Second-grade teacher Julianne DeHaan has left an indelible mark on generations of Richmond and Spring Grove students,— much like the satisfying impression of a soft, but firm, hug. On June 5, the last bus rolled across the school’s worn horseshoe driveway, bursting with the joyful shouts of children freed for the summer.  However, in a crowded classroom that had, over nine months, become the home away from home for 23 children who learned to respect each other, to work together as family, and to love learning, Mrs. DeHaan quietly tucked the last of her personal items in a box and closed the book on an extraordinary 18-year career.

 It was Julianne DeHaan’s soft but firm approach to teaching that motivated even the most reluctant students learn to read, write cursive, follow the rules— and most importantly— try their best. After all, they loved her like a grandmother, and they wanted to please her.

“All teachers have their own style,” DeHaan said in an interview just days before the end of school. She is well known in the community for her loving and no-nonsense teaching methods.

 “Children have to know what’s expected of them,” DeHaan said. “They have to know that they must do the same kind of work every day, with no fooling around.” Often, she said, the first day of school is as tough on her as it is for some of her students.

 “On that first day, I lay the law down, and some of the kids aren’t used to that. Sometimes I haven’t liked myself after that first day.  But we  all make the rules together. After a month of school, it just flows.”

If a student decided to challenge  the white-haired, broad-shouldered woman by ignoring a rule, all she had to do was open her eyes wide and peer sideways at the child, and he or she (or anyone else in the room for that matter) would know Mrs. DeHaan meant business. “I tell the kids that I don’t hesitate to use the phone” to notify parents of mischief, she said.

After a couple of months, even parents who might have worried at first that she was too strict usually came to love her. “She’s old school but makes accommodations for the times,” said Randy Morin, whose youngest son, Paul, was in her class.

One recent innovation in DeHaan’s classroom was inspired by Cindy Geest, her daughter, who is also a teacher. Geest had read about a teacher who sent home sticky notes and asked each student’s parent to write an inspirational message. This year, RGS parents wrote such phrases as “We know you can do it!” or “Do your best!” and DeHaan’s students taped the notes to their desks. If DeHaan thought a child needed to buckle down, she would simply point to the note without saying a word.

“Boy did that do the trick,” she said.

With DeHaan’s retirement, parents of first graders will no longer clamor each May to request her as their child’s second-grade teacher. Richmond’s first-grade teachers will no longer reflexively assign their spunkiest kids to DeHaan. Her former second-grade colleagues will have to carry on the school’s wildly successful chick-hatching program without DeHaan, who started the project in 1991. And the former students (and their parents) who have gone back to the school year after year to visit her will discover that Mrs. DeHaan is relaxing at her Wisconsin summer house or at home playing her new digital piano or catching up on her reading.

“I’ve loved every minute of what I’ve done,” she says. “But it’s time to close this chapter of my life.” DeHaan plans to spend more time with her four children and 11 grandchildren, who all live far away from Richmond.  The reading part’s important too—DeHaan started reading a Nicholas Sparks novel in September and didn’t finish it until May. That’s because she was limited to reading the book in the 20-minute spurts known as “SSR,” or sustained silent reading. After all, she was much too busy teaching her  second-graders first  to read words, then sentences, and finally stories on their own.

Julianne DeHaan has lived in McHenry County all her life. She was born in Harvard, where she attended school half-way through third grade, when her family moved to a farm in Alden. She finished the year at Alden Grade School. The school no longer stands. But it lives on in her memory as the place she met Charlie, whom she married in 1962. Over the years, in his various roles as classroom handyman, field-trip chaperone, and model-train engineer, Charlie DeHaan became as familiar a face to his wife’s students as were the antics of the Boxcar Children or Wilbur in Charlotte’s Web.

At Alden Grade School “there were only three girls in the class,” she recalls, chuckling. “He didn’t have much to pick from!” After DeHaan graduated from Northern Illinois University, the couple married. She moved to Richmond, where 40 years ago Charlie had set up his Main-Street barber shop, and where they’ve lived ever since.

DeHaan started out as a substitute teacher in 1970. In 1985, she was an aide to Marcia Orsolini, who taught a combined class of second- and third-graders. After serving 28 years in the district, Orsolini retired this year as well. When a full-time teaching spot opened in 1985, DeHaan jumped at the chance. By all accounts, the school was lucky to have her.

Linda Aavang, who has taught fifth grade at RGS for more than 30 years, has looked upon Julianne DeHaan as a role model, as have scores of other Richmond teachers.

“Not only did Julianne become a great role model for me as a teacher, but she also was a great role model for my family as well. We always have said that when we raised our kids we used the ‘G.O.D. Theory of Child Rearing.’ Those letters stood for Gardner, Olson, DeHaan—three families from Richmond who raised 11 incredible children among themselves.”

Aavang added, “I recently spoke to a parent about school and teachers at RGS. This parent remarked that Mrs. DeHaan not only taught the curriculum but infused into her second graders a true sense or morality, manners, and right living. She was, is, and always will be a Super Star in my estimation.”

It’s true, part of DeHaan’s secret is that she runs her classroom as if it were her own family. Her strategies? Make the rules together so that each student buys into them. Teach children the meaning of respect— for adults as well as for each other. Learn to laugh with the children— especially the harmless antics of the “naughty ones.”  Help children through transitions,—DeHaan uses a treasure trove of endearing songs to announce that it’s time to switch subjects, for example. Positive reinforcement works wonders, too she said. For example, children who receive 10 stickers for finishing reading assignments get to sit at her desk or invite a friend from another class for lunch.

Another critical aspect of DeHaan’s success, she says, is the loyal support she got from local parents. Each year, a small army of moms and dads volunteered in DeHaan’s classroom for a variety of duties, from doing flashcards with the children to hanging posters. DeHaan said the surest guarantee of a child’s success is parental involvement in the learning process. “Read to your kids at home,” she advised. “Do the flashcards. Come to conferences. After all, this is your child’s home away from home. It’s important to ask them what they’ve done each day.”

Since DeHaan shared so much of her personal life with her students, she started a last-day-of-school tradition, “the Mrs. DeHaan quiz.” Questions include What’s my favorite color? (yellow); What’s my middle name? (she doesn’t have one); How many children do I have? (four); How many grandchildren do I have? (11 and counting); What does my husband do for a living? (he’s a barber, but one confused student wrote “clown.”).

Although DeHaan was always gratified when her students could answer the questions (Some former students, now grown up, still can.), she gets a bigger sense of accomplishment watching each student develop over the course of the school year.

“When I think about those kids when they come to me in

September. . . they’re like sponges. . .  I’m so satisfied on that last day to see how far they’ve come. They’ve learned to read, to write cursive, and they’ve learned how to get along well with each other.”

 “That’s the best feeling of all,” she said.