Nikki Sumner Is Remembered for Her Dedication to Students

In the chaotic and intimidating halls of a bustling high school, one office became a shelter. On the third floor of Quince Orchard High School, Ms. Sumner sat in 30B with the door open.

When a new teacher was struggling with a lesson plan, she was there with a donut and advice.

When a student found it difficult to concentrate on schoolwork while dealing with a challenging home environment, she was there to work through every problem until together they found a solution.

When a friend felt insecure about his interests, she was there to listen and tell him to take pride in himself.

Nikki Sumner, or Ms. Sumner as her students knew her, taught engineering and self-empowerment to kids and adults at Quince Orchard High School.

But she was not there to comfort them when the worst happened at the end of August.

A week before school started this year, Sumner did not show up for a meeting. It was unlike the hardworking teacher to be late to work, so Principal Carol Working immediately sent someone to her house.

Sumner was found dead at her Germantown home, just two days before her 53rd birthday. At the time this story was published the medical examiner had not completed an autopsy, but police say there were no signs of violence, and her death was likely due to disease or natural causes.

Sumner was born in New Haven, Conn., and held a bachelor's degree in business from Briarcliffe College, a bachelor's degree in computer science from Wheaton College and a master's degree in mathematics from the University of Maryland.

She began her teaching career as a sign language interpreter. In 1995, she came to Quince Orchard High School. Over the years she taught math, computer application, technology and language classes.

Sumner lived with her dogs in Germantown, loved to travel and play practical jokes. But at work, she appeared to many to have a hard exterior. Many students who did not have her as a teacher simply referred to her as "the mean, short lady on the third floor." Fellow teacher Greg Benas recalled spending his first year at Quince Orchard High School trying to become her friend.

"The expression a hard nut to crack, described Nikki to a T," said Benas at a memorial service held in her honor at Quince Orchard High School on Sept. 6.

"Maybe it was the challenge, maybe it was her sarcastic brand of humor, but I knew I wanted to be her friend. To get beyond our collaborative relationship and become her friend required a relentless effort."

Last year, Sumner took on a new challenge when the high school began offering a class in introduction to engineering design. She knew nothing about engineering, but that didn't stop her from devoting herself to the course.

She spent all summer studying the subject and went to a two-week training course to receive her engineering teaching certification. At the end of the year, her class received the highest scores in Montgomery County, with approximately 75 percent of them passing a college-level introduction to engineering class.

This year, nearly twice as many students signed up to take the class, which involves such complicated projects as making and racing a hydraulic animal, sending a Pringle through the U.S. mail and writing a formula for a 3D printer. 

"She loved her toys, and she got kids as excited as she was about the toys and how they were working," said Julie Newcomer, department resource for Fine Arts and Technology. "A lot of kids would say they thought they wouldn't be able to handle that level of curriculum, but she helped them figure out they can."

While teaching engineering, she taught her students life lessons, too. In her engineering class, she would challenge her students to take control of their emotions.

"Kids would come into the class mad, and they wouldn't get anything done," remembered her former student Darius Lewis, now a junior. "She would say, 'You know, when I was your age I would try and take stuff apart and put it back together. I wouldn't stay mad. I'd do something positive with my anger.'"

Outside the classroom, she offered students the thing many teenagers yearn for: someone to listen to their problems. Gynell Journigan did not have her as a teacher but came to know her through a friend at school. Journigan had recently moved to Quince Orchard High School from San Diego and struggled to be himself at this new school.

"She could tell that things were bothering me and she said, 'Well are you just going to walk around being unhappy? Are you going to do that for the rest of your school years?'" recalled Journigan.

One day Journigan went into her office at 32B and told Sumner everything that had been bothering him. She listened carefully to the personal struggles of his 16-year-old life, paused and said "So, now what?"

"When are you going to start living? You need to start living now," Journigan remembered her saying.

A year later, Journigan said he finally feels comfortable with who he is. This year, he will perform at Quince Orchard High School's annual "Putting on the Hits" a performance that is inspired by the lessons of Sumner.

"It's about me being comfortable with myself, the way that I perform, the way that I dance," said Journigan, who will be applying for colleges this fall. "I'm finally ready to let that side of me out, and that's definitely because of her."

Darius Lewis was struggling to balance challenges at home while staying motivated at school. As with Journigan, Sumner saw there was something wrong.

"She saw that I started slipping," said Lewis. "She would say, 'Tell me what's up,' and I would tell her I have stuff at home. And she would say, 'Well, tell me everything.'"

From then on, she worked with him every lunch period to complete his assignments, even beyond the engineering class. A year later, Darius said he thinks of her when he has a choice between playing video games and doing his schoolwork.

"Now I think to myself 'Well if I don't do this [homework], what would Ms. Sumner think?" said Lewis, who is now a starting corner quarterback on the varsity football team and so far this year has straight As. "I don't have her here to yell at me, but now it's all about integrity. Am I going to be my old self and do what I want to do and hopefully get it done the next morning? Or should I do it now and get it out of the way, like she would have wanted it?"

Quince Orchard High School is diverse both economically and racially, but Ms. Sumner found a way to relate to all her students.  Brittany Sperbeck entered her class as a new student to Quince Orchard High School, having recently transferred from a small private school.

"I was kind of nervous and kind of shy, but she really helped me open up and come out of my shell," recalls Sperbeck.  "By my sophomore year, she actually called me into her office because I was talking too much."

As a resource to Sumner, Julie Newcomer saw how students were always Sumner's highest priority.

"It was hard to get her away for department meetings during lunch," said Newcomer said. "She was always working with the kids."

A private woman, Sumner kept most of her personal life to herself unless something would affect the classroom. She was a giving person, but never sought praise for her work, Newcomer said.

One year, the mother of one of her students wrote to the department explaining that the family's finances had suffered that year and they wouldn't be able to provide anything for their kids for Christmas. Sumner bought each of the five kids an iPod and donated them anonymously, Newcomer recalled.

"The student was in her class and never knew; she still doesn't," she said.

Quince Orchard High School is learning to live without Sumner's daily presence and without the shelter of her office. Although the school has found a long-term substitute to teach her classes, Working is still searching for a certified full-time replacement, and Ms. Sumner's office remains empty.

But for the students and teachers whom she inspired, her voice and her lessons will continue to live on.

Correction: An earlier version of this story incorrectly identified Ms. Sumner's classroom number. We regret the error.