When I was thinking about Apollo and Walter Cronkite, I also thought about Mrs. McGinn. She was my second grade teacher. And then, I checked my local paper and found she died over the weekend.
Some people were meant to teach. She was one of them. She encouraged us. She loved us. She laughed. She was bigger than the school. She was Mrs. McGinn.
She was really tall and she liked the Packers, sort of a power forward who liked sports. What wasn’t to like?
One project she did every year was hatching chickens in her class. We’d start with a couple of eggs in a incubator. Each day we’d come in and check progress wondering when those things would crack open. Eggs don’t change much when they’re hatching. And, when the chickens hatched we all went home and asked our parents if we could have a chicken.
Around my high school graduation, I received a letter in the mail. It was a letter to myself written in the second grade. I’d completely forgotten I did this. Mrs. McGinn didn’t. She remembered me, and every other second grader that went through her class for 30 years.
Growing up, there are people who have a real impact on your life. Mrs. McGinn was that for me. Sleep well Mrs. McGinn.