There’s a particular kind of energy Kaitlyn Stephens brings into a room — not loud, not adrenaline-soaked, but steady and warm, like someone who truly enjoys what she gets to do each day. In Martinsville, where students move through tight-knit halls and teachers often wear multiple hats, Kaitlyn has leaned fully into the rhythm of small-school life. In just two years, she has become a familiar, trusted presence across seventh through twelfth grade, shaping everything from physical education to health to driver’s education to junior high volleyball. The word “Renaissance” was scribbled next to her name on the interview list I worked from for this issue. Neither she nor I knew who added it. But no one who knows her would argue the point.

What stands out about Kaitlyn isn’t the long list of duties she carries — though the list is long. It’s the spirit underneath them: an easy calm, a sense of perspective, and a natural understanding of young people that seems far older than her years.

Kaitlyn grew up in Robinson, a place close enough to Martinsville to share its culture, values, and cadence, though bigger by comparison. After graduating in 2020, she headed to Indiana State University to pursue physical therapy. But one of her professors — a former PE teacher — awakened something in her. Kaitlyn found herself lingering after class, asking questions, imagining what it might feel like to work with kids every day. Before long, the path became clear. She switched her major. She never looked back.

Her first year in Martinsville was straightforward: PE and assistant high school volleyball coach. Year two? A bit of a whirlwind. She kept PE but added seventh-grade health, picked up driver’s ed, and accepted the head coaching role for junior high volleyball. Many teachers would blanche at that schedule. Kaitlyn just shrugs, smiles, and heads to the next thing on her list.

She commutes from Robinson — thirty minutes each direction — and genuinely enjoys the time to reset. “It’s kind of nice to have that time to myself,” she said. In a life where she shifts between roles all day long, that quiet drive becomes a kind of anchor.

Inside her classroom, though, Kaitlyn is fully present. Watching her teach seventh-grade health is a master class in gentle command. She redirects with calm firmness. She lets throwaway comments slide when they deserve to be ignored. She builds structure without tension. In an age where teens and preteens are bombarded by screens and pressure and endless noise, her room feels like a place where everyone can breathe.

Make no mistake: Kaitlyn believes deeply in the importance of physical education — not as an old tradition schools carry out of habit, but as a necessity for this generation. “You can physically see it in our youth,” she said. “They’re just not outside. They’re not active.” Kids spend more time seated than ever: in classrooms, doing homework, on screens, on social media, and gaming. Movement is not a given. It has to be taught.

PE, in her mind, is a lifeline. A reset button. A place where students can step out of mental strain and into something grounding — something whole-body. She sees the evidence of its importance every day. The kids who don’t know which direction to run the bases in whiffle ball. The kids who have never picked up a paddle before playing pickleball. The kids who discover a new sport they can carry into adulthood — something social, something healthy, something that builds confidence in ways a worksheet never can.

Pickleball has become one of her favorites to teach. With Martinsville’s new courts, the sport has spread quickly, and students love it. “Now if someone invites them to play, they can go,” she said. That idea — that something learned in her PE class becomes a tool for belonging, connection, and fun outside of school — matters deeply to her.

The same principle applies in health class. Kaitlyn speaks with her students about physical wellness, but also about mental and social wellness — how movement affects mood, how being active influences confidence, how taking even small steps toward fitness can lift the fog of stress. She teaches from lived experience, explaining that she herself feels better when she does the hard things she doesn’t always feel like doing.

Driver’s ed adds another layer to her influence. The academic portion lasts nine weeks, and once her students turn fifteen, she takes them out driving during the school day. Most are excited — eager to gain the independence that comes with a license. A few are nervous. Kaitlyn remembers what that age feels like. She’s patient. She builds their confidence one turn, one start, one merge at a time. And if they hesitate to get their permit, she gently reminds them: You have to start sometime.

In Martinsville, driving is a genuine rite of passage. “To get anywhere here, you have to be able to drive,” she said. Many students are farm kids; they grew up steering pickup trucks or equipment long before sitting behind the wheel with her. Others are starting from scratch. Either way, she takes pride in guiding them through the early steps, knowing how much freedom and responsibility it represents.

Coaching volleyball has become an unexpected joy. She never saw herself as a coach, not initially. But when the assistant position opened during her interview her first year, she decided to give it a try. She discovered quickly how much coaching deepened her relationships with students. Now, stepping into the head coach role for junior high volleyball, she’s excited — and yes, a little nervous. Coaching fifth through eighth grade is new to her; the range in maturity and physical development is huge. But she’s ready.

She loves the sport for a simple reason: volleyball is built on encouragement. Every point resets the energy. Every rally demands togetherness. The team huddles constantly — not for strategy, but for spirit. “I don’t care if you’re on the floor or on the bench,” she tells her players. “Be excited.”

When Kaitlyn talks about Martinsville, though, her voice softens into something unmistakably affectionate. She may live in Robinson, but she doesn’t feel like an outsider here. Not even close. “I get nothing but support,” she said. “People are kind. The community is very close.” She’s seen it at basketball games, at practices, in casual encounters uptown. People show up for one another, whether they have a direct connection or not. It’s one of the first things she tells people about the district.

And when she imagines running into a former student years from now — maybe in Terre Haute, maybe in Walmart — she lights up at the thought of it. “I look forward to that,” she said.

Kaitlyn knows she’s still early in her career. But she also knows she’s exactly where she should be — in a small community, working with students who need movement, mentorship, encouragement, and someone who remembers what it’s like to be young and trying to figure the world out.

Her work is not loud or flashy. But it is meaningful. And every day she teaches, she plants seeds — of confidence, of health, of belonging — that will grow long after her students leave the gym.

In Martinsville, that’s what joy in motion looks like.