up for them in ways they’ll actually accept.”

It’s not always easy. The job requires emotional stamina, patience, flexibility, and an ability to move between gentle and firm in the same breath. But the rewards come quietly—through the student who finally cracks a smile, or the one who starts showing up for class, or the one who whispers, “thank you,” before heading home.

“You see healing happen,” said Lynnsey. “It’s not always dramatic. Sometimes it’s just the way a kid finally starts to meet your eyes.”

There’s no fanfare, no Friday night lights, no trophy for “Most Trusted Adult.” But ask around Salem Community High School, and it’s clear: these paraprofessionals are doing some of the most vital work in the building.

As Wendy put it: “We’re not perfect. The kids aren’t perfect. But we’re here—every day—because someone has to be.”