Frederick Pankow - Lifelong Educator and GREAT Grandpa

We lost a great great man, today.  My grandpa, Fred Pankow.

I have many memories of my grandpa.  I spent most summers with him and Grandma in Michigan when I was younger.  I didn't get out there nearly as much as I should have as an adult.  But, I still looked up to him more than any other man in my life outside of my dad. 

I could share many of those memories with you, now.  Of fishing on Lake Miramichi, of trips to Florida, Canada or Mackinac Island, of hatching ducklings, or of the many letters he sent me offering me a quarter for every spelling error I found.

Instead, I would like to present you with another story.  Grandpa loved to tell (and write) stories.  This one is my favorite.  Grandpa was a lifelong educator.  He started as a high school teacher and retired superintendent.  He even has a school named after him.

I regret that I wasn't able to have him meet Owen in person.  I will miss him.  I will miss his stories. 

Please enjoy.

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I REMEMBER My First Year as a Teacher, 1948-1949 

By Fred Pankow 

　 

Joyce and I drove many miles on Michigan highways visiting several school districts seeking interviews for my first teaching position. Interviews were also conducted at the placement office of Central Michigan University; it is the school from which I graduated. Our first child (Gary) was born during final exam time at Central and the timing of his birth got me excused from one examination. With graduation my hope was to find a physical education teaching position. I soon learned that there were none, however, there seemed to be jobs for those who would accept positions which included coaching boys athletic teams. In those days girls had no competitive teams in most school districts. To find a teaching job I had to become a coach. I soon found such a position. On my first visit to Byron it seemed it was a long way into the countryside. I mentioned to Joyce, “We are going to run out of road before we get to this town.” After a few months the rather long drives to the big towns were a pleasure through the beautiful farmland. 

　 

In 1948 teachers were hired for whatever salary they agreed to. There was no union or salary schedule. There was no extra pay for and no bargaining about extra duties which may be assigned. A typical teaching assignment was one of, or a combination of, these subject areas: social studies, English, commercial, agriculture, homemaking, mathematics, wood shop, etc. My contract was as teacher of social studies, and sports’ teams’ coach. I looked forward to my assignment at $3,000 for the school year and was very happy to have found work. 

　 

As the coach for all sports it soon became apparent that field preparation, hiring officials, and recruiting ticket takers for home games was also my responsibility. It was on the job training. 

　 

The football team was 6-man football. I was coaching the first 6-man football team I had ever seen. We lacked some things: but never lacked team spirit or support from the community. A team father, John Dyer marked off the football field for me; his son Bill played on the team. We even had a lighted field which was built by the community. I continue to hear from Wanda (Dyer), Bill’s sister, and her husband Darrell Barnhart to this day. 

　 

We had two basketball teams. Games were played in the Town Hall where the playing court was less than regulation size. The team dressed in a room which was, at one time, a small storage room in the basement of the hall. There were no showers only a few benches. 

　 

Spring brought with it preparation for the baseball season. I learned to drive a school bus; at times I transported the team to away games. For home games it was my duty to coach the team and prepare the ball diamond. The equipment and much of the labor, for preparing the diamond, came from members of the community. Our home game umpire (only one was used standing behind the pitcher) was a full-time farmer and part time umpire, Henry Bird. Mr. Bird had the full umpire uniform and was totally aware of the rules of the game. He taught me a few things. 

　 

Shortly after we first moved to town (July. 1948) the Superintendent asked me to go to the Chevrolet auto dealer, in Owosso, and obtain the driver training car for the year. When I spoke to the dealership owner he informed me, “I am not providing a driver training car this year.” He felt there had been a problem the previous year, however, he was nice enough to once again provide the automobile for our students. Perhaps he felt sorry for the new kid on the block. 

　 

As the social studies teacher my assignment included 12th grade Civics (government), American History and World History I was also assigned the teaching of a chemistry class because I had taken college chemistry classes. As the chemistry teacher I began to clean the glass fronted chemical storage cabinets. There were mysterious powders, and bottles of liquids of unknown purpose with labels long gone. 

　 

As the 12th grade Civics teacher I became senior class advisor. No big deal, right? However, I soon learned that after graduation the graduating class takes an annual school bus trip to Washington, D.C and I would be the chaperon in charge. More on the job training. Other chaperons were the bus driver/mechanic Lyle Fisher and his wife Mae and another teacher (female). Lyle and Mae had taken the trip in previous years which relieved me of much anxiety. The students had saved, in the class treasury, from kindergarten for this trip. Housing during the trip was to be school district supplied tents which were packed in the rear of the bus. I was informed, by the superintendent, that the girls should wear dresses on the trip. The father, of one class member, privately informed me that his daughter, had but one dress. In preparation for the trip I informed the girls that they must wear dresses “on the day we left town.” (From then on they wore slacks.) Thanks to great chaperons and cooperative students we had a ball and all went well. We never used the tents. We slept in motels paid for from the class funds. 

　 

The annual community potluck athletic banquet was also the responsibility of the coach. The dinner went well except one table, loaded with food, tipped when people sat on the bench type seat attached to one side of the table. The families set up again and we went about our business. The number attending exceeded our expectations, however, there is never a shortage of good food at a farmland potluck. 

　 

In the middle of this first year I was named school principal. No specifics were given; but it seemed to be for all grades. The reason for the appointment was that someone had to be in charge during the absence of the superintendent. There was no change in any other assignments or salary. I was now “Principal”, “Teacher”, “Coach”, “Senior Class Sponsor”. My office was a former cloak room 8’ x 8’ with all the coat hooks still on three walls. The room would do as I was seldom there. 

　 

As principal I assumed student attendance was one of my responsibilities. For example, there were two brothers with a single parent father. One morning one of the boys told me his brother was still in bed. Knowing the father was at work out of town I went to their apartment: threw the covers off the sleeping brother, got him dressed, and off to school we went. Try that today. On another occasion a young man was not in school. His mother told me he had told her there was no school and he went fishing. I went to the pond, stopped the fishing, and marched him to school. I love this scene because a teacher, who saw us, said, “Tom Sawyer, if I ever saw it. The boy in coveralls and the principal in a suit and tie marching single file back to school from the fishing hole.” 

　 

Near the end of that first year I learned that annually the seniors took a “Skip” day. In the absence of any outside advice I made my first administrative decision. I informed the senior class of 22 members, that they could be excused from school for their skip day (cheers), however, there was one stipulation. I would “skip” with them (no cheers) and it would be a planned day. We went on an all-day trip in four automobiles, first we went via the bridge to Canada and back via the Detroit/Windsor Tunnel. We visited Metro Airport, went to dinner, then back home. Only negative, one busted headlight. The “skip“ day was a great success. Eleventh graders asked if they could do it next year. Some of these students had never been far from home and to visit Canada was to go to a foreign country. 

　 

Somehow, I became the announcer for the annual school/community Christmas program. The parents always love the performance of their children which made the announcer look good also. At one Christmas time, while I was at the Church Christmas service someone had tied a live, old, toothless sheep in my life sized lighted manger scene. (Joyce was home ill but was sworn to secrecy). It turned out to be the Board of Education President (Robert Wiles) and Secretary (Lee McLaughlin) I got $9 for the ewe and Lee did not charge me for hauling it to Detroit to the stockyard. There is a follow up to that story. Several weeks later I kept an appointment with a medical doctor in Gaines, a neighboring village, as I entered the doctor’s office and gave my name he said, “Oh! You’re the sheep man.” 

　 

Not only did I have many opportunities to fish in the local Mill Pond, in a borrowed row boat, but I also learned a great deal those first few years: thanks to the superintendent who found plenty for me to do; the students and community adults who made my years there mostly fun, and the staff members who could not have been more helpful in this farming country surrounding the little town of Byron, Michigan. 

　 

P.S. Having lost many more games than we won I was soon replaced as coach. Eventually I was relieved of some of my other responsibilities. During my last two years in Byron I was promoted to Superintendent of Schools (final salary $6,000). With the help of an excellent “school law” attorney, and a dedicated Board of Education, we annexed two and one half primary school districts (closed one room schools). Soon thereafter the Byron Agricultural School District built a new elementary school, a gymnasium, and a new modern football field. During the years in Byron, Joyce gave birth to our daughter (Colleen) and son (Brian). Joyce was always my support and a wonderful mother and homemaker. 

It is possible I acquired more practical knowledge in Byron than I had in four years of formal college class work. The old three story (basement plus two) brick school building is gone now and the district has grown in size and added several modern school buildings. I wonder if the community is having as much fun and as few heartaches as we had during the seven years the Pankow family was in town. 

My Grandpa is Cooler than Your Grandpa

Clearly, coolness runs in the family.

My Grandpa, Fred V. Pankow, likes to write.  I remember many letters that he would send me when I was young.  Often including a misspelled word here or there, offering me a dime for every one I found. 

Later in life, he wrote a regular newsletter for his community as well as stories that he would send to his great grandkids.  Desmond has taken some of these into school and the teacher has read them to the class. 

Here is a new short story, by my Grandpa Pankow.  I like it.  I think you will, too.

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I Remember: The Swing and Our Town. by Fred Pankow

Bill and Mary were newlyweds when they hung the wooden swing on which they now sat
each evening. It is fastened, by chains, to the ceiling of their porch. A porch that crossed
the entire front of the house as many porches did then. This house was their first major
purchase at a price of $4,000. Four thousand dollars was a big chunk considering Bill’s
salary was $3,000 a year. But that’s the way it was 67 years ago.

Bill and Mary often talked about how things had changed during their marriage. He fretted
about what he considered his lack of accomplishment. A doctor could cure illnesses, a
policeman could solve crimes, a fireman could save lives. It seemed he failed to do
anything truly noteworthy. He spent most of his working life in a factory, in Detroit,
where he helped produce small parts for automobiles.

Mary reminded him that the new automobiles couldn’t move without the parts he made.
He agreed but felt he contributed little; such as would a teacher, airline pilot, or scientist.
“Even politicians did important things, they build buildings and pass important laws.”

Bill and Mary continued to swing and talk about the many changes they had witnessed.
They saw many good things happen and some happenings weren’t so good. A swing
tended to make one relax and Mary got to thinking about regular people such as
themselves. Those who raised families and did the things that good people do without
fanfare.

“Bill, we often overlook what’s right in front of our faces.”

“How so?” he asked wondering if he had missed something.

It appeared she had given this subject considerable study.

“There was our work on the fund raising at the elementary school even though we had no
children attending,” Mary explained. “Then there was your work with your union that
resulted in new safety measures for the workers, and how about the recycling committee
on which we both served for years, and there are the taxes we pay. We paid our fair share
toward the building and operation of the schools, the Art Center, the Zoo, the County Park,
not to mention the roads and we don’t even drive anymore.”

Mary was on a roll. “You and I have done many worthwhile things during our lives here.
We have helped build a community. We don’t have a building with our names on it but
perhaps the town square should have a plaque honoring all the people just like you and me.
It could say, ‘In recognition of the common people. This is their town. The seeds they
planted will bear fruit forever.’”

Bill agreed that he had overlooked the contributions regular folks, like Mary and he, have
made.

“You’re right Mary this is our town. Folks like us built it.”

Then he thought. It wouldn’t have to be a big or fancy plaque. Put it in the park. What
would it cost? We could place a jar near the cash register in the Food Mart and ask people
to drop their loose change. Just some simple words like...

“WITHOUT THOUGHT OF GLORY

THEY BUILT THIS COUNTRY ONE TOWN AT A TIME,

WE CALL THEM CITIZENS.

NO NAMES APPEAR HERE, THERE ARE SO MANY,
TO KNOW THEM YOU HAVE ONLY TO LOOK AROUND,

THEY ARE YOUR NEIGHBORS.

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TO THOSE WHO GO UNRECOGNIZED: To each of you in recognition of your life long
contributions to the towns in which you have lived and the seeds you have planted for
that’s the way it is.

My dad is cooler than your dad.

A few months back, my dad started a pretty rad routine. 

One day, I received an email titled, "Sideways Stories from Wayside School Chapter 1."

I open up the email to find an audio recording of my dad reading a chapter from Sideways Stories From Wayside School.  I don't think he knew at the time, but this was a book I thought was pretty hilarious when I was a kid.  Regardless, he picked a good one.

Desmond loves being read to at night.  It's one of his favorite things.  In fact, he gets really bummed when he doesn't get a story.  There have been plenty of nights when he has had to forego stories because he spent too much time playing video games or farting around.  So, he's gotten pretty good at wrapping things up when he knows it's getting late because he doesn't want to miss his story time.

So, when Grandpa started sending stories, it fit right into the nightly routine.  Now, every single night Des is home with us, we curl up in his bed and hit play on the latest chapter.  Basically, it's our nightly audio book as narrated by Gary Pankow. 

Not that long ago, we finished Sideways Stories.  Did you know it has a sequel?  I didn't.  Not until Desmond told me.  "Do you think Grandpa will send the second one?" 

Sure enough, once we finished book 1, Grandpa started sending chapters from Wayside School is Falling Down.  Lately, he's even been including photos of the chapter pages so Des can see the pictures.  As you can see, Marley gets to enjoy the stories as well.  I'm also saving all the Chapters for Owen to enjoy when he's older. 

Desmond has become quite the reader in his own right.  Many nights I have had to pop in his room and tell him off because he's still reading at 10 or 11 at night.  One night I had to go in there at midnight (it was a weekend, but still)!  I am pretty sure he gets it from his Grandpa. 

It was a big day for me

So...today was a pretty big day.

No...I didn't win the lottery.  No, I didn't get promoted to Vice President.  No, my kids didn't cure cancer.

BIGGER!

You see, I have certain heroes in life.  Heroes that, to me, are the epitome of manhood.  Heroes that, with very little effort, are able to make people all over the world say, "Damn...there goes a real man."
These heroes are:

My homie, Andy Palmer

My Cousin-In-Law Gary (he's the one on the right)

And Commander William T. Riker

What makes these men heroes, you ask?  Well, Andy is building his own house.  That's pretty manly, but that's not what it is.

Gary formed his own highly successful marketing business that thrives in Seattle today.  Totally manly...but, whatever.

And, Riker...how many times has he saved the universe  Still...this is not what impresses me.

No...clearly, my admiration for these men is due to one thing.

THEIR DAMN SEXY BEARDS!!!

By now, you may be wondering, why is today so special?  Well, I will tell you.

For many years, approximately 40 now, I have tried to grow a beard.  Tried in college, tried as a young adult, tried as an old adult.  I could grow mean sideburns and I could manage an ok chin strap.  But, there were way too many patches.  I looked like a 16 year old...with bags under his eyes and grey in his beard.  But, I kept trying.  Lord knows why.

In late 2017, I decided to try out a goatee.  It looked dumb, but it was full, so I ran with it.  The people at work were nice and humored me.  Kim told me she "didn't hate it."  But, she totally hated it.  A few dudes at work have nice beards.  In my envy, I have told them so on a few occasions.   One of them told me, you should grow a full beard!  I was like, I can't!  He said, do it anyway!

So, once again, I tried growing a beard.  I'm not sure what's different this round.  But, something happened today that made me acknowledge that today, FINALLY, I officially have a beard!

I was chatting with a couple new teammates (I recently joined a new team at Google) about new seating arrangements.  All 3 dudes, all 3 joining this new team and will soon be sitting together.  One dude has an amazing beard.  One dude is totally clean shaven.  The last dude is me.

Says bearded dude to unbearded dude, "Dude...you're gonna need to grow a beard if you're gonna sit with us."

Did you see it!  Did you see what happened there?  Unprovoked, unbeckoned, a person who doesn't know me that well, who is not familiar with my unbearded face implies that because he, a well bearded man, and myself will be in this seating pod, the clean shaven person must grow a beard to join us!!!  I HAVE A BEARD!!!

Kim still hates it.  But, I'm gonna ride this for a bit.  Maybe I'll go build a house.

Have I mentioned how cute my kids are?

Not to mention my whole family.

Thanks to Nikki Womac, OLG mom, photographer and all around awesome person.  She donated a photo session to the school auction which Kim and I purchased.  She's one of those great photogs that take candid photos while you live your life.  Unfortunately, Kim and I are terrible and awkward models.  At least our kids are adorbs.  Take a look.

Merry Christmas from the Pankows

Greetings!

The end of the year is approaching.  But, before we close, I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!  I hope you get to relax and I hope you find some peace during this time.

I will (hopefully) get my annual end of year post up next week.  But, in the meantime, please enjoy this Pankow Christmas Jammies picture and this video of Opie giving baby kisses.

Look how cute my kids are.

No, really.  Look. 

First school photo for this dude.  Nailed it!

This one gave us a legit smile this year!  Lady killer, I tell you!