Winter | 2026
The Thread That Runs Through
"You're still mine. You're still my team. Even after you're not playing anymore."

Steph Reynolds has lived almost her entire life inside the orbit of Litchfield—first as a student, then as an educator, coach, and now as something more: a steady presence in the lives of children who need someone to believe in them, challenge them, and show up day after day. She graduated from Litchfield High School in 2011, came back as an RTI instructor, and then found her place where her heart always knew she'd end up—in a third-grade classroom. Ten years in, she's certain about one thing: "Litchfield was the only place I was going to teach. I didn't care how long it took."
Her roots run deep here. She and her husband are raising two-year-old Teagan in the district, and they serve as guardians to fourteen-year-old Avery, Steph’s second cousin. "We've had her for so long, and we love her like our own," Steph says. Avery is an eighth grader now—and next year she'll play softball for Steph's high school team. It's not just guardianship. It's family. It's the thread that runs through everything Steph does.
That sense of continuity shaped Steph early on. As a first grader, she met the person who would change the entire trajectory of her life: her teacher, Mrs. Currie. The connection wasn't just immediate—it was generational. Mrs. Currie had also taught Steph's father decades earlier, and somehow held the same affection for him that she later extended to Steph. "She came to my wedding," Steph says with an emotional smile. "That's what I strive for. I want my students to be able to think about how I made them feel."
Her classroom reflects that intention. Third grade is a hinge year—the moment when children shift from "little babies" to capable, independent learners. "They still want hugs, they still want that praise from the teacher," she says, "but they're also ready for things that are harder." She leans into that. "I don't want you to be able to get everything right every time. I want to challenge you because at some point in your life, something is going to be hard for you, and those skills are so important."
That philosophy shows up outside the classroom too. Steph coaches high school softball, a sport she loved deeply but had to work hard to succeed in. She wasn't the star athlete. She was the grinder—the teammate who found a way to contribute. In her senior year, the team won Litchfield's first regional championship. "We kind of left the mark there," she says.
That experience shaped her as a coach, where her focus isn't just on mechanics or wins, but on relationships. "My best memories from high school were sports," she says. "Not just the wins or losses or anything like that, but just the team. The feeling of having a team and people relying on you." She laughs as she remembers telling parents at the banquet each year, "I see your girls way more than you do during softball season."
Her coaching philosophy mirrors her teaching one: meet kids where they are, encourage them, support them, and stay connected long after the season ends. "I have girls who have graduated, and I still see them at Walmart or I get a text saying this happened in my life. And I am able to reach out and let them know how proud I am of them." She pauses. "You're still mine. You're still my team. Even after you're not playing anymore."
She learned from coaches who built her up and others who made things difficult. "I've seen both sides of it," she says. The hard coaches taught her something valuable, too: "You're not always going to like who you're working with. I had to learn how to set aside things for a common goal."
And then there's Science Olympiad—her third role, the reason my interview notes tell me we’re meeting today, and one she leads with structure, curiosity, and joy. She and her colleague select fifteen students from third through fifth grade based on test scores, readiness, and teacher recommendations. Once a week they gather after school to study Illinois history, solve logic puzzles, build marble runs and catapults, investigate mock crime scenes, and learn compass navigation. "We want kids that are already kind of working above grade level," she explains. "And we also want them to like being challenged." I decide it’s part of the story — an important part — but also that Steph is so much more than the sum of these parts.
Her sister Lizzy is following the same path—studying to become a teacher, substituting at Litchfield Elementary, and helping coach softball. "She wants to teach at Litchfield," Steph says. The thread continues.
For Steph Reynolds, that's what Litchfield is: a place where relationships last, where former classmates bring their children to her classroom, where teachers become coaches and coaches become mentors for life. A place where a child can grow into the kind of adult who turns around and gives that same gift to the next generation.
