Ask almost anyone who knows the Highland Park school district about Richard Bohac, and they’ll have a story to tell.
Over nearly five decades in the community, Richard Bohac was a steady presence in many lives. Whether you knew him as an assistant principal, a coach for the Highland Park football team, an educator, or a friend, you quickly learned he was far more than his job title.
He was a big man with a booming voice. You could hear him from the other side of the school and if he spotted you skipping class, there was no running away. He was even called the Manhunter during his years at the high school. Maybe you were skipping gym or maybe you were skipping a history class — either way, he’d spot you, crook his finger and say something like “get on over here, now,” with that thick Waxahachie accent.
However, under that booming voice and towering frame, Mr. Bohac was nothing but a “gooey teddy bear.” If you weren’t in trouble, he’d love to stop and chat. He liked to hear what was going on in students’ lives. He wanted to be someone they knew they could go to for help. He valued the trust parents, kids, and teachers placed in him.
“He was the most open hearted and caring person ever,” former student Aidan Fisher said.
Many reflected on his sense of respect for others, a quality that gained him respect in return. Richard Bohac could look intimidating, especially to a middle schooler. But instead of instilling fear into his students, he came off kind until he needed to be stern.
“As strict as he was, he was so fair,” Fisher said.
There was never a student Mr. Bohac cast aside. He could have written detention after detention or suspended students until they became someone else’s responsibility. Instead, he saw an opportunity to build relationships, hold students accountable, and help them learn from their mistakes.
“He had a real, genuine, love for the students,” former McCulloch Intermediate School assistant principal Marcia Pool said. “He wanted to make them the best that they could be.”
His personality showed up in the little routines that became part of everyday life at the middle school. He commanded the cafeteria with his microphone, calling students to report for lunch duty, and rarely went anywhere without his walkie-talkie. Athletic director Jeremy Gilbert joked that if a trash can were out of place, Bohac would notice. And when dress-up days would roll around, he was always ready with a costume.
He owned a multitude of masks, hats, and costumes. Some of the most memorable were his Darth Vader costume and the women’s cardigan that he mistakenly wore to a holiday party.
No matter how you knew him, you knew Mr. Bohac’s love for his family, his humor, and his compassion for every child who passed through those school doors. His memorial service was crowded with generations of families whose lives he had touched.
“Whatever he did,” Pool said, “whether it was school, his children, his family, his church, he did it 100%.”
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