WELCOME

Welcome to the South High Alumni & Friends (SHAFI) Webpage

We’re glad you’re here! This page is your connection to South High’s alumni community—past, present, and future.

Through SHAFI, you can:

• Register for membership and pay online with ease
• Receive our newsletter by email
• Stay up to date on reunions, gatherings, and special events

We are especially excited as we look ahead to a major milestone—the 100th Anniversary of South High in April 2026! Watch for upcoming announcements and opportunities to be part of this historic celebration.

Together, we celebrate the friendships, memories, and traditions that make South High special. Thank you for being part of our alumni family—we look forward to seeing you at future events!

SHAFI Fiscal Year 2024 to 2025

Our membership year has come to a close and we are planning for our next year. It’s going to be a big year for South High School.. our 100th!!

Financial Summary

With 964 paid members, SHAFI continues to thrive thanks to the generosity and loyalty of our ALUMNI community.

From Oct ’24 through Sept ’25, we received $33,500 in both memberships and donations along with $1,005. in interest income. These funds allowed us to directly give back into South High supporting students and school programs. The largest portion, $22,000, supported the GIVING GROCERY, ensuring that students in need have a reliable access to food and basic essentials. We also contributed $5,640 to sports, activities and JROTC, $9,380 for our Alumni Newsletter. Our ongoing responsibility to Reunions, Clock, History Room and Office expenses fill the $3,000 of our budget.

As we look forward to our 25-26 fiscal year we remain focused on Student Support with an added $5,000 to our exciting 100th Anniversary Event in April of 2026.

Colorado Gives Day

Update-Oct 20, 2025

The SHAFI Executive Board once again voted to dedicate this year’s Colorado Gives Day donations (December 9, 2025) to the Giving Grocery, continuing our strong commitment to supporting South students in need. We’re thrilled to share that one of our generous alumni has contributed an incredible $5,000 gift—to be donated in full to the Giving Grocery. SHAFI will add to her gift with funds received through Colorado Gives Day and any additional directed donations received through our website or by mail.

Your $15 annual membership continues to support our newsletter, office expenses, and the operations that keep SHAFI running smoothly. We are deeply grateful for every contribution—each and every dollar is carefully accounted for and thoughtfully used to benefit the South High community. 💜

A Note of Thanks from Our NASA Team

We are so proud of the incredible group of South High students who recently traveled to NASA (with SHAFI’s help) to present their project. Their hard work, creativity, and teamwork represented our school in the very best way.

The team asked us to share this special thank you note with all of you—our alumni and friends—who continue to support and encourage South High students as they reach for the stars.

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Five South High School students—Oliver Coombe, Aurora Mick, Aiden Deutchman, Joshua Buzobozi, and Vivienne Pilch—recently traveled to NASA’s Johnson Space Center in Houston, Texas, to present their innovative lunar lander project after being selected as finalists in the 2025 NASA HUNCH (High School Students United with NASA to Create Hardware) program. As part of an Engineering Career and Technical Education (CTE) class at South High, the students designed a dual-component system: a payload deployment and release mechanism and a custom landing leg built to absorb impact and stabilize on uneven lunar surfaces. The project was developed in alignment with NASA’s Artemis mission, which aims to return humans to the Moon and establish sustainable lunar exploration.

Selected from a national pool of student teams, the group presented their prototype to NASA engineers and aerospace professionals, showcasing their technical knowledge, creativity, and teamwork. The opportunity gave them hands-on experience in real-world engineering and valuable insight into the aerospace industry. The students returned from Houston inspired by the experience and proud to have represented South and its CTE programs in shaping the future of space technology.

The team thanks their teachers, Matt Schwieterman and Jeff Buck for their support and encouragement throughout the project, and to the Denver South Alumni Association and PTSA for their financial support which allowed them to attend the final showcase in Houston.

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Spotlight from the Past: A Teacher Remembered

We are pleased to share this very special article, written by one of our South High students in Hawaii, honoring an outstanding South High teacher. It is a delightful read and a wonderful reminder of the impact our teachers have had across generations. We hope you enjoy it.

His dedication to teaching went beyond the call of duty

Mr. Harold R. Keables taught English at ‘Iolani School from 1965 to 1980, after devoting 30 years to students in the Denver public school system. He was named Life magazine Teacher of the Year in 1960. Mr. Keables, who was born on Jan. 28, 1900, died in 1982 at age 82.

He touched students and faculty at ‘Iolani with his passion for learning and high standards for writing. Mr. Keables was dedicated to all of his students, not just the gifted or talented writers, but also the ones who initially struggled with words.

A true academician, Mr. Keables was famous for his meticulous correction of student writing. He introduced to ‘Iolani a method of using detailed codes to direct students to a grammar book.

In 1998, the ‘Iolani English Department introduced its own book, named The Keables Guide to Writing, which was tailored to the needs of its students.

‘Iolani School administrators and alumni contributed to the Spring 1984 edition of the ‘Iolani School Bulletin, which highlighted the newly established Harold Keables Chair of English. Steven Bonsey’s tribute to Mr. Keables is reprinted below.
 

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IS THERE CHALK ON HIS BACK?

In Memoriam — Harold Keables
By Steven C. Bonsey ’74

By nine o’clock the morning traffic on Convention Drive was so still that the occasional sound of a passing car had a dreamlike quality. An old man in khaki and a straw hat set sprinklers here and there which tossed up white wings under the shower trees in syncopated pulses. Through the branches and over the low roof of the Business Office, the heights of the Koolaus shone bluer than the seablue sky. An alighting mynah paused to clear its throat, but was interrupted by an insistent question from Mr. Keables.

“What does this remind you of?”

Mr. Keables halted his pacing across the front of the room long enough to lift his hand, fingertips touching, from the depths of his right coat pocket, an ancient burial ground of broken chalk pieces. He held the hand outstretched before and above him, summoning the presence of some Olympian verity into the company of our assembled dullnesses. An infertile silence lengthened. The fingers then opened suddenly and trembled. The obvious answer hovered there just above our too-thick skulls.

“Think!” came with a stamp of the foot. Cerebral pressure increased to the point of minor physical pain. The hand held there a moment longer, then dropped dispirited as Mr. Keables returned to his pacing. He cast about for a different approach. Unfortunately, the question was exact.

“What does this remind you of?” He leaned against the chalkboard for support. The outline he had posted in the minutes before class now impressed itself into what had once been the nap of his coat.

Meanwhile, consciousness had be gun to dawn. My mind surveyed the landmarks of Western literature. Was it the tragic vision of Aeschylus? The modernity of Euripides? The classic perfection of Sophocles? Light dawned. I raised my hand.

“Yes,” he said, pointing to me and approaching expectantly. My inspiration delivered itself fullblown in all its radiant splendor, as Athena had sprung fullgrown from the severed brow of Zeus.

“No,” said Mr. Keables, his back returning to the chalkboard, his wrists descending once more into their distorted sanctuaries.

Yes, Harold Keables’ style was brutal. His A.P. English course did not resemble other English courses, and his pedagogy did not affirm the unformed intellect. With another teacher, the exchange might have been different.

“Who can tell me the name of the river on which Huck Finn spent his life? Johnny?”

“Uh, the Nile?”

“Thank you, Johnny, that’s very good. The Nile is indeed a river. Excellent. Does anyone else have any input?”

Keables was different. Keables had standards, and they were never relaxed. Whether they were fair or not seems almost an impertinent question. They were his, period. Or rather, they were him. (G7d6: They were he.) They seemed to hold him upright almost physically long after his body should have been relieved of active duty on the classroom front.

Sometimes his standards seemed unfathomable. Answering a Keables question correctly (that is, to his satisfaction) often required as much clairvoyance as knowledge or insight or imagination. Never, however, was there a question that the standards might be capricious or arbitrarily applied. Keables was the same yesterday and today, until the end of his tomorrows.

It was this that gave his judgments an air of the absolute. The competition for good marks on any given assignment embraced not only the twenty-odd students then enrolled in the class, but the scores of twenty-odd over the decades of his teaching. He would read outstanding examples of our writing out loud to the class. Here is a fine essay on Keats’ “Ode on a Grecian Urn,” he would say in introduction, and the lucky one among us would swell a bit with pride. Yes, a fine essay, he would say in conclusion, though not as fine as this one’s in ‘67, or as eloquent as that one’s in ‘54, or as . . . The swelling would subside a bit.

Sometimes his standards seemed a bit too objective. Over the years he had succeeded in reducing the received grammar and usage of the English language to a neatly organized code of letters and numbers, as perhaps, “G4b3: Do not begin a sentence with a conjunction.” But the problem came, especially in his creative writing classes, when his system seemed to codify matters of taste or style in a way that stifled what we felt to be creativity. “B4u2: Do not use slang.” What kind rule that? Not that Keables was inflexible. On the contrary, he could well appreciate the creative stretching of literary convention if given sufficient artistic justification, but there was the rub: he would be the judge of that sufficiency. Keables was the Inspector 12 of the English language.

Standards alone, however, do not constitute the kind of excellence in teaching of which Keables’ was the paradigm. Keables brought to the exercise of these standards an energy and a dedication that were awesome to behold. Who could forget the sight of Keables at a basketball game, open folder in lap, red pen in hand, eyes scrutinizing a referee’s call, voice raised in staunch encouragement? How he managed to correct the weekly deluge of papers as promptly, minutely and attentively as he consistently did, while at the same time remaining an unwaivering supporter of the school’s extracurricular life, defies comprehension. And if to this be added a recognition of the gentle and constant care he tendered his wife during Mrs. Keables’ long convalescence, we have a picture of a truly extraordinary human being.

When I say, as I do now firmly and forthrightly, that of all the teachers I have had in grade school, high school and beyond, Mr. Keables lives in me now as no other, I know that I do not speak alone, but that scores of twenty-odd voices join my own. And to say that Mr. Keables taught me to write, to think, and to hold high standards dear, does not begin to exhaust my debt to him. Above all these things, an incomparable gift he gave me. By his attention, by his care, by his devotion, by his codgery, nitpicking, maddening, fussbudgetty love he gave me dignity; he gave me myself. For this I love him. For this he lives and remains the same Mr. Keables—yesterday, today and tomorrow.

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You are invited. . .

… to write for our page. Please submit your ideas. (non-political and kind-spirited preferred). We find our alumni interesting and talented.