Todd Wetterling has been teaching eighth-grade social studies since 1994. This is his 33rd year in education, and nearly every one of those years has included coaching. Track for 32 seasons. Eighth-grade football for 17. Girls' basketball at the varsity level, including a run to state. The hours are difficult to quantify because coaching was never something separate from teaching—it was simply another way to reach kids.

He didn't set out to become a teacher. The decision arrived during his sophomore year of college, when a professor suggested he consider teaching as a major. Todd gave it a shot. It stuck. Coaching followed naturally. He liked working with kids and the chance to help them figure things out.

What Todd has learned over three decades is that success—whether in the classroom or on the field—is rarely about talent alone. It's about how you respond when things don't go the way you hoped. Failure is not something to be avoided. It's something to be used.

He says it plainly: kids are supposed to fail. In practice, if they're trying new things, failure is expected. You scratch a jump. You drop the baton. You miss a tackle. The question isn't whether it happens. It's what you do next.

Football, he tells his players, is like life. You're going to get knocked down. What matters is whether you get back up. Quitting isn't an option. You keep working at it until you figure it out.

He asks students: Did you learn to eat with a fork and spoon without making a mess? No. Your parents have pictures of you with strawberries everywhere. But you kept doing it. You learned. Eventually, you figured it out. That's how failure works.

That philosophy carries into his classroom. History is essentially a long record of failure and repair. Societies make mistakes. Systems break. Progress comes from learning what went wrong and adjusting.

Todd grew up as a farm kid, raised on common sense and hard work. Common sense, he says, was prioritized more than intelligence. He explained, “You don't have to be smart to get through in this world. If you have the right work ethic, and you have common sense, you can go a long way.”

That approach matters in a school as diverse as Monmouth-Roseville. Todd has watched the district change, welcoming students who speak dozens of languages. Teaching social studies in that environment isn't always easy. Communication barriers exist. But Todd approaches it the same way he always has: problem-solve. If he doesn't know how to reach a student, he finds someone who does. He credits Ms. Mendez, the ESL staff.

One early Latino student, a track team member with a great sense of humor, worked through Todd's sarcasm and banter while learning English. One day, finally catching on, he said: You're making fun of me, aren't you? They laughed and laughed. You got it, bud.

Athletics offers lessons the classroom alone cannot. Teamwork. Resilience. Work ethic. Accountability. There is no I in football. If a play doesn't work, everyone owns it—coaches included. Winning matters, but it isn't the point. Growth is.

Todd is candid about his own growth. Early in his coaching career, he struggled to control his emotions. It was a basketball game, about eight years into coaching. His wife pointed out what he couldn't see from the sideline: all those eyes from behind. Every player was watching him yell at the ref. He adjusted. He learned. Now his philosophy is simple: I don't coach referees. I coach players.

He had some things that showed him he could be better, needed to be better. They've got too many negative things they can see in their lives anyway, he says. I can't be one of them.

Todd never had children of his own, but he doesn't hesitate when asked who his kids are. His teams. His students. The young people who pass through his room and his practices, carrying pieces of what he taught them into lives he may never fully see.

If he can affect even one kid in a positive way—help them learn how to handle failure, responsibility, and effort—then he's done something worthwhile.