The Fisher Home at St. Joseph’s Indian School hums with the kind of energy only 12 boys can generate. Shoes land in a heap near the door. Someone is finishing a last-minute chore, wiping down the counter with exaggerated enthusiasm. Another drifts toward the kitchen, hoping to sneak a taste of whatever’s simmering on the stove.
Stephen and Robbie, the houseparents of the home, move through the bustle with a practiced calm. They remind one boy to wash his hands, redirect another toward the dinner table and gently remind the boy who gets to set out the silverware that it’s his turn. It’s a familiar rhythm — guiding, encouraging and nudging the chaos into something that feels like home.
Soon, the noise stills a bit. The boys find their seats, some still bubbling with stories from the day, others already reaching for second helpings of dinner. It’s lively, imperfect and full of heart.
And that’s exactly what a family dinner looks like in Fisher Home every night. Twelve boys. Two houseparents. One home.
A Calling That Began With a Leap of Faith
Stephen and Robbie first walked through the doors of St. Joseph’s Indian School in 2018, full of energy and hope. They had come a long way from their Southern roots in Louisiana and Mississippi, and even farther from the comfort of home. Stephen had never flown before, so even before arriving, the adventure began.
Their families worried about the distance. Chamberlain, SD, is over 1,000 miles away, but the couple still felt called to something bigger, even in a tiny town in South Dakota.
“We don’t have children of our own,” said Stephen. “We knew we wanted to work with kids. We thought, ‘We’re going to give it one year and —’”
“And then it’s eight years later,” said Robbie, laughing as she chimed in.
That leap of faith unfolded into a life’s purpose.
Some of the Lakota (Sioux) students at St. Joseph’s come from reservation communities where poverty runs deep and daily life can be unpredictable. Some families face overcrowded housing, limited access to groceries and long distances to schools or services. Stability isn’t always guaranteed. That’s why the presence of a steady, caring houseparent matters so profoundly to Native American children trying to find their way.
As six‑day houseparents, Stephen and Robbie are that steady, caring presence in Fisher Home. During their shift, they are the ones who wake the boys up, help with homework, attend meetings, manage schedules, cook meals, guide chores and create the rhythm of daily life. They work with children at their highest, their lowest and all the moments in between.
“It’s like being a parent,” said Stephen.
Their days begin early with breakfast, backpacks and school drop‑off. While there is some downtime while the children are at school, the work continues into the evenings filled with sports, appointments, homework and the small but meaningful rituals that make a house a home.
And yes, 12 boys make for a lot of activity. Robbie laughed, “You get used to it.”
Student transitions are part of the job. The boys arrive at their campus home as young fourth graders, unsure and wide‑eyed. By sixth grade, they’ve become leaders, helping younger students, modeling responsibility and showing the independence Stephen and Robbie helped nurture.
Watching that happen is a blessing, but then it’s also bittersweet, because it means the boys will be moving on to a seventh- and eighth-grade home.
“[The hardest part of the job is] sending our sixth-graders on. You have them for three years and you build that connection with them, and then you have to send them on,” said Stephen.
Robbie says these moments are sometimes filled with emotions.
“Every one of [the sixth-grade boys] hugged me and cried, and I cried with them, because I didn’t want them to go,” said Robbie.
Thankfully, they still see them around campus — some even across the street, as the homes are neighbors. They still get hugs in the driveway. They still share leftovers. They still hear updates from teachers and coaches. And when graduation comes, the boys often look back and remember the people who helped shape their journey.
“That means the world to us,” Stephen said. “When a student can look back and say, ‘You did this with us. You really helped us as we got older.’”
Houseparents don’t just build relationships with students in their homes — they build them into thiyóšpaye — extended family. One that also includes the students’ relatives.
“We always make an effort to connect with parents and guardians,” Robbie said. “Not only do we want the kids to feel welcome, but their families, too. To work with the kids, both the child and family have to trust you. We want to be a partnership.”
Over the years, those relationships have deepened. Families ask about Stephen and Robbie’s loved ones. They check in during hard times. They stay connected long after their boys move to the next St. Joseph’s home.
Stephen said, “It’s mutual care.”
The most gratifying part of the job? The boys themselves.
“It’s always the kids,” Robbie says. Watching them grow. Seeing them make it. Seeing them do well is the most gratifying piece for Stephen and Robbie.
It takes a special kind of person to be a houseparent. It takes consistency, compassion and unwavering dedication to children who are striving toward a brighter future.
Scott, a Family Service Counselor at St. Joseph’s, praised Stephen and Robbie for their work.
“Being here for eight years is actually a long time in this field — in residential care — and it shows the commitment [they’ve] made to these families. The other thing is obvious … just how much [they] care. I can see that, and the kids have to see that, too.”
Stephen and Robbie smile, humbled. Because at the end of the day, it’s simple …
They came to St. Joseph’s Indian School wanting to work with kids. They stayed because those kids became part of their hearts.
And every night, around a crowded dinner table, that love becomes visible — 12 times over.
Learn more about the Residential program at St. Joseph’s Indian School by visiting stjo.org today. Watch a full-length interview with Stephen and Robbie on our Hóčhoka podcast, available wherever you listen to podcasts and on our YouTube channel.
