Middle school teacher’s memory will live on at future skate park

It was easy to mistake Barb Iverson for one of her middle school students.

She always wore her hair in a short bob, and her students often would tower over the petite middle school teacher.

But it wasn’t her appearance that kept her so youthful. Even past retirement, Iverson had the energy of a child, propelled by the curiosity and delight she fostered in her students.

Iverson died from cancer in 2021 at age 71. Hundreds of people she impacted celebrated her life.

But when she was receiving treatment before she died, dozens of former students crowded into a line along the hospital hallway to see her. “Her kids” would bunch together into her hospice room and laugh at stories as though it was a family reunion, even though they might not know each other well.

“In her last few weeks, her gift to us was helping us be present with one another,” said Emily Baxter, a former student and close friend of Iverson’s. “I got to meet so many of the other people who loved Barb and continue to love Barb as fiercely as I do.”

Now, Iverson’s memory will remain not only with those she touched directly but also for thousands of others in the Sioux Falls community. As a vocal advocate for the skateboarding community over the years, a new skate park to be built at Nelson Park near 10th Street and Cliff Avenue will be named in her honor as the Barb Iverson Skate Plaza.

“She touched so many people’s lives,” Baxter said. “I’m glad there will be a space that keeps her a very present part of Sioux Falls.”

Iverson taught English at Patrick Henry Middle School for over 30 years, retiring in 2010. She didn’t just teach students, though. She inspired them.

She often saw children who felt left out or lost — whether those were skateboarders or other children who didn’t fit in. She didn’t reach out to fix them but reached out to celebrate and help them believe in themselves.

“It’s a critical time, eighth grade. What a special hell,” laughed Baxter, who had class with Iverson in the ’90s. “But for Barb, it was a time to spark so much interest and imagination in these developing minds, and she found ways to do it for every kid.”

For Micah Scholten, he recalls complaining about mowing his family’s yard and studying for a test during study hall with Iverson when he was in the seventh grade. She bet him that she’d mow his lawn if he earned a B or higher on his test, encouraging him to study even though he didn’t care for school.

Scholten’s mother was surprised to find his teacher mowing their lawn a few days later.

After that, Iverson quickly became a family friend, bonding with Scholten’s mother, sewing clothes and costumes for Scholten over the years, joining family vacations and spending Christmases together.

Iverson lent Baxter her first camera as a student too. Now, Baxter is an attorney and photographer, leading a social justice nonprofit and sharing the stories of people who are incarcerated.

Iverson bonded with another lifelong friend and former student Thomas Chiu over music. She lent him several CDs during his time in middle school, and she would record music videos on television for him because his family didn’t have cable.

Chiu even asked Iverson to chauffeur him to his first date the summer after eighth grade because he was too embarrassed to ask his parents for a ride. She also brought him camping, took him to his first concert and read at Chiu’s wedding.

Labels like friend and teacher don’t fit Iverson, Chiu said. “Hero” comes close, but not perfectly. She was “simply Barb.”

He’s reminded of her every day.

“She was such a big influence in my life and how I see the world,” Chiu said. “Instead of thinking ‘What would Jesus do?’ like some people, I ask myself, `What would Barb do?’ and try to emulate her worldview and patience and generosity with people.”

Though she celebrated all students, she became attached to skateboarders after becoming close to Scholten and his family in the early ’90s.

Before Sioux Falls had a skate park at the turn of the century, Scholten would buy and build ramps in his backyard that he and his friends could use. Iverson donated hundreds of dollars to purchase the ramps and would drive the “disaffected teenagers” to skate parks in Des Moines when Sioux Falls lacked a venue. She was an advocate for the first skate park built near Drake Springs and a second at Kuehn Park.

While dedicated to school, Iverson understood that not all students thrived in a school setting and was committed to ensuring those kids who felt forgotten were supported and cared for.

Iverson enjoyed camping and traveling. She was an amateur photographer, though most of her photos were blurry, Scholten joked, and often wrote letters and postcards to former students, friends and acquaintances.

Even if she kept in touch with people regularly or hadn’t spoken to someone in over a decade, she would send them a crossword or a rock or letter when she thought of them, Baxter said.

Not only would she ship people knickknacks, but she would leave things behind for strangers or children — painted rocks or toys hidden in nooks or purposefully dropping “lucky pennies” on the ground so they would be small joys to find.

Chiu, Baxter and Scholten all still hold onto the knickknacks she shared over the years.

“She carried everybody with her all the time. Who among us can do that? Who has the capacity for that except for Barb?” Baxter said.

The Sioux Falls Skate Park Association and city are naming the park after Iverson not only because of her history of advocacy for skateboarders, but also because the way she thought about children and cared for their needs mirrors the organization’s mission, said Walter Portz, the association’s executive director.

“The money she gave is the least important thing,” Portz said. “She gave her heart to kids.”

Skateboarding is “transformational,” he added. It’s an activity that has historically attracted people who didn’t have traditional outlets, whether for financial reasons, mental health or addiction.

Iverson cared for children no matter who they were and deserves to be recognized for that. In turn, she’s an “honorary skateboarder,” he joked.

“This is physical proof of all she did to help the skateboarding community and the kids she helped,” Scholten said.

It’s important for other people to learn about the positive force that Iverson was, and still is, Scholten said. She touched hundreds of lives as a teacher and friend, and this honor cements that legacy.

Iverson, who did not marry or have children, asked Scholten to have her urn fashioned out of used skateboards before she died.

There isn’t a place for people who love Iverson to congregate or visit currently, but there will be soon with the new skatepark, Baxter said.

“On a broader and more important level, this is a place where kids can come and be accepted and seen,” Baxter added. “Barb’s gift was in seeing people and celebrating them and helping them understand they can celebrate themselves. Her delight in the everyday was so contagious. I hope people remember that here.”