An unhappy parting

This is not the way Pat Sullivan wanted to leave Everett High School.

He wanted to retire from the school where he has worked the past 17 years. He wanted to be on stage at graduation next year to shake his son's hand and present his diploma.

Instead, he's resigning in June, after six years as principal and 11 years as assistant principal, and two years short of a 30-year career with the Everett School District.

The district says Sullivan's reasons for leaving are personal.

"Pat has chosen to submit his resignation, and it was accepted by the School Board in June," said Jim McNally, the executive director for the district's northern region and Sullivan's supervisor.

McNally would not comment on the reasons, and Sullivan, 53, said only that he hopes to find another job as a principal in a different district.

Everett-district administrators recently completed interviews of candidates for Sullivan's job. Catherine Matthews, 39, now the principal at Lakewood High School in Arlington, was expected to be hired yesterday.

But it's apparent within about 30 seconds of talking to Sullivan that the choice wasn't one he had wanted to make.

Asked to list his accomplishments, Sullivan declined.

"If the Everett School District and I agreed on accomplishments, there wouldn't be an issue," he said.

Although student test scores have risen steadily since Sullivan took over as principal in 1999, the school made the poorest showing among the district's three comprehensive high schools on the 10th-grade Washington Assessment of Student Learning.

The 1,600-student school also failed to meet federal improvement targets last year in its dropout rate. About a third of students leave school without graduating, although the school is retaining significantly more students this year, McNally said. Everett High also failed to make adequate progress in special education and among English-language learners.

But the high school has had its academic successes under Sullivan. He led initiatives to improve student achievement that attracted national attention, McNally said. And Sullivan has recruited and hired a talented young staff.

Parents who gathered in January to advise the district on selecting a new principal repeatedly named communication as an important attribute. Some said Sullivan talks more than he listens and sometimes seems preoccupied to the point of rudeness.

Criss Bowsher, the student- activities accountant, said she's heard the criticisms of Sullivan's communication style but said: "Honestly, I don't see it. He speaks from the heart and tells you what's on his mind."

Dedication to Everett High

Though questions remain about Sullivan's effectiveness, no one has questioned his dedication to Everett High School.

Colleagues say he wears his love for the school on his sleeve. It's a source of pride for Sullivan to lead the school that is the alma mater of congressional icon Henry M. Jackson and artist Chuck Close, of dozens of poets, writers and civic leaders memorialized in big oak cases along the school's third-floor halls.

Thirty-six percent of Everett High's students qualify for free or reduced-price lunches, and the school has significantly more low-income and non-English speakers than the district's two other high schools, Cascade and Jackson. Some cities have turned their backs on inner-city schools, but Sullivan said Everett still stands behind its high school.

"Before there was a Snohomish, a Cascade or a Mariner, there was Everett High School," he said.

A product of Seattle Preparatory Academy and a graduate of Seattle University, Sullivan once considered becoming a priest. Even as an educator, Sullivan gives others the impression that being principal is a calling, not a job, said Ross Rettenmier, the president of the Blue and Gold Club, the school's alumni and parent support group.

Rettenmier recalled the day that Sullivan saw a special-needs student dragging a broken backpack through the hall. He went to Blue and Gold leaders and asked whether they could purchase a rolling backpack for the boy. If the club didn't have the money, Sullivan said, he'd take some from his own discretionary account.

Over the years, the principal has approached the Blue and Gold Club to get students glasses, textbooks, athletic shoes, musical instruments and money to pay for physicals and summer camp.

"He sees it, he feels it, he wants to do something about it, and he's prepared to do something about it," said Rettenmier, a 1975 Everett graduate.

Words of wisdom

Every morning, Sullivan reads an inspirational quote over the intercom. He calls it Sullivan's Words of Wisdom. When Rettenmier was in the building one morning and heard one of the inspirational messages, he said to himself, "This is a wonderful man."

Deb Kalina, an English teacher at the school, shares the view that Sullivan always "wants what's best for the school." But she added, in virtually the exact words as several other teachers and parents, that his good heart and good intentions "don't always come across."

"Some principals are politicians. He's not a politician. But I think that's a good thing," Kalina said.

She found herself on the edge of a school controversy last year when Sullivan asked whether she would consider becoming the school-newspaper adviser and could convert the Kodak, which printed its first edition in 1899, to an online publication.

Shirley Ferguson, who was then the adviser, said she learned about Sullivan's plan to eliminate the print version of the newspaper the day before she retired.

"Everett is a tight town. Alumni are still very involved. The idea that there wasn't going to be a Kodak didn't go over very well," Ferguson said.

Sullivan said his intentions were misunderstood. The paper is now self-sustaining. Students sell ads to help offset costs, and half the number of copies are printed.

But Sullivan and Ferguson, colleagues for 16 years, no longer speak to one another.

Senior Ben Watanabe, who worked on the Kodak staff last year, said Sullivan came off as "a tyrant" during the controversy. The attempted closure of the print version of the paper, coupled with the elimination of other extracurricular activities as part of budget cuts, earned the principal the nickname "Club Killer," he said.

"It's pretty much 50-50. Half the teachers love him and think he's done a great job. The other half hate him and will be glad to see someone new come in," Watanabe said.

Criteria for ideal leader

When staff and community members in January listed what they wanted in a new leader, the results filled 10 pages. Among the qualities the group identified were a strong moral purpose, a problem solver who works in collaborative fashion, someone who is direct but not "condescending or brutal."

They also described someone who is a leader but delegates authority and works collaboratively; someone who is fair, open- minded, positive and a good communicator.

Hap Wertheimer, a parent who participated in the discussions, said wryly that the list seemed to be a job description for God.

"They're looking for a parent, a teacher, an authoritarian and a nice guy all rolled up into one," she said.

The fact there will be a new principal in his place is one more affront to Sullivan. Asked if he had any thoughts on who would replace him or in what direction the school should proceed, he said, "I have no comment on that."

He declined again to list his accomplishments. He said he doesn't want the district to think he's campaigning to keep his job.

"I think I've earned the right, after devoting my entire adult life to the community, to leave without having to tap-dance," he said.

Near the end of an interview to which Sullivan reluctantly agreed, he told a story from early in his teaching career, when he also coached soccer at Everett's Cascade High School.

His team had made it to the playoffs and was one win from going to the state tournament, when his own defender, trying to pass the back to their goalie, scored for the other team. The goal was the difference in the game.

Sullivan asked sportswriters not to print the boy's name, though there were surely dozens of spectators in the stands. Sullivan's impulse was to minimize the boy's pain. He's sure the student is still haunted by the mistake.

When it was suggested that maybe the athlete had gone on to live a happy and successful life, that the losing goal might be remembered at this distance with a hand slap on the forehead and a disbelieving smile, Sullivan argued the point.

"I'm still haunted by it," he said. "It haunts you when something happens that you don't want to."

Lynn Thompson: 425-745-7807 or lthompson@seattletimes.com