6/6 column: School

In third grade, Miss Hinschberger taught me to spell her name (a formidable task for any eight-year-old), by hanging a wall-sized banner behind her desk. It read, “Some burgers are hamburgers, some burgers are cheeseburgers, but the best burger is a Hinschberger.” She said we couldn’t graduate to fourth grade until we memorized it. Obviously, it stuck.

In fourth grade, Mrs. Bergland went beyond the three R’s to teach me how to use a Braille typewriter, spin raw wool, and filter honey. In fifth grade, Mrs. McKeever let us listen to the “Grease” soundtrack during art.

When I hit junior high, Mr. Dunning scared the bejezus out of me — and in the process, managed to get this 13-year-old to memorize the name of every country and major river on earth. And in high school, Mr. Dyrud’s enthusiasm for Wuthering Heights was so infectious that it played a defining role in my decision to major in English.

It’s been three decades since Miss Cerny sent me to the thinking corner for hitting Wendy Grand on the head with a rolled-up painting, yet those early school years remain some of the best remembered and most cherished of my life.

Tomorrow, Christian, my seven-year-old, officially completes first grade. I often wonder what memories he’ll take with him. Will it be the field trip to St. Marys helicopter pad? The St. Patrick’s Day leprechaun who snuck into his classroom to leave footprints on the ceiling? The mini-eraser rewards Mrs. Hansen doled out for good behavior?

The truth is, Christian probably won’t appreciate the real power of what he’s learned this year until he’s an adult.

Mrs. Hansen — a remarkable teacher Christian has been blessed to have two years running — has helped create a student who comes home from school excited about filling out his reading calendar. Who thinks math problems are fun. Who wants to learn all his spelling words by the pre-test on Wednesday. She has laid the foundation for students who not only want to make their teachers and parents proud — but who want to make themselves proud, too.

What an incredible gift.

I am often blown away by the quality of education our children receive in Rochester — and the team that pulls together to make it happen. At a school program at Churchill Elementary last week, I watched a principal warmly embracing her charges. A music teacher enthusiastically leading a gymnasium full of bright-eyed children in a school cheer. A kindergarten teacher pulling a nervous child onto her lap for comfort.

Our educators are incredible. And while Christian knows this, he doesn’t yet understand all the reasons why. He doesn’t know that they come to school early and leave late. That they manage overbearing parents and after-hours phone calls. That they nurture kids who need nurturing and nurse broken hearts over kids who are heartbreaking. That in addition to math and reading and science, they teach empathy and responsibility and perseverance. That they are paid far too little, yet spend their own money on school supplies.

But I know. And I couldn’t be more grateful for the education my son is getting in the Rochester Public Schools… even if the highlight of Christian’s first-grade year is, as he claims, playing a game called “Sparkle.”