There are teachers, and then there are teachers like Mr. Shepard.
One of the reasons I have taught at Williston Northampton for the past twenty-six years is rooted in my formative junior and senior years at an independent school. At the heart of those years was Mr. Shepard, my Honors Spanish II teacher during my senior year. He made an indelible mark on my confidence, nurtured my ability to learn the Spanish language, and ignited my curiosity about the cultures that speak it.
Even today, thirty-five years after sitting in his classroom, his infectious smile, welcoming personality, and sincere engagement with his students continue to inspire and inform my teaching style. Mr. Shepard fostered a learning environment where every student was seen, heard, and valued—from the moment they entered his classroom to the moment the bell rang.
Spanish class with Mr. Shepard was much more than a traditional course built on vocabulary drills and grammar exercises. It was a vibrant, dynamic experience shaped by a variety of learning sources. We read curated texts about the diversity of Spanish-speaking cultures, listened to his personal travel stories—like the time he learned local songs in the Dominican Republic with his guitar—and tackled the irregular forms of the past-perfect subjunctive. His teaching style struck a rare balance: rigorous yet accessible, deep yet broad, challenging yet encouraging.
My efforts in his class earned me the Spanish II book prize, which came with a book on Spain’s landscapes. Inside, Mr. Shepard had penned a dedication: “Nat, when your children are older, send them to me so I can continue the Simpson tradition. Seriously, thank you for your interest; you truly deserve this prize. Enjoy it!”
His words and support motivated me to take the leap and join the school’s trimester-abroad program in northern Spain during my senior spring. Along with five classmates, I left behind the familiar comfort of our school’s rolling green hills and the majestic sights of the Connecticut River to immerse myself in a country I had only read about. I studied at a local institute, lived with a host family I had never met, and navigated a new culture entirely in Spanish.
After an initial wave of culture shock, I found myself comfortably wandering the city’s plazas mayores and touring its renowned Gothic cathedral. Everything clicked during those three months in Burgos—my knowledge of verbs and vocabulary combined with my cultural lessons from Mr. Shepard’s class gave me the tools to fully embrace the experience. That trimester changed everything: I didn’t just study Spanish; I lived it. I fell in love with the language and its cultures, and the rest is history.
Since my high school graduation, I have made it a priority to stay in touch with Mr. Shepard. After he retired, I would occasionally visit him at his home when I was in the area. Summers were an especially relaxed time to catch up, as we sat in his den chatting about our lives while his golden retriever competed for my attention.
He always wanted to know about me—how my Spanish classes at Williston were going, what material I was teaching, and what I loved most about being in the classroom. He never failed to ask about my older brother, who had also been his Spanish student. In return, he shared stories about his daily bicycle rides up and down Main Street, how much he enjoyed the summer air, and his efforts to stay active.
It felt surreal to sit across from my former Spanish teacher, talking with him as a fellow educator so many years after being his student. One particularly memorable moment was when Mr. Shepard visited my Spanish classes at Williston. Guitar in hand, he stepped into my middle and upper school classrooms and sang the same Spanish songs I had learned from him decades earlier. Watching my students light up in the same way I had in his class was a full-circle moment I will never forget.
Even now, I still visit with Mr. Shepard where he resides. Though much has changed in both of our lives, our friendship remains the same. One thing that has never wavered is his ability to make me feel seen, heard, and valued. He still asks about my teaching at Williston, my family, and my brother—just as he always has. The same man who welcomed me into his Spanish classroom in 1988 is, in so many ways, the same man who welcomes me when I visit him today.
Now, when I pick up a whiteboard marker and look out at my Spanish students, I often find myself reflecting on my time in Mr. Shepard’s classroom. I may not play the guitar or have a jukebox memory of Dominican songs, but I strive to engage my students with meaning and purpose. I want to awaken in them the same curiosity and confidence that Mr. Shepard nurtured in me. I endeavor to create a classroom where each student is seen, heard, and valued—just as he did.
I felt compelled to write this article to acknowledge and celebrate the profound impact Mr. Shepard has had on my life, both as a teacher and as a human being. We all have educators who shape not just our academic journeys but also our confidence, aspirations, and personal growth. Their influence extends far beyond the classroom. I look forward to bringing this article on my next visit to Mr. Shepard, reading it to him, and celebrating his legacy. When that moment comes, I will be the one saying:
“Seriously, thank you for your interest—you truly deserve this prize. Enjoy it.”
This is my story. Who is your Mr. Shepard?
Nat Simpson is a Spanish teacher at Williston. He has taught here for 26 years.
