The day Ann Gillen walked into Monmouth-Roseville High School in the fall of 1994, she wasn’t sure what to expect. She had been working in insurance, a quieter and far less dynamic world, when a friend suggested she apply for an opening in the school office. Ann interviewed with then-principal Gary Collins, was offered the position, and stepped into what would become a 31-year career at the heart of Titan Nation.

For 23 years, Ann served full-time as the office secretary. When she reached retirement age, Superintendent Ed Fletcher encouraged her to stay on part-time. She agreed, not ready to give up the daily rhythm of working with students, staff, and families. “It gives me a reason to get up, get dressed, and get out,” she says with a smile.

In her decades at the school, Ann has seen generations of families pass through. Her parents attended Monmouth schools back in the 1940s. Her grandsons attended Monmouth-Roseville. She has worked alongside staff members she once watched walk across the graduation stage. The cycles of life are visible to her in a way few people ever experience.

“Freshmen come in and they’re still kids,” Ann reflects. “Especially the boys. By the time they graduate, they’re young adults. And then, years later, I’ll see them in town with jobs, with families, with their own kids. That transformation is amazing.”

She calls it a privilege to sit at what I describe as a “catbird seat,” where every hall pass, every question, every quick stop in the office becomes part of a long-running story of growth and resilience.

Ann grew up in Gerlaw and attended a two-room schoolhouse before moving on to Warren High School. Her upbringing was in a far more homogenous community. Coming to Monmouth-Roseville, with its cultural variety and diverse student body, was an education in itself. “I regret that I never learned Spanish,” she says. “But I’ve learned so much about myself and about the community through the people who’ve come here. Their outlook has taught me more than I ever expected.”

What surprised her most was not the diversity itself but the realities some students face at home. She recalls being shocked to learn how many children were raised not by two parents, but by single fathers, grandparents, or guardians juggling serious challenges of their own. “Some kids had to overcome so much,” she says quietly. “But to see them succeed anyway, you can’t get a better reward than that.”

Ann and I agree that resilience — a word we’ve both come to admire and lament — is deeply enmeshed in the Monmouth-Roseville story. “I don’t love that students have to develop resilience,” she explains, “but it’s that very gift that allows them to keep climbing the ladder.”

Ann’s own family reflects the same commitment to education and community. Her daughter Andrea works in financial aid at Monmouth College, opening doors for students who might not otherwise have a chance at higher education. Andrea’s husband teaches agriculture at Monmouth-Roseville Junior High. Her late son’s wife works at Carl Sandburg College, guiding the next generation forward. Even her grandchildren, twins who just graduated last spring, represent the continuation of a legacy rooted in service and perseverance.

Ann’s voice grows tender when she speaks of her son, who passed away four years ago. “It’s one of the most painful things to watch,” she shares candidly, “because you want to fix it, but you can’t.” Her honesty about challenges and loss makes her empathy for students all the more striking. She knows what it means to face hardships that don’t always show on the surface.

Despite the hardships, Ann’s joy in her work remains undiminished. She speaks warmly of her colleagues in the front office, some of whom she has known since their own student days. She delights in the diversity of Monmouth-Roseville — in the smells, foods, and traditions that shape the halls. She smiles when recalling recent TitanNation magazine stories of students like Camila, recognizing in each of them the same potential she has watched unfold year after year.

And she insists she’ll keep coming back as long as she feels she’s contributing. “I told the girls [in the office], if they think I need to call it quits, to please let me know,” she says. Until then, she’ll remain in her familiar place at the front office — steady, welcoming, a living thread in the fabric of Monmouth-Roseville.

Ann Gillen never planned to stay three decades at Monmouth-Roseville, but in doing so, she became something more than an office secretary. She became a witness to resilience, a keeper of stories, and a symbol of continuity in a district that has seen beautiful, enormous change.

As she puts it herself: “It’s been the privilege of my life.”