Spring | 2026
The Strength of the Next Person
"It's just helping the person next to you — and hoping they do the same."

Elliott Rogers wasn't chasing the Illinois State Scholar designation. He wasn't even entirely sure what it was until Mr. Matthews called him in and told him.
That's not false modesty; it's just how he operated — showing up, doing the work, letting the results land where they did. When the recognition came, it felt like something clicking into place.
"I think it's a great cap," he says. "There's nothing else that really says, 'Hey, you did this.'"
Everything, every class, every test, every year of steady effort, gathered under one idea. He'd done the work. Here was proof.
However, if academics provided the architecture of his high school years, football gave them the heartbeat.
"That's been the number one thing," he says.
What he loves about it isn't complicated. "I just like being out there with the guys you're so close with," he says. "Being able to compete with them — I just love it." Even in tough seasons, even when the wins weren't coming, being out there with people he cared about made it worthwhile.
The bus rides get their own mention — unprompted, enthusiastic.
"Incredible," he says, before the question is even finished.
The specifics make them real: Coach Adolphson used to pull the seniors and any other guys he thought had earned a little extra onto one of the small white buses, separate from the rest. Just the guys who'd been through four years of it together. It gave them some room to breathe before and after the games.
"You're going to remember the bus rides," Elliott says. "The practices and all that."
A decade from now, someone will put on a song from that playlist, and the whole thing will come rushing back.
Next fall, Elliott heads to Monmouth College, staying in his community, deepening roots; he's not in any hurry to leave. He'll play safety for the Scots, bringing the same mentality he carried through high school. He plans to study accounting and economics. He’s drawn to the systems that quietly shape how the world works.
When the conversation turns to impact and how he wants to be remembered, what kind of dent he hopes to make, his answer doesn't reach for anything grand.
"Instead of trying to solve one major problem that's been trying to be solved for 250 years," he says, "it's just helping the person next to you and hoping that they do the same."
From there, the idea expands naturally. "You can build this kind of web of people that just want to go out and help the person next to them, make sure they're doing all right. And soon enough, over years and years, that's thousands, tens of thousands of people that want to just do better every day."
It's a philosophy rooted in what he's seen up close.
His mom is the director of the Recharge Teen Center in Monmouth, a place where kids can land each day after school, find their people, and take a breath. She's built a life around connection, and Elliott has watched what that looks like from the outside.
"Every time we go out, somebody's talking to her," he says. "And it's always positive."
His dad operates differently but teaches something equally important. He’s quieter about it, but clear: if you don't have good things to say about someone, you don't need to broadcast the alternative. "Just stick around the people you enjoy," Elliott says, paraphrasing a lesson he's absorbed. "And maybe you can rub off on people that you didn't think you liked as much."
Then there are the siblings. His twin sister Olivia is four minutes older and, by Elliott's own reckoning, a considerably more impressive student. "I've always thought she was a much more impressive student than I was," he says, without hesitation. These days, the two of them move through high school more as partners than competitors — the sharp edges of sibling rivalry long since worn smooth.
His brother Kaden is in town, working at the radio station and at Community National Bank, engaged, settled in. He called some of Elliott's games on air, which is its own kind of thing. His brother Corbin is up near Chicago in St. Charles with his girlfriend and their dog, and doing well.
Coach Adolphson earns a mention outside of football, too. Elliott had him for math as a freshman and again later. Even on the hard days, he says, "You're gonna go in there and have a laugh every day and be able to kind of let loose." The kind of teacher who understands that grinding without breathing isn't actually grinding; it's just wearing down.
Elliott Rogers heads to Monmouth College with a clear sense of who he is and how he wants to move through the world. Not by solving everything at once; just by taking care of the person next to him, and trusting that the web does the rest.
