MR. PAUL GRENINKO
4th Grade Teacher
Farrand Elementary School
Plymouth, MI
School Year 1988-1989
Everyone has that one teacher {and some may be lucky enough to have more than one} that made them who they are. We look back on our years of schooling and can identify the person we spent one of the best years of our lives with, learning not only the academic requirements but also how to be a good human being. Sometimes, this teacher inspires us to become teachers ourselves.
Over the summer of 1988, my mom moved our family to Plymouth, Michigan. My sister and I began Kindergarten and Fourth Grade at Farrand Elementary School. I would spend the single best and single worst year of my academic life at this school. I have great memories of my time at Farrand, and most of them center around my fourth grade teacher: Mr. Paul Greninko.
I remember Mr. G being larger than life and older than dirt. Looking back, he was probably only in his forties or fifties. But man, he looked 80 to me. And he was a big man. I felt like he was Paul Bunyan in disguise. Big white beard and full face. When talking about various drills and safety procedures, Mr. G told us during a tornado we would crowd in our classroom closet and if a real tornado were to come through he would jump over top of our class to protect us. God I was terrified! I thought he was going to crush us and I didn't know whether dying by being crushed by Mr. G or swept up in a tornado was worse! But, he was passionate about protecting us and I knew he would do whatever he could to ensure we were safe.
I was the new kid to Farrand from day 1. A few months into the year, however, a newer kid joined our class. Her name was Michelle and she was deaf. She had a device she had to wear in her ears that connected to an amplifier Mr. G had to wear around his neck. On her first day, in order make her right at home, he planned a trick on our class. He sent Michelle on an errand to the office {and his amplifier was tucked into his shirt}. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He said something to the effect of, "Michelle, when you come back to class, turn in three circles, hop twice on your left foot, and shout TURTLE really loud." When she returned and did just that, we thought she had powers. Michelle and Mr. G revealed their secret and shared with us Michelle's story. Mr. G then called me to the front of the room and allowed me to communicate with Michelle from another room to show us how the device truly worked for her. Why did he choose me? I think it was because he saw how shy I was, that I was new and so was she, and we could become friends. And we did. Michelle was my first best friend.
Michelle and I both had a crush on this little boy named Aaron. I'm pretty sure the entire class of girls had a crush on him too. Poor Aaron. On Valentine's day, Mr. G had a game called "race to the donut" that we could play. He had a donut hole on a string. One boy on one end and a girl on the other. Whoever chewed the string up and got to the donut first won. Obviously if both sides wanted to win, they'd end up kissing. I can only shake my head at this today. But then, when the girls were chosen to pick a boy to play against...poor Aaron. I think he had to play against every single girl. Toward the end he got smart and just held the end of the string in his mouth. Lots of disappointed girls!
My most favorite part of fourth grade was spelling. Not because I loved spelling. But because the reward for scoring 100% on your Friday spelling test was that Mr. G would walk you into the teacher's lounge {yes, they actually did exist} and buy you a pop from the pop machine. I know this does not sound exciting. But for someone whose mom forbid pop at home, this was my one opportunity to taste the forbidden drink! I studied so hard to ace these tests every week. Every Friday I would go get my Coke, pop it open, and sit it on the corner of my desk. I would sip that thing all day long. I think Mr. G is why I can spell and write so well. I even won the school spelling bee the next year in 5th grade. Unfortunately, the prize was a massive dictionary and not a six-pack of Coke.
Mr. G used to take us on walking field trips to McDonald's too. Once a month during lunch. Our entire class, with only 1 adult, would walk through the neighborhood and across a major street to McDonald's. We could order whatever we wanted {and at this point, you're way too cool for a Happy Meal}, and sit wherever we wanted. You already know pop was forbidden in my house? So was fast food. So this was always the high point of our month with Mr. G. And I always tried to sit with him and Michelle during these outings.
Some of the things Mr. G did for us couldn't be done anymore for safety and possible litigation reasons. But it was those simple things that I remember most. He made me feel welcome, cared for, loved, recognized, and safe.
My fifth grade year was my worst on record. I was out for a month with pneumonia. My teacher hated me. Now, as an adult, I can think logically and know he didn't really "hate" me. But he definitely had a strong dislike. I was kept in from recess almost every day because I didn't have my multiplication facts memorized quickly enough. I still remember that teacher, Mr. Addis. It's funny how we remember our best and our worst, and how both shape us into who we are.
A few years ago, I looked up the Farrand website to see that Mr. Greninko was no longer there. But Mr. Addis was. There was still that hurt inside of me that made me want to contact him to let him know how emotionally bruised he left me after fifth grade. I wanted to make sure he had changed and he didn't continue to be the bad memory to other children. But I didn't. I wanted to reach out to Mr. G to let him know how much he shaped who I am professionally. I don't know if he retired, or even if he's still alive. From my calculations, he would be close to 110 #kidding
I attribute who I've become to my years at Farrand and my two male teachers: Mr. G and He Who Must Not Be Named. I became a teacher, then an assistant principal, and now a principal. My goal as a teacher was to be someone else's Mr. G and nobody else's Voldemort.
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