This June, three veteran high school teachers ended their service to the students and parents of this community.

John Schmoyer, Glenn Frey and Cathy McCullough amassed more than a hundred years of teaching at Northwestern.

Schmoyer taught U.S. history and government to ninth and 10th graders for 37 years.

His career began with a single decision that determined the rest of his teaching life.

"I had three job offers on the same day," said Schmoyer, who chose to work at Northwestern over Parkland and Lehighton.

"I thought Northwestern was going to be the next Parkland in terms of being a growing school district," he said. "[I thought Northwestern would] follow in the footsteps of Parkland and I wanted to be part of it.

"When Dave Smith hired me, I started at a salary of $10,500."

Schmoyer said teaching American Government is easy.

"You're using current events to teach the subject," he said, citing 9/11 the war in Iraq and elections as examples.

"We made it relative to the kids. We even made them register to vote.

"We wanted to help them become better citizens and set them straight."

Although class discussions were often on hot button issues, Schmoyer said he tried not to force his own opinion on his students.

"I wanted them to reach conclusions of their own and to be able to think critically about things [especially] sensitive issues," he said.

Schmoyer also served as a coach for years.

"Coaching was secondary to teaching but I always wanted to be a coach," he said.

Schmoyer became head coach of basketball at age 23.

"I was kind of thrown into the fire," he said. "I had to learn it on my own [but] I thought I could work well with kids.

"I coached baseball with Lenny [Smith] for 10 years.

"I also worked with Chris Zuber and Bruce Trotter coaching basketball."

Schmoyer said he values the people he works with.

"Without them [teaching] would be a 7 to 3 job. It didn't seem like a job. It seemed like I was having fun," he explained.

A sense of humor is also key.

"Without humor I would not be a teacher," said Schmoyer. "Every day I had to use it. If you could make students laugh, you have them."

Schmoyer said teaching is a noble profession.

"It certainly is a job where there is stability, plus you keep getting better," he said. "You're always dealing with different personalities.

"The profession has changed. No doubt you don't have as much parental support.

"The parents supported the school and the profession more. Today it seems as though people are in a hurry.

"They want to get into the next level without realizing or understanding the point they're at."

Schmoyer said education is heavy lifting, hard heavy lifting.

"In many respects teaching is both rewarding and frustrating, but once in while you get a kid that walks out of the classroom and says, 'See you Mr. Schmoyer. Have a good weekend.'

"That keeps you going for a couple of years."

Schmoyer recently received a letter, that took him aback, from an unlikely student.

"The kid said he really liked my teaching style and my passion. Then he wrote 'I hope I become half the man you are,'" he said.

Frey spent the last 36 years teaching.

Born and raised in this community, he graduated from Northwestern in 1974 and taught at Parkland first.

Right from the start, Frey wanted to be a change agent.

"When I came here I taught physical science and physics," he said. "But I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to change some of the ways we did things so I worked to change the physics curriculum.

"Physical science is actually a seventh and eighth grade course.

"I [also] taught gifted science. I brought to it my love and my interest."

Frey said in the 1980s he taught a microcomputer class.

"We had a state of the art Radio Shack computer lab in the Valley [where] I taught computer programming," Frey said. "My classes were always filled."

This affinity for technology put Frey at the vanguard of the movement to use computers in the schools.

"I basically took a microcomputer to the school board and showed them how it could benefit the students," he said. "You learned programming back in college and I did all this work for my professor. "Penn State contacted me to see if I would teach programming."

For years, Frey taught at Penn State while teaching at the high school.

"I'm not qualified to teach math, though I have a Master's degree in math," he said. "Mathematics is my lense on the world."

Frey said that "truly loving my subject and sharing it" has been most important."

"I love the sciences and mathematics. I like when you see a kid get it" said Frey, adding that teaching is much more than memorizing a few facts. "Kids won't remember that but they will remember how to think."

"I still have pictures of one student who built a sterling engine," he said reflecting on his long career. "You remember kids who you made a connection with and they [often] drop you a note that say thanks."

"It's a strange feeling. "I love these kids so much but the environment has gotten borderline toxic.

"It's easy to blame the teachers for everything that goes wrong."

"When I look back on a student like JoeYazi, who has a Ph.D., or when you talk vectors, I feel good about what I've accomplished. I can look back and say I've done it right."

With retirement, Frey is ready for even more change.

"It's going to give me a chance to do things I've put on the back burner," he said. "I can get back to my radio control hobby plus get my gardens back up again."

McCullough said she started working as a teacher in 1981-82.

"I actually coached at Parkland for a year," she said, adding that Justin Zimmerman's father who was the Ad at the time.

To say McCullough's ties to Northwestern run deep is an understatement.

"I went to school here from grades one to 12," said the 1975 homecoming queen. "We were the first grade to be in the elementary building."

McCullough recalled "third grade at the fire hall in New Tripoli. It had accordion doors to separate [different groups]."

McCullough lamented the lack of equipment for recess.

"We had nothing," she said. "We went to the creek and looked for things to catch, turning over rocks as we looked for frogs."

It was coaching that drew McCullough to teaching.

As her own coaches were teachers, McCullough never considered a different way to work as a coach herself.

"Lorraine Carey was my coach and she was in the building and Shelva [Keilman] was my coach in basketball," she said. "So I thought if you want to be a coach you've got to be a teacher."

"At first I thought of teaching math," McCullough said, but later dismissed the idea opting for health and physical education.

"Sometimes I think it's me who has changed more than the job or the kids," she said. "I think it's a generational thing. Things always will change slightly. There are always some slightly different ways to do something."

McCullough could not help but recall "all the things that come down the pike" as far as education is concerned.

"The major heart and soul doesn't change though," she said admitting "the kids have changed me."

McCullough explained that when she first started teaching her major goal and challenge was making sure she had control, but with the years, that became less critical."

"My perspective has changed," she said. "I still think the kids in this building generally speaking are awesome. They've change me more than I've changed them."

"Where I felt I could really connect with the kids was when I was coaching," said McCoullough, the storied field hockey coach. "I was in the trenches with them."

"Fate intervenes sometimes," said McCullough. "I have loyalty to this school. Just like the old Beach Boys song says 'be true to your school.'"

McCullough said retirement will provide new opportunities.

"I think I will need to find my way. I'll stay open to find different things to do, whether that's Habitat for Humanity or Meals on Wheels," she said.

"I've [also] toyed with the idea of working as a personal trainer for older adults."

"That part of me does not go away. You have an offering and that's a service [to provide]. It has to be something that involves people and a gathering of some sort."