The farewell to Sister Jean Panisko, principal of Annunciation School for the past 29 years, required, among other things, that she sit still.
This is not in her nature.
My first indication of this occurs within moments of meeting her. I’m not sure what I am expecting, but it is not this slender woman who stands 4 feet 11 inches and who offers me a strong hug and a laugh. Her laugh is a marvel. A guffaw, hearty and unrestrained and capable of infecting an entire room.
So nice to meet you, she says, and then she has hold of my hand and is leading me through the crowded gymnasium, introducing me right and left.
I make a pit stop with parent Deanna DeHerrera and teacher Rick Steck.
“She’s like the Energizer Bunny,” DeHerrera says.
“There’s a lot of might in that little package,” Steck says.
Within the hour, Sister Jean will also be described as a “tiny dynamo,” and a leader “gifted with the wisdom of Solomon and speed of an angel.”
But first comes Anita Melendez. “Oh, one of my former students,” Sister Jean says. Melendez hugs her former principal, her kids’ current principal, and starts crying.
“I love you,” Melendez says.
“I love you, too,” Sister Jean says. “You’ve come to a great point in life.”
“It’s because of you,” Melendez says and turns to me. “I moved out of the neighborhood seven years ago to Thornton. I drive my kids here every day because of her.”
Then Sister Jean is off again in a whirlwind of hugs. The crowd settles. Sheila Karpan, the school’s social worker, takes the microphone.
“Welcome to this day of celebration and gratitude for Sister Jean as we recognize the contribution . . .” Karpan stops, looks over at the principal’s chair, looks again. “Where is Sister Jean?”
The crowd bursts into laughter.
Twenty-nine years at a poor urban school is almost unheard of in a public-school setting. It is not as rare in Denver’s parochial schools, though even Sister Jean’s friends would ask her from time to time how she managed to keep her energy.
She could answer this in several ways. The first would be that she has, over these past three decades, learned to trust God. “If God wishes,” she says, repeating the words she has heard from her students’ parents and grandparents.
This kind of statement is often mistaken for passivity, a form of fatalism in which humankind’s actions are, in the end, meaningless. It is the opposite. Such trust requires that one must work as hard as one can, with purpose and faith and generosity of spirit.
The trust of Sister Jean is defined by optimism and action. It is rooted in the belief that education is the only way out of poverty. It is filled with love for the community she serves. “We have to be the ones that carry the hope and not get caught up in the depths of darkness,” she tells me. “I cannot be a negative person. That is not what God calls us to be. I cannot whine. I can only ask, ‘Now, what can we do to make it better?’ “
Sister Jean could answer that she has learned there is a time for stillness and a time for movement and that the richness of each is fed by the other. In the early morning quiet of the Sisters of Charity of Leavenworth chapel, she prays, alone and with her religious community. By 7 a.m. she is at school. All day, she is moving, through the halls, in classrooms, upstairs, downstairs.
“Management by movement,” she calls it, and this does not just mean physical motion. Sister Jean is known as one of the most innovative principals in the archdiocese, and she formed partnerships with colleges and universities and nonprofits.
“Her credo has always been, ‘Is it good for the children?’ ” Steck says. “Everything else took second place.”
Some of Sister Jean’s former students, now in high school, show up and linger at the gym doors. They forget their insouciance the moment she opens her arms to them. She has been at Annunciation long enough to have seen three generations of families. From what I can see, each one loves her as much as the last.
She is 67. She entered Sisters of Charity at 18 and will now assume duties as its treasurer. The time is right, she said. Her staff is strong, the alumni association continues to support the school in many ways, the parent community is thriving and involved.
She tells me she is at peace with her decision, but leaving her life with the students is not easy.
“Entering the religious life, you give up having a family, but I have been blessed a hundredfold,” she says.
At her farewell Saturday, Karpan, the social worker, told a story. The Masai of East Africa greet one another by asking, “How are the children?”
“The traditional answer they hear even from those who have no children of their own is, ‘All the children are well,’ ” Karpan said. It means peace and safety prevail and the young are cared for in the face of struggle.
So it was under the leadership of Sister Jean, Karpan told the crowd.
“All the children are well.”
Tina Griego writes Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. Reach her at 303-954-2699 or tgriego@denverpost.com.
