Scott Swanson
Former colleagues and students at Sweet Home High School are mourning the loss of Melissa Klumph, who taught mathematics at the high school for nearly 20 years, much of that during a years-long battle with cancer.
Klumph, 43, died Sunday, March 7.
She is being remembered as a kind, thoughtful and inspiring teacher whose influence on students extended far beyond the classroom walls.
“She was an excellent math teacher and she was always looking for ways to help kids,” said Chris Hiasson, assistant principal at the high school and one of Klumph’s longtime workout partners.
Klumph, an exceptional athlete in high school, brought a lot of energy not only to the classroom but also to her relationships with many people.
A post announcing Klumph’s death on the high school’s Husky Pride Facebook page drew hundreds of views and dozens of comments, many noting Klumph’s personal interest in students and their families, and her skills as a teacher who knew how to engage students. Multiple posts included phrases such as “one of a kind,” “amazing,” “caring,” “one of the best teachers I ever had.”
Klumph was known to call students who weren’t stepping up to the bar in her math classes, and she’d listen to them, Hiasson said.
One former student told how he’d skipped school to go fishing and got a call from Klumph: “Hey, this is your math teacher calling.”
Another related how she’d crashed her bike on Highway 20 and Klumph stopped to check on her when she realized who it was. Later, when that student had another accident on some ice in front of the high school, Klumph stopped in at another teacher’s classroom to check on the girl.
Still another recalled how Klumph offered to pay her school fees so she could graduate on time.
Maria Daniels, who is finishing a master’s degree in math at Oregon State University, where Klumph also got her degree before launching her teaching career at Sweet Home in 2003, said her former teacher was “one of the biggest reasons why I chose to pursue a career as a high school math teacher.”
“I’m just finishing up school, but in classes, when reflecting on how I want my classroom to be structured, I often try to think back on how Mrs. Klumph structured hers. Oftentimes, people don’t really remember much about the content you learned at school, but rather how the teacher treated and viewed you.”
Fellow SHHS teacher Tomas Rosa said Klumph had an uncanny sense for when to reach out.
“She would call me on this day because she knew it was a rough day. But it wasn’t just me. She was doing it for, like, hundreds of other people.”
Hiasson said she noticed a common theme in comments following Klumph’s passing: “I think that one of the things that I read, kept reading over and over, is how she made everyone feel like they were the most important person.
“I think that she noticed everybody and remembered things about them. She noticed kids who would kind of be quiet and she wouldn’t let them do that. ‘I’m trying to slide under the radar.’ ‘No you’re not.’
Daniels also noted Klumph’s concern for those on the perimeters: “I remember her ability to look at the ‘unseen’ student and make them feel accepted and known in her class. She was so patient and never made anyone feel like a burden for needing help or interrupting.
“I was her (teaching assistant) one year, and I was shocked when one day she trusted me to drive her car and pick something up from her house. I was just a teenager, but she treated me like an adult and with respect.”
Hiasson noted that one former student wrote on Facebook about how she was going through rough time.
“On her prep period, (Klumph) walked with her to go get coffee and let her vent,” Hiasson said.
Daniels recalled how Klumph always seemed to be positive, “how she started the day with so much spunky, up-beat energy.”
“I remember her neon sticky notes – which I still have, that she would give to students when she could tell they were having an off day.”
Said one Facebook poster: “I can’t say that math was by any means my favorite subject, but Mrs. Klumph was always making it way more entertaining than it should have been.
She was a “great math teacher” said Ann Knight, who teaches in the high school math department.
Knight said Klumph’s relationships helped her connect with kids, attending their games, concerts and plays, participating in school assemblies – “just fun. Fun in the classroom. Fun in assemblies.”
But Klumph put in the work on the other end as well.
“We’d go home from church on Sunday morning and I’d see her car in back of C Building (on the high school campus),” Knight said.
“That’s the other part of it, just being well-prepared. She kept us in stitches, laughing. She was a strong math teacher but she was fun to be around. She was the whole package.”
She was innovative. Rosa remembers how, long before the coronavirus made Zoom classes routine, Klumph used Skype to connect with students in her advanced math class while she was being treated for cancer.
She never lost her love of athletics, participating in a cross-fit group for years with Hiasson and Nancy Ellis, who was nearing retirement.
Rosa recalls the day, as a young teacher, he decided to join in, figuring he would be fine. After all, he was just a couple of years out of college wrestling.
“I show up and we do a toe to bar drill (in which participants jump and grab an overhead bar, then jacknife their body to bring their toes up to the bar and down again.)
“Melissa just crushed me. She was lapping me. Nancy Ellis was lapping me. Melissa was going through chemo. That just shows her tenacious character.”
Klumph, on occasion, would jump into a group of cross-country athletes and go on a run with them.
Rosa, who is the school’s Leadership instructor, said Klumph was involved in nearly every activity – Homecoming, May Week, judging Milli Vanilli – “just making memories and fun stuff for kids.”
“She did it because it was good for kids.”
Daniels said that Klumph stayed in touch with her as she move on through college.
“She cared deeply about her students, even after they were not her students any more,” she said. “As I work on getting a job and establishing a classroom of my own, I will always strive to be like Mrs. Klumph. I want to care for others as deeply as she did, and bring as much fun into the classroom as she did.
“It breaks my heart that she is no longer with us, but I know that her impact will last a lifetime.