Small school, big heart: My years at Rebersburg Elementary | Opinion

My years at Rebersburg Elementary began when I was a scrawny, tomboyish kindergartener. Mrs. Reish was my teacher in that special little one-room schoolhouse — the same building that now stands as the town museum. I can still picture it: wooden cubbies where we hung our coats, small tables where we sat and played, and the feel of the smooth floor where we built castles out of wooden blocks.

I can even smell those blocks and the ride-on toys, worn with years of use and imagination.

One memory from kindergarten remains especially vivid. One day at snack time, we were served V8 juice alongside our little flowered sugar cookies. I refused to drink it. Everyone else went out to recess, and there I sat — alone with a tiny Dixie cup of tomato juice. Ever the problem solver, I waited until the coast was clear and poured it down the sink. The solution? Effective. The consequence? Harsh. I spent the rest of recess standing in the corner. To this day, I remember the feel of that wall — and to this day, I still won’t touch V8 juice.

In first grade, we had Mrs. Bierly, and it was the year to learn handwriting. I set one big goal for myself: to have my paper displayed on the door — the one reserved for students with the best penmanship. By the end of the year, mission accomplished.

Second grade was my hardest year, but not because of schoolwork. That year, I lost my Pappy suddenly. I remember getting the news before I left for school. When I arrived, my teacher, Mrs. Greenland, was there — warm, steady, and full of quiet understanding. She comforted me through that first heartbreaking day and throughout the rest of the year. To this day, Mrs. Greenland remains my favorite teacher — not for what she taught, but for the way she loved.

Third grade is mostly a blur. We had two teachers, and though I don’t remember many lessons, I do remember the class-wide paddling. Someone in class misbehaved, and no one would confess. The result? We all lined up in the hallway and took a whack. Did it solve the mystery? I don’t remember. But I do know I never got paddled again.

Fourth grade brought a shift. Mrs. Keller was our teacher, and this was the year academics began to matter in a new way. Students started switching classrooms for different subjects. I still remember the day I was told I’d be moving to the fifth-grade room for reading. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t feel like I belonged, and being placed with older kids made me uncomfortable. I stopped enjoying reading. In fact, I never quite got that joy back.

Fifth grade brought some excitement. I was thrilled to have Mrs. Abbott as my teacher. She trusted us with real responsibility. We did independent study projects in the library and had jobs around the building. Still, I was pushed forward again — this time to sixth grade for both reading and math. I wasn’t thrilled, but at least Mr. Dorman’s classroom was a fun place to be and he was the coolest (and only male) teacher in the building. To this day, Mr. Dorman knows me when he sees me. We share stories and talk school politics.

By sixth grade, we were the big kids on campus. We had longer recesses and full access to all the playground equipment, the merry-go-round of death, the big wooden swings, and the towering metal ladders that reached the top of the giant jungle gym structure. We’d climb to the top and then slide down the long, shiny pole like the playground royalty we believed ourselves to be.

My fondest memory, however, didn’t happen in the classroom — or even inside the building. It happened every morning, just outside, when my daddy dropped me off in front of that little red brick schoolhouse. The truck would stop, I’d lean over, give him a kiss, and say, “I love you.” He’d smile and reply, “I love you too — now make it a great day.” As I got older, I sometimes felt embarrassed by our little routine, but what I wouldn’t give now to have just one of those mornings back. Memories are precious. Cherish them always.

During those seven years, lessons were learned, my heart and mind were molded, and lifelong friendships were made. It is because of Rebersburg Elementary that I have a forever friend in Lori Brungart Zerby. It is because of the teachers there that I went on to become a teacher myself. I am who I am today because of the strong foundation laid at the school that later became known as Miles Township Elementary.

Now, all that was Rebersburg Elementary is gone.

As a school board member, I tried my hardest to keep it open for just one more year — long enough for the community to celebrate it as the special place it truly was. But to no avail. The doors may be closed, but the memories live on. Mine have survived more than 50 years.

Thank you for the opportunity to share this special, formative time in my life. Rebersburg Elementary shaped not only my education, but my heart.

Kim Kellerman Domin is a Penns Valley Area School District board member.