Sean Cleary is the kind of teacher who makes you believe that maybe, just maybe, middle school is the best place in the world.
It’s not because teaching sixth through eighth grade is easy. Far from it—Sean teaches sixth and seventh grade social studies, religion in English to all three middle school grades, and life skills on top of that. Next year, he’s also adding an elective to his overflowing plate (a podcasting class, if he gets his way). But for Sean, service has never been about ease. It’s about showing up, saying yes, and building something meaningful—together.
“Saying yes has gotten me into a lot of things,” he laughs. “But I think that’s how you serve well—by being open to what’s needed, not just what’s convenient.”
That spirit of service has defined Sean’s path, winding through Durham, North Carolina, to the halls of Notre Dame, and on to Escuela de Guadalupe in Denver. As part of Notre Dame’s Alliance for Catholic Education (ACE), Sean has spent the past two years teaching full-time at Escuela while simultaneously earning his master’s degree—also full-time.
“It was a lot,” he admits. “I’d finish a school year, fly to South Bend the next day, and move back into a dorm for summer classes. It was like never really leaving college.”
He says it with a smile, because truthfully, he loves school. Always has.
“I’m kind of a professional student,” he jokes. “I love learning, I love the structure, I love being around people who are excited to grow.”
Strong Community = Happiness
Community, it turns out, is a throughline in Sean’s life—the reason he stayed at Escuela, the reason he chose Notre Dame, even the reason his parents sent him to a private, fully-independent school much like Escuela.
“When you’re in a strong community,” he says, “you’re more likely to be happy, to thrive, to grow. That’s always been true for me.”
At Escuela, that community is tangible. Sean describes a school where students’ cultures and identities are not just acknowledged—they’re celebrated.
“It’s especially important in middle school,” he explains. “They’re so impressionable, and they want to belong. At Escuela, belonging means being yourself. Being proud of where you come from.”
It’s also a place, he says, where things just work.
“A lot of ACE teachers are in really under-resourced schools. There’s a lot of chaos. At Escuela, things are organized, supportive. That’s rare, and I don’t take it for granted.”
That clarity helped make Sean’s decision to stay an easy one, even as many of his ACE peers moved on.
“Honestly, the salary didn’t hurt,” he laughs. “Next year, I’ll be making more than some of my friends who stayed in archdiocesan schools. Escuela being independent means they can offer that.”
It’s not the paycheck—it’s the payoff.
“A lot of my friends from college are making more money than I am,” he says. “But at the end of the day, I get in the car and I feel happy. I feel fulfilled. I know what I’m doing matters, and I think I’m pretty good at it.” He pauses, then adds with characteristic humility: “At least, people tell me I am.”
He brings that same energy into everything he does—from Sister Susan Day, an all-school service event he now leads, to his work mentoring students and planning new programs.
“Last year, I wanted to run away screaming,” he says of organizing the event. “But then I saw what the kids had done, how they’d served the community, and I thought—wow. This is worth it.”
Whether he’s helping students reflect on their faith, unpack a historical moment, or consider the ethics of digital citizenship in life skills class, Sean approaches it all with curiosity and care.
“When I teach social studies,” he says, “I think about the fact that these kids are future voters. I want them to leave my class curious—not just about facts, but about people. About the world. Because curiosity leads to empathy.”
“I said yes. I keep saying yes.”
Next year, Sean will begin a new chapter at Escuela, with a real salary, a completed master’s degree, and a fresh cohort of students. And he’s not slowing down.
“I’ll be working with fourth and fifth graders, too—doing literacy intervention,” he says. “I said yes. I keep saying yes. That’s what the community needs.”
And would he change a thing?
He shakes his head. “Most days, I get in the car and I’m just… happy,” Sean says. “I know I’m doing something that matters, and I think I’m doing a pretty good job at it. That’s a feeling a lot of people don’t get from their jobs—and I don’t take it for granted.”
