SHE TAUGHT US HOW TO READ

SHE TAUGHT US HOW TO READ

     She only stood about five feet two inches tall, about the same size as the majority of her fifth and sixth grade students.  Well beyond retirement age and matronly, she loved teaching and watching her charges begin to understand what it meant to be able to read. She worked particularly hard in my case since I really struggled the first four years of school. She taught me the sounds of letters and the sounds they made when put together in words. Then helped me understand the relationship of words put together in sentences. She engaged in the “carrot and the stick” method of teaching, almost never using the stick. Her carrots were hugs that she was not afraid of doling out extensively. If we didn’t understand something we were given second, third or fourth chances to get it right. As the lights went on, so did the hugs.

     Our small-town grade school had eight grades, two floors, a boy’s bathroom and a girl’s bathroom. It also had a large lunchroom and a medium sized gym with a stage that could hold the school’s entire enrollment for the Christmas pageant and the spring concert. Of course, there was never more than 65 or 70 students enrolled at the school any given year. 

     There was one locker room in the basement under the stage that was used only for the boys. It was a time in history when girls didn’t play sports so they weren’t expected to sweat and therefore didn’t need to have a locker room. The two showers seldom expelled hot water, so the boys only used it when the volunteer basketball coach insisted that they spend a minimum of two minutes under the cold water. The two large bars of Ivory soap that were placed on the tray under each of the shower heads at the beginning of the school year, although greatly reduced in size, were still usable come spring. 

     The school was located in a small village with a population of 100 people, give or take an occasional birth or death of a long-time resident. People seldom moved in or out of the village. Most of the kids who attended the school were from the surrounding countryside. Their parents were either farmers or loggers by trade. Just as many were on one of the government assistant programs available at that time. No matter what their source of income, it was never enough to adequately provide for the larger than average size families. 

     The kids that lived in the village were only slightly better off in that they had relatively modern living conditions with real bathrooms, running water and electricity. Some folks even had telephones, albeit party lines. Mrs. Swanson was the local telephone operator and her husband acted as the lineman for the local telephone company. There were no secrets that Mrs. Swanson wasn’t privy too.  The families that fared the best were headed by the three rural route mail carriers, the owner of the lumber yard and the family that owned the local grocery store. The town kids made up about a third of the school’s population. 

     The school staff included four teachers. They were: Mrs. Ledin, the principal and seventh and eighth grade teacher; Mrs. Raspotnic, first and second grade teacher; Mrs. Koleski, third and fourth grade teacher; and my favorite, Mrs. Frankie who taught fifth and sixth grades. Each had their strengths and weaknesses and all were good and dedicated underpaid teachers. A music teacher, Mrs. Kozar, would visit the school once per week as did a physical education teacher, Mr. Copperrude. The support staff included the school cook, My mother Mrs. Skrypczak; her assistant and the janitor, Mr. Johnson. 

     We seldom saw Mr. Johnson during the day, except when one of the kids threw up in the classroom. He spent most of his time in the school basement “fixing stuff” or napping in an overstuffed chair in his workshop.  We knew of his existence, however, the minute we entered the school in the morning by the strong odor of Pine Sol. That smell only lasted until the school bus unloaded the kids from the farms who brought in that fresh from the cow barn fragrance. Oh, we all got used to it by recess and didn’t even notice it after lunch. Once in a while one of the kids would come to school with the sweet smell of lye soap. I’m not sure which was worse. I imagine that Mrs. Frankie preferred the smell of lye but was equally generous with the hugs no matter the origin.

     Mrs. Ledin and Mrs. Frankie both lived about twenty miles north of our village. Both were married to retired farmers and both could have retired if it weren’t for their love of teaching. Mrs. Frankie did not drive. She never had a driver’s license and refused to get behind the wheel of a car. When she was younger, she would often drive the old Case tractor to help her husband with bringing in crops. That meant that she didn’t have to drive beyond their property line. Fortunately, Mrs. Ledin lived near the Frankie farm and would drive the two of them to our school. If Mrs. Ledin happen to be off, Mr. Frankie would have to drive his wife to work and pick her up after classes.

     Because of her job as principal, Mrs. Ledin would often have to stay later to complete the extra duties that came with the job. That gave Mrs. Frankie the opportunity to hold one or more of us after class to work on our reading skills. Those kids that had to be on the bus were never kept later but were given that extra attention during the school day. I didn’t ride the bus, so I was among those to stay after school was out. I really resented having to stay later, but Mrs. Frankie would always let my mom know ahead of time so she would not worry if I didn’t arrive home with my younger sister. Most times I was the only hold over, which was particularly galling. I didn’t realize until later in life how important it was for her that I learned how to functionally read. 

     I didn’t realize at the time, but she also taught us more than reading and math. She taught us how to think and discern truth from fantasy. She taught us about the value of work and its rewards beyond the financial aspects. Her love of her students also taught us acceptance and understanding of people different from us. Her hugs were telling us that we had to be kind and understanding of others despite their failures. Most of all she taught us that we need to forgive, not only others but also ourselves. 

     Mrs. Frankie passed away many years ago but is remembered by those she taught. Literally hundreds of her students were so inspired by her dedication to teaching that they became teachers themselves. My own sister being one of them. 

     To this day, whenever I finish a good book or attempt to write one myself, I think of Mrs. Frankie and her fellow angels that taught us how to read and understand what we read. 

     God Bless you Mrs. Frankie and all of those who paved your way and all of those who followed in your footsteps.