By the time she took the dais at the Arapaho Charter High School graduation this spring, Principal Katie Law was beyond tired. She’d spent the last two days coaching students at the state track meet, and they made the drive back to Wyoming’s Wind River Indian Reservation just in time for the ceremony.

Maybe it was the fatigue of the trip. Maybe it was the years she spent herding this class to the finish line. The hours answering their phone calls, figuring out plan Bs, worrying about them at every setback.

As she addressed the crowd, Law was nearly overcome with emotion. She paused before regaining control. There was so much to celebrate. 

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On this day, 14 students donned caps and gowns, the largest graduating class in the school’s history. Among them were a record four students who graduated at least a semester early and three who were dual enrolled in a community college. Eight were headed to college or Job Corps. 

For a tiny school that lags far behind conventional performance measures, these were significant wins. 

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The school, which serves majority Native American students, reports higher-than-average rates of foster care, homelessness and involvement in the criminal justice system. Some 70% of students live in single-parent households or have a deceased parent. In 2018, the on-time graduation rate was 0%. 

I spent four months visiting the school during the semester before graduation this year. Data points can’t capture the hurdles they faced — lost loved ones and an education system that’s historically failed Indigenous students. 

But what the seniors had to their advantage was an advocate and a reliable source of support: Principal Katie Law. An athletic white woman, Law often engaged in tasks that went beyond traditional principal duties. She made sure to learn the personal lives, history and family dynamics of all her students. 

Well before Law was recently awarded Principal of the Year by the Wyoming Association of Secondary Schools in a surprise ceremony, it was clear she had a rare level of commitment. 

“You’re not going to find another principal or educator that puts as much time in as she does in the evenings, on the weekends,” District Superintendent Curt Mayer said.

Law helps students get their driver’s licenses, chaperones college visits and makes calls when kids get arrested. Students have gone to Law with news that they are pregnant, and she has later cared for their infants in her office while they attend class. 

The motivation is simple. “I want to see these students succeed, and I’m going to do what it takes,” she said.

Law grew up in Colstrip, Montana — 30 miles from the Northern Cheyenne Indian Reservation. She was the daughter of educators, and never thought she would enter that world. 

But she wanted to help people, and education ultimately became the vehicle for that. During her first year of teaching in Nebraska, she found a distraught student crying in the bathroom one day and sat comforting her for an hour. When Law saw her years later, the student told her she was a pivotal teacher. It dawned on Law then that she’s different.

“I get a lot of, ‘That’s not your job,'” she says. “I’m like, ‘I know, but whose job is it?'”

She was hired to teach in the Arapaho school’s district 18 years ago, at age 23. The school was rough. Drug use and gang violence were common. She kept her head down, helped where she could. Slowly, she started building relationships. 

The work can be devastating, and many fixes don’t last. Law is stubborn. “I think my biggest asset is, I won’t give up.”

Law doesn’t pretend to share a background with her reservation students, but she uses her own experiences to build empathy. School didn’t come easily to her. Her brother died young from diabetes. And she witnessed a murder at age 14. These are experiences her students can relate to.

It seems to work. At graduation, the seniors handed out roses to people who were meaningful. Law received six roses, and six heartfelt hugs.  

It’s not realistic to expect all struggling schools to find administrators like Law, who live and breathe their jobs and don’t burn out. Still, parents and educators can take this to heart: One caring adult can make an enormous difference in a student’s life. 

Katie Klingsporn is a contributor to Writers on the Range, an independent nonprofit dedicated to spurring conversation about Western issues. For more, go to WritersOnTheRange.com.