From the Sandhills of Nebraska to a 40-year teaching career in Clay Center, Brad Conner is rooted in small towns. His hometown of Arnold, he said, was so small (then it had a population of 800) that coming to Clay felt like a big city. 

However, driving in for the first time, crossing the west river bridge and passing a John Deere dealership, he said it felt like home. Arnold, too, had a river at the edge of town, and his father, LV, had co-owned the local Deere shop for decades. 

“That’s the way it was at home, so I felt at home,” he said. 

Conner took the job in 1984 after receiving his degree from the University of Nebraska at Kearney. Out of 27 graduates in his field of industrial arts education, he and one other got a job. 

After a different job interview, Conner ran into – literally – Dean Oberhelman, former asst. superintendent for USD 379.

“I was turning the corner, and I ran smack-dab into him,” Conner said. “That was so embarrassing. I apologized.” The pair grabbed a cup of coffee and chatted before going their separate ways.

Two weeks later, Oberhelman called with a job offer.

“It was just a freak accident; I had him fooled anyway,” he joked.

Conner began teaching at the former McKinley Middle School at 731 Crawford. He worked out of the basement, where the wood shop was located. 

“We were under the stage and if kids jumped, part of the light fixtures would fall down in my room,” he said.

In 1993, CCCMS was opened, where Conner continued to teach. Though thankful for a new shop, he said McKinley held fond memories. For instance, when LV came to visit, the pair rearranged classroom desks. Another time, Conner taped a bag of marbles under a teacher’s desk, so it fell in a loud mess. Also at McKinley, co-worker mailed Conner his coursework for a by-mail college class. Conner spent two summers in a dorm at UNK finishing his master’s.

Another prank occurred when a co-worker held a shark fin, affixed to a yardstick, while Conner and the PE teacher hoisted a student. It appeared as if the “shark” was swimming outside the art room windows.  

“That was the scariest time we had at McKinley; we looked over and Chuck Stuart, the superintendent, was parked at the stop sign, watching us,” he said. “He never said a word. That building was a great place to start; it was a family.”

In some of his earliest days in Clay Center, Conner considered himself adopted by co-workers, like Joy Polson, a retired 379 FACS teacher. The pair met when Conner hijacked her soda from the lounge machine. 

“She was my Kansas Mom, I had Thanksgiving and holidays with them,” he said. “She took good care of me.” 

He also became friends with her son, who introduced him to his now-in-laws, Herb and the late L’Jeane Mugler.

“I ran around with that group for probably five years and had gone out to eat with my wife’s parents several times but never had met her,” he said. Then one day, she called for a date.  He met Marabeth, his now-wife of 35 years, on their first date at Pizza Hut; they were married within 10 months. 

“Her Mom pushed her to call me,” he said. “Her Dad didn’t find out until our wedding rehearsal dinner. I knew what I wanted so I didn’t wait, but she got a work-in-progress because I married way up. I just love their family, they took me in just like one of their own.” 

Last year Conner retired from working as a USD 379 industrial arts teacher after 40 years. 

Throughout that time, he coached basketball, tennis, wrestling, volleyball, track, and served as Athletic Director for years. He also moved to CCCHS, after it’d become too difficult keeping up two shops. 

Though he originally intended to teach kindergarten, Conner always wanted to teach; it was the family profession. In fact, he said teaching was a main topic at family get-togethers, causing his father, the tractor salesman, to turn down his hearing aids. 

“My kids always cracked up,” he said. “Whenever my Mom started talking, he’d grab the remote to mute her. That’s one of their fondest memories of him.” 

After he took up woodworking and drafting in high school, he switched course. 

“Drafting was kind of my first love and woodworking was kind of my therapy; now it’s kind of flipped. I like to draw things out first then make them.” 

However, Conner suffered from a series of medical setbacks that he believes changed the trajectory of his life. First, he was discharged from ROTC after a third knee surgery; he tore knee cartilage while playing preseason basketball. 

He continued to play sports recreationally and remained an avid runner; he finished six miles a day before school. Almost overnight, he had a leg that refused to work and each time he exerted himself, he fell. Multiple doctors and eight months later, he underwent spinal cord surgery. A blood vessel had grown into a noose around his spinal column. 

“KU Med sees two cases a year and of those, I’m lucky,” he said. “Most people, it goes to the brain.” 

Conner was told he would no longer be able to work, that he’d be disabled permanently, and walking was a question mark. 

“I’m just too dumb to know any different so I just kept going,” he said. “It affects walking, and I have hand controls to drive. Sometimes I stand and get my balance before I can go.” 

Conner also has a medical pump with muscle relaxers to help him remain steady. 

“There were so many things that happened with health, with people I met that brought me here, and to my wife,” he said. “I was blessed to retire from a job I loved and the opportunity to teach the great students of USD 379. There are of a lot of variables in how you end up where you’re at.” 

Brad Conner (back center) with his wife, Marabeth, their two daughters, Brenna (left) and Payton (right) and sons-in-law. Followed by the Conners on their wedding day.

Middle: A wine glass Conner made as a joke. 

Handcrafted rocking horses Conner made for his daughters. Brenna and Payton. Left: a sleigh-style rocker made of ash wood. This one he created with a chainsaw blade on a grinder, a method he said is far faster and easier than the chisel and hammer method of his first horse. Right: 180 pounds of cherry wood. The carousel-size glider remains in their family home. He got the idea while working on his master’s degree and making friends with a man who was chiseling his own horse between classes. 

Conner also makes gifts like bowls for retirement gifts and family urns. He said every pound needs a cubic inch of space, while the urn itself can only be 12 inches wide, the distance of a post-digger. He handcrafts his own jigs and other pieces to make the process easier.

“I like figuring out stuff like that, it’s part of the fun. It’s a puzzle on paper and then I get to put it together.”