Teacher Megan Helberg has traveled the world, only to find that all roads keep leading back to where her journey began. 

She’s studied in Rwanda with a focus on the 1994 genocide. She taught card games to children in the Amazonian rainforest when the plane carrying her to visit Ecuador鈥檚 Sapara tribe was forced by a storm to land in a remote village where no one spoke English. She sat down with the First Lady at the White House. Her walks through Europe鈥檚 concentration camps led her to reach out to the Anne Frank House in the Netherlands, to collaborate on a Holocaust curriculum for American high school students. 

But for all the sights and memories from these global travels, Nebraska鈥檚 2020 Teacher of the Year says she鈥檚 never quite found anything to match the sense of community and belonging she feels alongside her 189 neighbors in her small hometown of Taylor. 

She can even point to the year when she first realized what a unique and special place it is: 1994. 

When Helberg was just 10 years old, her father learned he would need a heart transplant. The nearest medical center equipped for such a procedure was in Omaha, more than 200 miles east. She and her immediate family made the trip, which lasted 52 days

Nebraska鈥檚 state slogan has long been 鈥渢he good life,鈥� and that鈥檚 exactly what the family encountered in those difficult days 鈥� a community of people doing good to help their neighbors, because they could.

Today the 37-year-old still vividly recalls how her Taylor 鈥渇amily鈥� immediately and seamlessly jumped into action, mobilizing to help her and her parents through those tumultuous months. Friends checked on the house, while neighbors helped work the family ranch. Helberg鈥檚 teachers took it upon themselves to coordinate directly with the intensive care nurses in Omaha, faxing homework and completed assignments back and forth across the state, determined to preserve Helberg鈥檚 connection to school and keep her academically on track.

Helberg remembers her family getting into the car that first night to drive east, only to discover they were out of gas and the station was closed for the evening. The owner got out of bed and turned on the pumps just for them.

“You know that old saying, ‘It takes a village’? I really saw that here,” Helberg says of Taylor. “Where I grew up, people were willing to help 鈥� Little things like that have stuck with me throughout my entire life. It makes me realize that I want to be that type of person for other people in a community.鈥�

So perhaps it鈥檚 not surprising that although she鈥檚 seen the world, she felt compelled to return to the community that made her feel valued as a child, determined to help the next generation. Helberg moved back to Taylor in 2010 to teach in nearby Burwell, Nebraska, and even as she鈥檚 earned national acclaim as an educator, she鈥檚 taken on an array of new roles as a community leader and organizer 鈥� including launching school travel clubs that have given local families some of the joy and perspective that she herself has gained through years of expeditions. 

“I wanted to be part of [a place] where I could directly impact positive change,鈥� she said. 鈥淚 want to be the person that helps take Taylor from surviving to thriving.”

A little bit of the world on the prairie

The daughter of a rancher father and educator mother, Helberg grew up on the family cattle ranch in the Sandhills, a region spanning 19,300 square miles in central Nebraska, dominated by expansive sand dunes and . 

She graduated in a class of 10 students from Loup County School, the very building in which she now teaches, and attended Chadron State College on academic and athletic scholarships. Helberg later moved to Omaha with plans to become a pharmacist, but realized her job working in a drugstore didn鈥檛 include connecting with people as much as she had expected 鈥� and craved.

She talked with her boyfriend, Dan Helberg, himself a teacher 鈥� and now her husband 鈥� and realized she wanted to be an educator, too. 

鈥淚 love learning. I love being around people. I love reading. I love writing. But I really love being a part of a community is what I noticed out of this,鈥� Helberg said. 鈥淎nd as I looked at all of those things that I really enjoyed, I thought, 鈥榊ou know, I think I want to be an English teacher,鈥�  but I want to be an English teacher in a small town because I don’t just want to be a part of the school. I want to be a part of the community.鈥�

After completing her certification and teaching for a year in Omaha, Helberg landed a job as an English teacher in Burwell, Nebraska, about 30 miles from her family鈥檚 ranch. It was the small school community she was looking for and the perfect opportunity to return to Taylor. She and Dan built a home on the family land, next to the house where her parents still live.

Building 鈥榓 tightly woven community of travelers鈥�

It was there, at Burwell Junior-Senior High School that Helberg launched her first travel club, which has taken students, as well as some of their parents, to places like New York, Los Angeles and Washington, D.C. (A planned trip to Spain was derailed by the pandemic.) Helberg says her passion for seeing the world stems from traveling as a child to see extended family. Visiting relatives turned into vacations that exposed her to parts of the country and ways of life she鈥檇 never seen before. 

鈥淎ll of those [trips] really impacted me in a way that I couldn’t get from a book or a movie,鈥� Helberg said. 鈥淚 learned that not everybody is like me here in the Sandhills of Nebraska. I saw different ways of life. I tried different foods. I realized that not all people had a home. I realized that not all people had the same religion and that was OK. And that we need all walks of life to make this world work. And I really had never quite thought about that before, until I started traveling and could see it with my own eyes.鈥�

Helberg knew that the opportunities she had for travel, being from rural Nebraska, were unusual. As a teacher, she wanted to do everything she could to provide similar educational experiences to her students 鈥� and as a member of a rural community, she wanted to find a way to broaden her neighbors鈥� horizons as well. 

鈥淭he travel club was not just for my students, but it was also for their parents and other family members. And that spread into other members of the community as well. Because what I found out is not only had my students not really had a lot of traveling in their background, but a lot of the adults in my community as well. And some were a little intimidated about planning a trip on their own,鈥� she said.

Helberg remembers those initial trips helped participants gain confidence to plan their own subsequent travel. She also said the adventures had a surprising effect on connections within the community, allowing students and adults to see each other in a different light 鈥� an experience that had lasting effects on relationships after returning home. 

鈥淚nstead of the adults just seeing the students out on the basketball court on Saturday night, they’re really getting to interact and know each other and about their lives. And it created this really strong bond between everybody that went on that trip,鈥� Helberg recalls. 鈥淲e had a shared experience that still, many years later, I look at certain people in the community and they say, 鈥極h, I was just thinking about that trip. Remember when this and this and this happened?鈥� And we get a good laugh out of it. 

鈥淪o it’s something that sticks with people and has created this tightly woven community of travelers.鈥�

In addition to showing students and families the museums and attractions of each new city, Helberg takes advantage of opportunities that arise to talk about life in other parts of the world 鈥� and, at times, to question her fellow travelers鈥� assumptions.

One of the things that often comes up on trips with students, she said, is homelessness. 

Until they visit a big city, she said, many students have never seen people living on the street. (According to U.S. Census Bureau data, the median household income in Burwell is $46,691)

鈥淵es, seeing the sights [is] awesome, but it’s sometimes those things that are unexpected or unplanned that lead to some deep conversations,鈥� Helberg said. 鈥淲hen we were in San Francisco, for instance, and saw some homeless people, it led to this pretty deep discussion on the bus as we were going to our next location, about homelessness in America and maybe bringing some issues to [students鈥橾 attention that they never thought about before.鈥�

Visiting new places also spurs conversations about the little joys of living in Nebraska that students might not have appreciated before leaving, she said. Taylor, for example, doesn鈥檛 have the smells 鈥� or the sidewalk trash piles 鈥� that students notice in New York City. 

鈥淭raveling builds confidence and courage, and it builds empathy, and it makes your heart grow,鈥� she said. 鈥淎nd there’s just all these things that they don’t even know that I’m just sprinkling in there through travel, [that] they’ll look back on hopefully someday and [think], 鈥榶eah, that was kind of a turning point for me.鈥欌��

A Teacher of the Year determined to help her community endure

Although she prizes travel and has made friends around the world, Helberg says she鈥檚 most proud to be a rural Nebraskan 鈥� and is not going to give up on her community.

鈥淚’m keeping all opportunities and doors open and stuff like that,鈥� she said. 鈥淏ut no matter where I go, I don’t ever want to abandon this place 鈥� even beyond being a teacher, I think I finally figured out that what I’m really passionate about is small towns and communities. I want this community to make it, and I want to be a part of helping make it go forward.鈥�

Much as her neighbors lifted her up as a 10-year-old, Helberg now spends her hours outside of the classroom striving to enrich the lives of those around her. She runs the local book club, working with the library to secure enough copies of each month鈥檚 selection. When she heard about a family who wanted to move to Taylor but couldn鈥檛 find a suitable home, she and another neighbor formed a committee to study the town鈥檚 housing shortage and search for possible solutions. 

One of Helberg鈥檚 dreams is to create a 鈥渢olerance center鈥� in the small town square 鈥� a dedicated space that would host art shows, author talks, film screenings and other cultural events in hopes of bringing outside realities and points of view straight to the heart of Taylor. 

That would 鈥溾�嬧�媌e like my night job, I guess, my night volunteer work,鈥� she said. 

Taylor resident Carrie Ourada is in the book club and said she 鈥渃an see the teacher come out鈥� in Helberg. 鈥淪he may be a teacher in our school as her profession, but in the community, she’s also helping all of us learn and discover,鈥� Ourada says, pointing to Helberg鈥檚 unique ability to ask questions that push club members to see beyond the surface details of a book and think about the deeper issues at play. 

Ourada, a Loup County Public School alumnus and now the parent of one of Helberg鈥檚 students, is also a former student of Helberg鈥檚 mother, Sue McNeil. McNeil was named Nebraska Teacher of the Year in 1995. Helberg was awarded the very same honor 25 years later, which won her a visit to the White House and a one-on-one sit-down with First Lady Jill Biden.

The is selected by a panel of educators, and the award recognizes teachers who are 鈥渆xceptionally dedicated, knowledgeable, skilled, and who have the ability to inspire students of all backgrounds and abilities to learn,鈥� according to the state education department.

鈥淔irst and foremost, Megan has a passion for the students to learn. I mean, that’s truly it,鈥� said Principal Ken Sheets, who was also Helberg鈥檚 agriculture teacher when she was in school. 鈥淚’ve been impressed [by] how well the students have responded to her.鈥�

It helps, he added, that she had roots in Taylor and understands the interdependence between school and community 鈥� and that her love for the region and for her students is authentic. 

鈥淪he’s genuinely sincere about everything that she does. She doesn’t do anything without her heart being in it,鈥� he said.

Helberg鈥檚 recognition on the national stage fuels her focus locally.  In early February she appeared at a state legislature education committee hearing in Lincoln in support of a that would allow Loup County School to stay open indefinitely as long as enrollment stays above 45 students. Until the bill was passed in April, because of the school鈥檚 small enrollment and its geographic location, the county had to have an election each year to ask residents if they want the school to stay open.

She opened with a chant the town uses to support student-athletes: 鈥淭AYLOR TIDAL WAVE!鈥� Then she described the 鈥渢op-notch education鈥� she and her classmates received at the school and explained that the small class sizes foster an environment where students are encouraged to participate in different activities and commit to being a team player even if they aren鈥檛 a superstar. 鈥淚sn鈥檛 that what we want for our students in today鈥檚 society?鈥� she asked.

鈥淭his bill will allow us to have a future,鈥� she said. 

She explained that in Taylor, the community and the school are interdependent. Even something that seems small such as a basketball game at the school, boosts local businesses like the gas station.

That 鈥� that everyone should be involved in as much as they can 鈥� is perhaps why Helberg is so intimately involved in community efforts beyond the classroom.

鈥淪he really recognizes that in a small community it takes a lot of people to step up into those roles. And you can always say, 鈥榃ell, if I don’t do it, somebody else will.鈥� But in a small community, that’s not always the case because we just don’t have very many people. So if you don’t step up and do it, it might not get done,鈥� said Sarah Sortum, a Loup County School alumna, school board member and the parent of two of Helberg鈥檚 current students.

Both in and out the classroom, Helberg鈥檚 work relies on ever-strengthening relationships. She knows which sports teams the students are on, where they work on the weekends and even which ones were 鈥渟creamers鈥� in church as infants. When a student in her public speaking class made an 鈥渆ntertainment speech鈥� about 鈥渢he worst date ever,鈥� she playfully said she had been expecting him to describe a different bad date he told her about recently.

鈥業 want to be a creator of the good鈥�

Ready for a change, Helberg switched jobs to start teaching 8th through 12th grade English and public speaking at Loup County School in 2021. Helberg鈥檚 classes now range from three to nine students each; total enrollment at the school is 73. There鈥檚 no seventh grade this year because no students that age are enrolled.

Helberg got her classes involved in the local community soon after starting at her alma mater. She plans to launch a travel club there this year with a first trip planned for spring 2023. 

One day in December, the sophomore class wrote Christmas cards for Taylor residents who live alone; the following day, she drove a group of students around in a school-owned van during class to deliver bags of produce to elderly people in town. 

The same week, she drove the sophomore class in the van to Ansley, a neighboring town, to see some of Dan鈥檚 students, who were hosting a community night to show a .

The two classes had recently attended a training session together for the program, created by the Anne Frank House, where students learned about Anne and her family and prepared to share the exhibit with their neighbors. Helberg wanted to support the Ansley students and hoped the event would give her class some ideas for staging their own event. 

Helberg uses opportunities like that 鈥� as well as technology and travel 鈥� to expand her students鈥� horizons, but she respects tradition, too. 

For spelling lessons, she reads out words from a blue speller printed in 1948 while students write them in their notebooks. Inside the book are notes written by her favorite teacher, Kevin Brown, who taught English in the classroom where she works now. Helberg鈥檚 own school photo still hangs behind her desk, where Brown created a 鈥淪peech Wall of Fame鈥� for students who win medals at the state speech competition. She hopes some current students join her on the wall soon.

Helberg also cares deeply about Holocaust education and teaches a unit on it to each class. She learned about the Holocaust first from her mother, who also focused on the topic as an educator, and realized that many of her students didn鈥檛 know much about the topic. (Helberg attended her first Holocaust educator training when she was just 3 years old, tagging along with her mom. Even then she was building strong relationships; one of the educators she met there still regularly Zooms into her class to talk about his Holocause research.)

鈥淭he Holocaust is best taught through stories,鈥� she says, making it a good fit for English class.

Helberg lives by a personal motto, 鈥渇ind the good,鈥� a sentiment she learned during her genocide studies in Rwanda. 鈥淚 was really moved by the spirit of the people,鈥� she said.  A few different versions of this now hang throughout her classroom 鈥� vivid daily reminders of the world beyond. 

鈥淩wanda is still one of the 20 poorest countries in the entire world, yet the people were full of joy. The people were willing to help. The students were excited to go to school, excited to show me what they had learned,鈥� she said. 鈥淎nd despite life not being easy, they went through life with a smile on their face that seemed genuine. And what I got from that trip was how they were always looking for the good. We’re not pretending that bad doesn’t exist, but in spite of that, we are going to actively look for the good.鈥�

She brought that Rwandan wisdom home to 鈥渢he good life鈥� of Nebraska, where she鈥檚 now imparting it to the next generation. 

鈥淚’m not saying that things are perfect. This is not a toxic positivity speech. But it is saying in spite of all these things that are going on, I’m going to actively look for the good. And then I thought that was too easy, so I upped the ante for myself. And in the last couple years, I’ve changed it to, 鈥楲ook for the good, and if you can’t find any, then create it,鈥� 鈥� Helberg said. 

鈥淎ll of us are capable of creating good in some way. And I try to [also] leave that with my students 鈥� OK, you don’t like what’s going on in your school? You don’t like what’s going on in your community? Then, you create some good. Make it a place that you’re proud of 鈥� a place that’s not just surviving, but thriving.

鈥淎nd I’ve carried that with me in my heart and in my mind with everything that I do: I want to create good.鈥�

Emmeline Zhao and James Fields contributed to this report. 

Disclosure: The Walton Family Foundation provides financial support to both the Weave Project and 蜜桃影视. 

A decade ago, Samuel Wallis was teaching in a small city in the Mississippi Delta when students鈥� phones started going off. News of a mass shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary in Newtown, Connecticut stopped his class in its tracks.

鈥淚t was the middle of the school day 鈥� and we just had a crying session together,鈥� recalled Wallis. 鈥淚 was teaching social studies 鈥� like, I’m not going to [keep] teaching them the causes of World War II on that day.鈥�

Looking back on that sad day now, Wallis says his emotional and unguarded experience as a Teach for America fellow strengthened those students鈥� trust in him and forged a classroom bond that ultimately made him a more effective instructor. It altered his approach to the classroom and the trajectory of his Mississippi work 鈥� and it was a powerful lesson about the value of deep connection that stayed with him when he later returned to the city of his childhood: Yonkers, New York. 

Now he puts relationship building at the center of his work, and sets out to weave empathy and human connection into everything he does as head of Yonkers Partners in Education (YPIE), a nonprofit that鈥檚 worked for over a decade to launch low-income students of color into college. By making higher education more accessible to Yonkers teens, many of whom are the first in their family to attend, the program has sent its participants to storied universities such as Duke, Howard and Georgetown. 

High school sophomore Marissa Dias originally joined YPIE (pronounced 鈥渨hy-pie鈥�) seeking support in the college process, she said. But she became fast friends with another young woman who shared her sarcastic sense of humor and appreciated her nerdy jokes. 

鈥淚t was very easy to feel like I was right at home immediately,鈥� Dias told 蜜桃影视. 鈥淪he really is my best friend and YPIE really built our friendship.鈥�

On an afternoon in mid-January, Wallis picks up on a T-shirt Dias is wearing that spells 鈥淎r-C-H-Er-Y鈥� using elements from the periodic table. 

鈥淎re you into Hawkeye?鈥� the executive director asks, referring to the Marvel mini-series that came out over the holidays, which follows the story of a master archer from Avengers: Endgame. 

鈥淗awkeye? Yes,鈥� Dias nods vigorously.

鈥淗ow accurate was the archery? 鈥� Were you critiquing, like, their arm wasn鈥檛 up enough?鈥�

鈥淪ome of the things they did were pretty crazy, but I thought it was accurate,鈥� she says laughing.

Wallis is making his way around the YPIE College Zone, finding reasons to connect with every kid. He roves from desk to desk and chats with youth about everything from the viral internet game to the TV show Money Heist. 

The College Zone is a space separate from the city鈥檚 schools where students as young as ninth grade come in the afternoon for mentorship, tutoring and specialized instruction on their chosen topic area, known as a 鈥渕ajor,鈥� including science research, entrepreneurism and journalism. They also come to see their friends and plug back into this afternoon community. Pre-pandemic, as many as 150 high schoolers would come each day, but during COVID, attendance has generally been closer to 40, Wallis said. On this particular day in mid-January, as Omicron surged, roughly a dozen students spread out across the many tables. Some classrooms sat empty. 

Even at reduced capacity, though, there are giggles and chatter. Students snack on Goldfish and drink tea. Some graduates of the program are home from college for winter break and have come by to catch up with old friends and instructors, and share some of their campus experiences. 

Since joining the team in 2015, Wallis has worked to bake an ethos of community-building and belonging into the organization鈥檚 DNA, carefully designing each element of its programming to help youth feel that they are known and appreciated 鈥� and that they deserve to be there. Even seemingly small details such as classroom names, which are titled for well-known Yonkers streets like Nepperhan and McLean, are meant to add an extra touch of familiarity.

鈥淲e care about their college applications because you have to do that,鈥� he explains. 鈥淏ut within that is a really important piece about relationship-building and feeling like you’re not going through it alone.鈥�

The program is structured for continuity and long-term trust. The organization鈥檚 more than 250 adult volunteer mentors commit to working with students for at least four years, providing a consistent presence through high school. 

鈥淓verything we do with volunteers is predicated on [the idea that] longer is better,鈥� says Wallis. 鈥淵our second time meeting [a student], you鈥檙e not going to be best friends. 鈥� It takes time.鈥�

Many high schoolers begin YPIE in ninth grade and stay through their second year of college. When they join, they鈥檙e paired with an adult mentor and work with YPIE staff to develop individualized learning plans called 鈥溾�� that take into account their skills and interests. As students approach the college application process, the organization schedules campus visits, provides SAT tutoring and guides them through applications and financial aid forms. 

And the results speak for themselves. YPIE, which has a $2 million annual budget, works with over 1,200 students from the city, or about 1 in 5 Yonkers high schoolers. In 2020, of YPIE graduates enrolled at a four-year college compared to 62 percent of peers from similar racial and socio-economic backgrounds.

The services address a pressing need in the 27,000-student district, part of the state’s . There are about in Yonkers schools 鈥� as the ratio recommended by the American School Counselor Association. YPIE鈥檚 鈥渃ollege readiness managers鈥� work in every public high school in the city to help fill in the gap.

鈥淚t鈥檚 so needed,鈥� says Saunders High School Principal Steven Mazzola. 鈥淚t鈥檚 been a great partnership to be able to reach more kids 鈥� because I think it gave them more exposure as to where they could go [to college].鈥� 

Wallis spent his early years in Yonkers before his family moved to another nearby town for his middle and high school years. Many decades ago, his great-grandfather and grandfather used to work as mechanics fixing the city鈥檚 trolley cars in the very building where the YPIE College Zone is now located, he said.

But despite his deep Yonkers roots, it鈥檚 not lost on Wallis that he鈥檚 a white guy leading an organization serving students who, for the most part, don鈥檛 look like him.

鈥淚t鈥檚 probably the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about before I go to bed,鈥� he says.

So he鈥檚 strategic about using what he calls a practice of 鈥渘on-judgemental listening鈥� to engage with students and let them drive the conversation. In a training for YPIE coaches, Wallis shows a YouTube video titled 鈥�.鈥� In it, a woman 鈥� who has a carpenter鈥檚 nail jutting out of her forehead 鈥� shares about the pain she鈥檚 been having. A man listens, and after unsuccessfully suggesting that she remove the nail, settles on a simple response of, 鈥淭hat sounds really hard.鈥�

It鈥檚 a comedic example, but one that Wallis believes illustrates a central truth about the style of mentorship to which he and his organization aspire. He has no interest in what he calls 鈥渇inger-wagging.鈥� Instead, he seeks to be a guide and a support.

Good mentors talk less, listen more and keep showing up, says Wallis. The program trains coaches not to pull away when students miss meetings or don鈥檛 respond to text messages, but rather to double down. In many cases, students may be going through something difficult, and it鈥檚 when they need support from the adults in their lives the most, the organization teaches its mentors. When youth get back in touch, coaches don鈥檛 chastise them for going M.I.A., but rather celebrate their return.

鈥淥ne of the things we’ve really driven and trained staff to do is, if we finally are able to bring [a student] back, it’s not, 鈥榃here have you been?鈥� but 鈥業’m so happy to see you,鈥欌�� explains Wallis. 

It underscores the key message to students: 鈥淚t鈥檚 OK to struggle. That鈥檚 when we鈥檙e gonna be there for you.鈥�

Back at the College Zone, graduate Citlalli Rojas Huerta, who now attends Trinity College in Hartford, Connecticut has returned to tutor students in the science research major 鈥� and she鈥檚 armed with evidence of her college success. She鈥檚 holding a printed copy of her first academic publication, the result of hours of work as a research assistant on a project examining approaches professors can take toward teaching STEM. 

That accomplishment, she says, is a testament to the impact YPIE has had on her life. She describes herself as having been a 鈥渟hy, quiet kid,鈥� when she joined, but opened up at YPIE thanks to Wallis鈥檚 support, giving her confidence and setting her on a trajectory to dream bigger.

鈥淗e really did help me, not just with things that were school-related, but emotionally as well,鈥� she explains.

鈥淭he community here, it鈥檚 a beautiful thing,鈥� adds college readiness manager Fatima Cisse, who is working with a group of three freshman girls on their anatomy homework in another classroom. Cisse herself was a student at YPIE years back and rejoined the community as a staff member during the pandemic.

鈥淚 think that鈥檚 one of the best things about YPIE is we鈥檙e just such a family,鈥� she says.

Disclosure: The Walton Family Foundation provides financial support to both the Weave Project and 蜜桃影视.

Lead Image: YPIE Executive Director Samuel Wallis chats with students before the pandemic. (YPIE)