SNOHOMISH — When Sonya Herrera picked up her class schedule last fall, she gulped when she saw who she had for government and law.
“Oh no,” the senior thought. “I’ve got Mr. Gionet. I don’t know if I’m ready for this.’”
Herrera isn’t the first student to fret when ending up in a Tuck Gionet civics class at Snohomish High School.
He was known as a tough teacher with no tolerance for cellphones, late papers or being tardy. Gionet was well aware of his reputation. He’d like to say: “I know there is prayer in school because there are prayers they won’t get me.”
Ask Herrera a year later about Gionet and she laughs. Gionet was just as advertised: a demanding teacher who challenged his students to think critically. He eked out every second of instruction time.
Herrera grew to cherish him.
“He expected so much out of you,” she said. “You had to push yourself but I learned so much about myself because of Mr. Gionet. I looked up to him. He was like a grandfather owl at the school who looked over everything and made sure everything is okay.”
Sonya and her twin sister, Prisila, graduated last spring. Both had a class with Gionet.
On Saturday evening, they pedalled their bicycles to the northeast corner of the high school where they placed a bouquet of red roses beneath the old oak tree. All sorts of flowers, along with letters and mementos, could be found beneath the local landmark.
Online tributes poured in after news of Gionet’s death circulated around the small town. Often the theme was the same, grateful former students writing about how he influenced their lives.
Gionet kept teaching, coaching track and pushing his students to the very end during an up-and-down, two-year battle with cancer. He died early Saturday morning. He was 55.
Prisila Herrera said she barely passed Gionet’s class. That didn’t diminish her admiration.
She got to know Gionet differently from most students. When she was diagnosed with depression, Gionet insisted that she come see him each morning before school. He wanted to check on how she was doing.
“I think he knew everybody’s limits before they knew their limits themselves,” she said.
He may have been ill, but many people figured Gionet would beat cancer. He had smarts, gumption and perseverance. Besides, it would be hard to imagine Snohomish High School without him.
As he had for more than 30 years, he’d show up to school every day in slacks, a button-down shirt and tie, often squeezing chemo treatment between class and track practice.
“He was like Superman,” said Jay Hagen, who has spent 18 years on the Snohomish School Board. “We lost a big part of our community, didn’t we? You don’t replace him. You can’t. You never will.”
“Kids would say he was very demanding and they never learned so much in their lives,” Snohomish School District Superintendent Bill Mester said.
To Beth Porter, his principal of more than a decade, Gionet tried to impart insight into country ways, supplying her with eggs from his chickens and explaining local phrases and traditions. He wanted her to feel like she belonged in Snohomish.
Gionet was named civics teacher of the year for Washington state in 2013.
“It must have been a random drawing,” he mused.
Perhaps Gionet’s greatest gift was to make school relevant to his students.
They were expected to host forums for local, state and federal candidates and to spend time working on political campaigns. In a government and economics class, they’d learn how to fill out IRS 1040 long forms as well as about mortgages and interest rates. They weren’t just expected to watch the State of the Union address, but to identify key issues beforehand, evaluate what was said and write about it.
Every Friday, they’d take a current events quiz on a half-sheet of paper to make sure they were paying attention to the world around them.
His students would research and draft bills that they would lobby for on annual trips to the Capitol in Olympia. He’d hand out ties to boys who didn’t own one so they could make a good impression. His students were expected to have five appointments set up with lawmakers or staff members before they left and to make convincing cases for their proposal. Often, they were able to persuade politicians to sponsor their legislation and were called back to testify at hearings.
“I looked up to him like no other,” said Josh Harmon, a 2015 graduate who took a class from Gionet and ran track. “He gave you everything you needed to live a successful life.”
And then some, Harmon added.
A case in point: Prom etiquette.
Gionet would carve out time to teach his students which fork is used for what food and proper soup spoon technique. Young men learned to rise in unison when a young woman stood up from the table.
Students and colleagues can recite a long list of what they call Gionet-isms: No whining. For cryin’ out loud. Don’t do anything stupid. You’re a charter member of the procrastinators’ club.
Some Gionet-isms appeared on T-shirts around campus.
He was a mix of conviction and candor.
“I don’t get paid to manage kids,” Gionet once said. “I get paid to teach kids. Teaching is not a bunch of work sheets and movies. It’s the interaction with kids and making a difference in their lives.”
Behind the high-energy, high-expectations educator was a compassionate man who strongly believed in community service.
Over the years, Gionet helped the blind learn to fish. He took students to nursing homes to sing Christmas carols. He connected high school students with youngsters from nearby elementaries. He had students research the 81 names on a war memorial at the school’s stadium and organize an assembly.
He wanted his students to realize that community extended beyond the insular brick walls of the high school.
On Friday nights in the fall, he worked the clock at football games. When graduates would stop by, no matter how many years removed from the school, he’d greet them by name.
He had a knack for names, always making it a goal to know all of his students by the end of the first week of class. As for his own, his real first name is Charles. Friends said he became Tuck when his sister couldn’t pronounce Charles as a little girl.
His students recognized his health challenges and hoped for the best.
Jessica Chrisman, who threw the discus and shot put for four years, would see her track coach show up to practice after chemo. He’d be wearing three layers of coats, gloves and a hat in 70-plus degree weather. She knew he wanted to be there for them, even when he was hurting.
“I loved that man,” she said.
Eyonna Mason, who ran track for four years, earned an 89.98 percent in Gionet’s civics class. She knew how much he cared about her. She also knew he wouldn’t round her grade up to an A-. She’s quite content with the B+ and the lessons learned along the way.
She smiles at the memories of her teacher and coach being in her corner — even when there was a time conflict between district track finals and prom.
“You are going to run,” Gionet told her.
She did, and wore her prom dress on the awards podium afterward.
To Mason and many other students, Gionet was a master at playing the devil’s advocate. It wasn’t enough to have an opinion. He expected them to be able to defend their thoughts. That, Mason said, was one of the greatest bits of wisdom he taught her.
Gionet’s death was particularly hard on Mark Perry, a former math teacher and football and wrestling coach who is now the school’s athletic director. The pair broke in together at Snohomish High School in the early 1980s. Their families grew close over the years.
“It has been a great journey with a great friend,” Perry said Sunday. “He was obviously a great educator, a terrific coach, a community service advocate of all types. He was, above all, the guy who led by example.”
Gionet is survived by his wife and three grown children.
On Sunday, arrangements were being ironed out for a public memorial service at the high school, most likely a week from now.
Eric Stevick: 425-339-3446; stevick@heraldnet.com.
Talk to us
> Give us your news tips.
> Send us a letter to the editor.
> More Herald contact information.
