There’s something sacred about the final weeks of a long teaching career. The room looks the same. The students still chatter. But everything feels heavier, quieter, more luminous—like the last warm light of a late afternoon.

That’s where Karen Gall, Connie Colley, and Marcia Schulte find themselves now, as they each prepare to step away from Mount Olive Schools after more than three decades each in the classroom.

Together, they represent 96 years of service—and they’re leaving behind much more than lesson plans.

“It feels surreal,” said Karen, who spent most of her 31 years teaching sixth and seventh grade. “I’ve taught the children of my first students. It’s a beautiful full circle.”

Karen’s gift has always been connecting with her students as individuals—learning their interests, noticing who they are outside of school, and reminding them they matter. “Middle schoolers can be independent and hilarious,” she said. “They’re figuring out who they are. And if you’re paying attention, it’s an amazing thing to witness.”

Connie, who began her career in junior high special education before moving into the fourth-grade classroom, spent 33 years building her own legacy of encouragement and structure. “Fourth grade is a leap year for kids,” she said. “They come in writing sentences and leave writing full papers. They start to find their voice.”

She’s had many of the same experiences as Karen—teaching not only children, but their parents. And she admits, “This year’s class is going to be hard to leave. They’re a special group.”

Marcia, who taught pre-K, began her time in Mount Olive by taking over Connie’s former special ed role. She brought compassion and structure to some of the district’s youngest learners—and found herself equally challenged and charmed. “Pre-K is intense,” she said. “They need everything from you, all the time. But they also give so much back.”

All three women spoke of their surprise at how quickly the years passed. “You blink, and it's three decades later,” Karen said. “And you're looking back, not just at classrooms, but at lives.”

They’ve seen state mandates come and go. New tech. New testing. New standards. But through it all, one thing remained the same: kids need to be seen, heard, and believed in.

“You have to meet them where they are,” Marcia said. “And you don’t always see the impact right away. But sometimes—years later—they come back. They say thank you.”

Some even apologize. “I’ve had students come up to me years later and say, ‘I’m sorry for how I acted in your class,’” Karen said, laughing. “Most of the time, I don’t even remember it. I remember the good things. That’s what sticks.”

As for retirement plans? Connie’s headed for travel and grandkids—three and one on the way. Karen’s planning trips, too, but also thinks she may sub here and there “to keep from getting bored.” Marcia and her husband are looking at building a house in the country—and she’s finally going to fire up that high-end sewing machine she bought four years ago and never used.

What unites them, beyond their longevity, is a shared humility. They don’t see themselves as heroes or changemakers. Just people who showed up, every day, for 30-some years—through good days and hard ones, new generations and shifting expectations.

But ask anyone in Mount Olive who these women are, and the answer is clear: they’re the reason many students believed in themselves at all.

Their rooms may fall silent soon, but their influence won’t. It lives in the confident voice of a student who once struggled, in the pages of a well-formed paragraph that started as five broken sentences, in the patient hearts of children who learned what kindness and consistency feel like.

And when they lock their classroom doors for the final time, it won’t be an ending.

It’ll be a well-earned recess.