Suzanne Swett Whitlow

There are people who spend their lives teaching.

Then there are people who spend their lives helping others discover who they were meant to become.

My grandmother was one of those rare people.

For more than three decades, she served as a guidance counselor at Maplewood High School in Nashville, Tennessee. Thousands of students walked through her office doors carrying uncertainty, fear, dreams, and questions about their future.

Most of them left believing they could do more than they imagined.

To her students, she was Mrs. Whitlow.

To her lifelong friends, she was Suzanne.

To our family, she was simply Sue.

Three names.

One remarkable woman.

I had the privilege of knowing every version of her.

As a student at Maplewood High School, I sat in her office like everyone else. She was my guidance counselor before she was my grandmother at the end of the school day. Watching students greet her in the hallways was like watching sunlight move through the building. She knew names. She remembered stories. She celebrated victories that others overlooked and encouraged students long after graduation.

She never saw young people as they were.

She saw who they could become.

When the final bell rang, Mrs. Whitlow became Sue.

The office gave way to home, where family gathered around her table and laughter echoed through every room. She made everyone feel expected. Holidays weren't complete until she was there. Sunday dinners lasted long after the plates were cleared because the conversation mattered just as much as the meal.

And somewhere between Maplewood High and her dining room table, I unknowingly found my own calling.

While other children visited their grandparents after school, I often found myself back in her office helping organize student schedules, filing paperwork, reading maps before GPS existed, and listening as she gently guided students toward their next chapter.

At the time, I thought I was simply spending time with my grandmother.

Today, I understand I was watching one of the finest human resources professionals I have ever known...

She just happened to call herself a guidance counselor.

She listened before she advised.

She asked thoughtful questions instead of making assumptions.

She believed every person deserved dignity, even on their hardest day.

She advocated for people when they couldn't advocate for themselves.

She recognized potential before others could see it.

Years later, those same values became the foundation of my own career.

Whether I'm conducting an employee investigation, coaching an executive through change, or helping someone navigate one of the most difficult conversations of their career, I realize I'm drawing from lessons that began in Mrs. Whitlow's office.

BeeSeated didn't begin with me.

It began with Sue.

It began with a woman who understood that every person has a story worth hearing and a future worth believing in.

Every tribute I write is, in some small way, a continuation of the work she devoted her life to.

Helping people feel seen.

Helping people feel valued.

Helping people believe they matter.

So this seat belongs to three women who were, in truth, one.

Mrs. Whitlow.

Suzanne.

Sue.

And to me...

She will always be my Sue Baby.