Larry Myers has spent nearly his entire life in Monmouth, and almost all of his working life serving it. He graduated in 1996, stayed close to home, and began a law enforcement career that has now spanned more than 25 years. This school year, that long arc bent slightly inward, bringing him back into the buildings he once walked as a student—this time as Monmouth-Roseville's School Resource Officer.

Larry joined the Monmouth Police Department after attending the academy in June of 2000. With the exception of six months living in Galesburg with his girlfriend—now his wife, his high school sweetheart—he has never left town. He grew up here, went to school here before consolidation, and watched Monmouth become Monmouth-Roseville. His own children graduated in 2023 and 2025. For Larry, this is not just a place of work; it is home.

The idea of becoming a police officer took shape early. An uncle served as town marshal in Dallas City, Illinois, and Larry remembers watching him come home, remove his uniform, badge, and gun. The image stuck. Westerns on television, police shows as he grew older, and childhood games of cops and robbers all reinforced the idea.

After high school, Larry briefly attended Carl Sandburg College but quickly realized traditional college wasn't the right fit. He went to work at the Maytag factory in Galesburg, putting in 2,000 screws per shift. The pay was good, but the work was repetitive. When policing requirements shifted and opportunities opened, Larry joined the auxiliary police in Monmouth in 1998. In 2000, he tested for the department and was hired. He has been a street cop ever since.

That background shapes how he approaches his role as SRO. Larry describes his approach with a phrase from police academy training: circumstances dictate tactics. Talking with a third grader requires a different approach than working with a high schooler. You kind of have to know which hat to put on, he says. On the street, no two days are alike. The same is true in schools.

As the district's SRO, Larry rotates through all five schools: Lincoln on Tuesdays, Central on Wednesdays, Harding on Thursdays, with the high school and junior high alternating Mondays and Fridays. Safety is the priority—locked doors, threat assessments, preparedness—but it's not the whole job. He sees himself as another resource. Sometimes that means sitting down when a student doesn't want to go to class. Sometimes it's eating lunch with kids, reading a storybook, or playing soccer on the playground. He keeps stickers in his pocket.

A three-sport athlete in high school, Larry later coached YMCA basketball, baseball, and flag football when his sons were young. To complaining parents, his response was direct: here's a clipboard, go ahead. Coaching deepened his connections with families, allowing him to know students and parents long before he ever wore an SRO badge.

Larry's familiarity with the community helps. After 25 years as a police officer, he knows families across generations—grandparents, parents, children. That recognition builds trust. Students see him less as an authority figure and more as a constant, approachable presence.

He speaks candidly about Monmouth's strengths and challenges. The town sits in a uniquely connected place—close to larger cities, rivers, colleges, and resources—while retaining the closeness of a small community. Monmouth's diversity, shaped by industry and migration, has broadened perspectives and enriched the community.

The SRO position was made possible by a referendum—the school district pays 75 percent of his salary, the city covers the rest. With about four years left before retirement at age 52, Larry saw the role as a meaningful way to close his career.

Law enforcement carries weight. Sometimes you take stuff home with you, Larry acknowledges. At Maytag, he could clock out and forget about work. This job follows him. You carry some of that burden. Yet he continues to show up. He has never actually said he hates his job. You just never know what's going to happen and what joy you could bring to somebody that day.

In Monmouth-Roseville's schools, Larry Myers is not just a uniform in the hallway. He is a familiar face, a listener, a presence. And sometimes, that presence is exactly what makes the difference.