I am convinced that no one loved kids and no one loved being an elementary school principal as much as Jill Hilla. I am convinced, too, that there are few who were better at it than Jill, who knew that leading a school was more than grades and test scores, that part of her job was also personal.
Jill died March 1 after suffering a stroke on Feb. 27.
“Please know that getting to know the versions of Jill that you all knew and loved has been a gift,” said her daughter Rebecca Hilla in a social media post. “Thank you for loving her, for being her community, her friends. Being part of your lives and your children’s lives was the greatest pride and privilege of her life.”
I count myself among the lucky who had the pleasure of knowing her.
My term on the board of the Howell Carnegie District Library overlapped with Jill’s. She proved to be a valuable resource, sharing her knowledge and experience with me; I enjoyed her sense of humor and admired her dedication.
But I will forever be grateful for Jill when she was principal of Southwest Elementary School, when my son, Will, was a student there.
Second grade was tough for Will. His grandfather, with whom Will was close, died just after school started, and Will was grieving just like Jill explained: “in waves.”
When those waves got too choppy during the school day, Will sometimes found himself banished to the principal’s office for punishment.
That’s when Jill got to know my kid well.
When Will arrived in the office, Jill told me that he’d start off sitting quietly by himself. Then, he’d ask her a question, and then another, and before she knew it, he was sitting next to her, engaging her in conversation.
“We were sitting there, talking, sharing M&M’s,” she told me. “I knew this wasn’t punishment for him.”
Jill was right.
For Will, spending time in the principal’s office was a soft spot in the school days that he was finding difficult. Rather than grieving alone in a class full of other second graders, he had found a way to spend some time alone with Jill, chatting about this and that, and eating candy.
Forever will I be grateful to Jill for making room in her crazy-busy days to provide an oasis for my grieving little boy.
I am sure there are thousands of these stories about Jill. Feel free to share your own by leaving a comment below.
