First Day Of School

First Day Of School Picture - 2024

Since as long as I can remember I’ve had a “First Day Of School” (often with a picture); dating back to the fall of 1971 when I started attending.  I can recall waiting in our driveway for the school bus as a kindergartner - at the top of the hill, on an unnamed road North of Sparr (known at that time simply as “Rural Route #1”), waiting to travel the seemingly long way to Johannesburg Elementary on the north-side of a small Kindergarten-12th grade building.  I had attended preschool the year before that with my teacher Mrs. Driscoll.  The preschool met in the basement of Gaylord’s small St. Andrew's Episcopal Church with the unique chalet style roof; a good deterrent for our heavy snowfall in Northern Michigan.  Mom was the one who drove me into town that year, and although foundational, it was only a couple of times a week.

I started at Joburg Elementary School a month after turning 5; the birthday when I received my blue scooter that I’d ride down the grassy hill off our backyard - dragging it by the handle back to the top or leaving it at the bottom until someone helped me.  Over the next few years a couple of the neighbor kids would congregate at our driveway before school because my Dad had put in a tetherball court just back from the road.  That meant that the pole was a maple tree cut from the woods, fixed at the top with an eye bolt that the rope and ball hung from, which was a perfect remedy to while away the time as us kids waited to be picked up by the bus.

First Day Of School Picture - 1971

As I reflect back, I guess I’ve had a first day of school for most of my life; 54 years to be exact.  I’m not sure how the years slipped by like that!  It feels monumental, and yet overwhelming at the same time.  It’s kind of John Henry-esque.  I love John’s fortitude, his style, and the legacy he left.  He’s outright my favorite folk tale hero.  And while he wins against the machine in the well known ballad, he dies from that contest with his hammer in his hand.  I suppose I feel something like that.  For 18 of those 54 years I was a student; preschool through college.  And after a year of student teaching, getting married, and working for a lawn service (the last while sending out resumes with a cover letter), I was hired and taught in a 5th grade classroom for 35 years; all in the same K-8 district.

Right this minute the kids and teachers of that district are putting the final touches on their first week of school.  They’ve been using these first few days to reacquaint themselves with routines, introduce expectations, and begin to build healthy relationships that will catapult them into next week’s full 5 days and the school year ahead.  I know this because it’s ingrained in my make-up and DNA.  I could teach with my eyes blind folded and one arm tied behind my back, because I have done it for so long, I was good at it, and loved it to boot!

As for me right now?  I’m sitting on our back deck, under the eaves and close to the house, journaling my thoughts into this worn composition book.  Not because it’s in the shade, although that’s a plus even with the unseasonably cool weather we’re having right now, but because a spider has spun an intricate web between the other chairs, table, and collapsed umbrella.  For 35 years I’ve taught science, and today will not be the day I break one of my many mottos which stated, “Don’t kill it unless you plan on eating it.  If you don’t plan on eating it, don’t kill it!”  Those were words to live by as a teacher instructing 10 and 11 year olds, and especially when it’s a cross orbweaver spider!  So the arachnid is getting free reign of the table area right now, and I’m writing with this journal in my lap.  Good luck little fella.  May you snare a big juicy arthropod.  From the bits of dried exoskeletons on the tabletop, you’ve done just that over the last couple of days!

So yes, I’m retired now; whatever that means.  Those I began teaching with (the same teachers that started soon after the 3 one-room school houses combined) have been retired for some time now.  I’m simply joining them.  Again, I’m not sure how the years slipped by like that, but they have.  I consider myself a link between those who established our district and those who are now teaching and setting new standards to match the changing times.  I don’t mean that I’m stuck between the past and present.   I see myself as a combination of both; having started with chalkboards & the occasional use of calculators, and then moving to whiteboards & a computer lab, before settling on Smart Boards & one-to-one student Chromebooks.  There has always been a past that goes further back than whatever we can recall, and there will always be a present going forward beyond what we can imagine; for all of us.  The jump in technology in the span of years that I taught, however, has been astronomical.

If I gained a millimeter of jumping ability for everyone who has asked me how retirement is treating me (insert Mr. Rhines’ metric system speech number #124.8b), then I could easily tomahawk dunk by now!  I get it, you need a standard question to start a conversation.  It’s like asking an 18 year old, “How’s college going?”  Assuming they are going that route over entering the trades, signing up for the military, or diving into the job force.  My standard answer this summer has been, “I don’t know yet…”  I spent all of June dismantling my museum of a classroom.  The first part of July was time to travel; with my wife to visit family, and then camping in Northern Michigan with my cousins, before settling into jobs around the house.  I’m not sure where August went, other than writing thank you cards for retirement gifts.  I guess I was simply trying to search for a routine while getting regrounded in running and biking.  Part of that time was dealing with the guilt that rises from knowing that teachers were preparing for school and I wasn’t.  Or that I’m retired but, “still so young” - as if the sacrifices or “sell my soul” attitude I’ve had all these years while teaching, coaching, being the athletic director, working intramurals, mentoring, or co-leading our environmental club wasn’t enough of a reason.  Not to mention the preparation for the annual creek walk day, 5th grade camp, summer camps, or any number of various activities.  These were choices, not chores in the sense of obligations.  I grew up on a small farm, so I know what chores are, and I loved 95% of those too!  Minus weeding the garden in the hot sun, although it often had its rewards with a trip to the lake to cool off once my sisters and I stopped whining and finished the task.  It’s where I learned firsthand the whole idea of delayed gratification.  What I did at school was what I loved to do because I chose to do it; it provided some of my identity and purpose, as many people feel who have connected with their careers.  Whatever task I had decided to do at school involved everything I had; sometimes spread over the many activities, but something I could always hang my hat on with pride at the end of the day.

About now school is letting out and the staff is talking in the hallways; themselves excited about the coming weekend, and I have to wonder, “What now?”  I recently saw a sit down conversation between Oprah Winfrey and NBC’s meteorologist, Al Roker, who was about to turn 70 years old.  When contemplating time, getting older, and next steps, her advice to him was, “When you don’t know what to do, do nothing.” In other words, “Be still.”  Al replied as a network spokesperson by saying, “We don’t like dead air!”  Personally, that bell rang loud and true; right upside my head.

Colleagues from yesteryear suggested that I go do something last week as the students returned to school.  Since my wife was working and enjoying her job in the library at a nearby college, I took a solo trip Up North into Wisconsin to camp and fish; a couple of other passions I have.  For me, trips like that don’t lead to being still and doing nothing.  It seemed I was constantly moving, while burning energy.  That’s often how I like to relax.  Don’t get me wrong, there were times when I would sit and either observe nature around me or read from the two books I have going right now; Gathering Moss by Robin Wall Kimmerer, and The Backyard Adventurer by Beau Miles.  The first book I bought at a cool, quaint, shop in Waco, Texas while visiting our daughter and son-in-law, and the second was given to me by my kids upon my retirement.  I guess I also relaxed the first night after setting up camp, when I woke up from only two hours of sleep to the light of a nearly full moon; listening to the barred owls calling in the hollow, coyotes laughing up on the ridges, and a family of raccoons trooping around my tent and picnic table foraging for anything I may have forgotten to store away back up in my Jeep - which fortunately I had not.  The second night of my stay I slept like the dead.

When I burned energy I was often cooking over an open fire (cutting and prepping food), trout fishing in a creek that bounces between bluffs of exposed Cambrian sandstone (in waders against the current), or running beautiful dirt trails (in what would otherwise be known as rugged terrain).  I wanted to journal while sitting outside my tent, but the process of what I deem as camping kept me from doing that this particular time, until I could return home and reflect.

I took my obligatory “First Day Of School” picture this year, but I’m standing on a gravel bar in the shade of a hemlock covered bluff (as opposed to standing beside the flag hanging on our home, or in front of the school).  At least I remembered to smile with my eyes open this year.  In 1989, my first year teaching, the photographer captured a picture of me with my eyes closed.  I didn’t care or know any better, so I didn’t participate in “retakes.”  Plus, those were the days when you waited for the film to be developed before we knew what digital photography really meant.  Consequently, I was not in that year’s class picture or school yearbook, except for one or two random shots and the one where I’m standing next to my first basketball team as their coach.  Suddenly I cared!  From then on, I always made sure my eyes were open; and I mean that literally and figuratively - as an awareness to what’s going on around me.

School, teaching, and living your passions in general, are meant to be relational.  It’s one way that we associate directly and make connections.  When I watch my favorite TV show, Alone, it’s what the contestants are always whittled down to…regardless of whether they are starving, injured, or pushing themselves to the utmost in order to win the whole shebang.  They eventually desire some degree of human contact; be it friends or family, past or present.  That applies to the most introverted hermit, to the most outgoing life of the party.  We all need relationships of some kind, which is why I love the irony in the multi-layer title Alone.  It’s also why I like the stories behind those first day of school pictures.

While I myself am going to miss many of the connections I have at school, I am looking forward to maintaining them, albeit under slightly different circumstances.  After a healthy break, I would entertain being a guest speaker or storybook reader at school, baking treats for the staff, attending an after school activity, or coming in for an occasional lunch simply to visit.  One of the retirees from the past used to come back to eat lunch with the staff in the teacher’s lounge whenever we had, “Government Chicken Day” (as he called it).  I always found that hilarious, but it made sense as well to periodically reconnect.

In the meantime, and as I’m redefining myself, I’ll follow the advice written by the authors in the books that I mentioned.  Kimmerer stated, “Mosses have a covenant with change; their destiny is linked to the vagaries of rain.  They shrink and shrivel while carefully laying the groundwork for their renewal.  They give me faith.” (37)  Maybe it’s because I taught science for 35 years, but I love that whole idea of preparing now for the unknown of the future.  We all do that, knowingly or unknowingly, because even NOT making a decision is a decision.  She simply chose to convey that through the idea of mosses.  And from Miles’ book, he wrote, “To slow down ever so slightly, realising that a story needs purpose, and purpose is built on the everyday and ordinary, is harder than it sounds given there’s so much of it… [This means that] smaller tales build within the bigger picture like muscle supported by bone.” (14)

All in all, the takeaways for this are to find something that can be therapeutic.  I chose reflecting in a journal to put some of the thoughts and feelings of my own education and years of educating into words; while contrasting that with my time in the outdoors.  Events and experiences that you have lived through are not the end all, but they are building blocks - in all their facets of being good, bad, or indifferent.

Oh, and remember to smile with your eyes open for that “First Day Of School” picture; wherever that may be and no matter what particular moment you are actually capturing.  There’s a story behind that snapshot.  I’ll remember that next week when I gather with my colleague-friends at the retiree breakfast.  Say Cheese!

See you along The Way…

The Last Graduation Speech Of Prairie Hill School

The Setting Sun Over Prairie Hill School

In 2009 I was honored to be able to give the last speech in what had been a kindergarten through 8th grade school for the previous 50 years.  After that year, our district became two schools; Prairie Hill School became a K-4th grade school (now including pre-K as well), and Willowbrook Middle School was built for the 5th-8th grade students.  It has been ten years now since I gave that speech. I didn't have any outdoor adventures in this month of May, so I will post that speech here in my blog.  The words are symbolic, ironic, and paint a picture of who we are as a district.  

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Prairie Hill’s 2009 Eighth Grade Graduation Speech

Our History and Identity through Change

I am honored to be speaking to you this evening; the Prairie Hill class of 2009.

I am intrigued by words and the ways they can be used to bring meaning.  Sometimes though, when I speak or write, I enjoy communicating in parables where others have to figure out what I mean.  The students here will tell you that I like to challenge them to figure things out for themselves.  I may give them a similar problem to a question, to model a process, or tell them a story or make up an example, but I’ll never give them a straight answer.  What fun would that be?  This world needs more thinkers and here at Prairie Hill we “crank out” our fair share of them.  It usually follows along these lines:

“Mr. Rhines, I don’t get this?” 

“Funny, I don’t get it either, but after you sweat & bleed trying to work it out, I can help you with it.  When you struggle at it, then I know it means something to you.”

How cool is it when you’re leading a student, who figures something out on their own, and all you had to do was guide them…as opposed to using a cattle prod.  Whether it’s breaking a full court press to get the ball down to the other basket, learning how to simplify a fraction problem through cross reducing, inferring what happens in a food web when the leopard frog is eliminated, or how to deal with friends who suddenly aren’t getting along, we call this coaching, instructing and teaching.  Of course this is all under the guise of change.  Change is the one thing that is constant through life and the better we adapt to it the easier life is.  That is not to say it is easier in the sense that we don’t have to worry about conflict, it just means we can deal with it better when it comes.  Being a thinker helps us deal with change.

Someday, inscribed as an epitaph on my gravestone will be the words “See you along The Way”.  It has become my mantra of sorts because I’m on a “Life Journey” and I might as well see what I can learn and who I can positively influence along The Way; amidst God’s mercy and grace and life’s changes.

As we honor these 8^th grade graduates and think about the way they’ve changed over the years, let’s first talk about change itself.  Once upon a time, but not that long ago, this area along the Rock River valley was occupied by various Native American tribes who both hunted and farmed the land in established communities.  Some of the tribes who called this area home were the Lakota-Sioux, the Ho Chunk-Winnebago and the Illiniwek.  Later as eastern woodland tribes were pushed westward by the arrival of the white Europeans on the Atlantic shores, our area also saw the Ottawa, Kickapoo, Miami, Potawatomi, Ojibwe and the combined Sac/Fox tribes.  This land right here was surrendered through trickery by one band of the Sac/Fox tribe in the treaty of 1804.  Due to the US’s involvement in the War of 1812, however, the Native Americans were not forced west of the Mississippi River as the treaty stated.  Illinois became a state in 1818 but even at that time, two-thirds of the state was still occupied by Native American tribes.  Talk about change!

On May 9^th, 1832 some Sac/Fox Indians attacked a small trading post and settlement called Bird’s Grove that was located at the mouth of our very own Dry Run Creek as it entered the Rock River where Hononegah Forest Preserve is now located.  This is the creek that flows under the crossroads just down here at Willowbrook and Prairie Hill Roads.  I know that creek as my friend and coaching partner, Louie Gugliuzza, and I set out to kayak home to Rockford by this route last spring.  After reaching the preserve muddy, mosquito bitten, and exhausted…there’s a gazillion log jams between here and there…we had to abandon the expedition as darkness kept us off the big river.  It was cool knowing we were paddling historic waters, however, and you’ll be happy to know we are finishing that voyage this next week.  Anyway, the trading post that was attacked was owned by a fur trader named Stephen Mack.  Sound familiar?  You know; he’s the husband of Hononegah.  That’s right, we had them first! : )  The Sac/Fox Indians captured Mack and several of his workers while burning down his post.  Luckily for Steven Mack some friendly members of the Winnebago tribe arrived in time to save him.  This was the beginnings of the Blackhawk War that eventually led to US soldiers chasing Chief Blackhawk and 2,000 of his people who were trying to regain their lands, up along the Rock River to the north and on to the Wisconsin River.  They would eventually be attacked, and most of them were killed, as they tried crossing the Mississippi River back into Iowa north of Prairie du Chien.  Blackhawk was captured and Stephen Mack rebuilt his trading post at the mouth of the Pecatonica River near present day Rockton.  Talk about change!  The story of this change is both tragic and amazing, and a lot of it began right here in our community.

You may be wondering what this has to do with the 2009 graduates.  Well, following 1832 and the removal of Native Americans from this land, the area opened up to white settlement.  The first school of our area was established in 1840.  School was held at the “Old Log Inn” near the corner of what is now Prairie Hill and Pleasant Valley Roads (near the cemetery).  A few years later another small, one room school house was built just south of this site on Pinnacle Hill.  It was known as the Old Stone School and was used until 1881 when some land was donated just west of that location down on the prairie.  The new location also proved tempting as it was closer to the water in our creek.  A new school was soon built and was known as the Nichols School.  In 1949 the Nichols School, along with the nearby White and Hayward one room school houses, were sold to make money for a newer consolidated school building.  This new school was opened in 1952.  Yahoo!  Unfortunately, in 1958 the Illinois State Highway Commission notified the area residents that the new school was directly in the way of the planned (I-90) toll way.  The board of education accepted an offer from the state and built a newer Prairie Hill School that opened in 1959 just north of the Willowbrook and Prairie Hill intersection where we are today.  It had four rooms (where Mr. Zdeb, Mrs. Wyatt, Mrs. Furmanek and Miss Long currently are) and a small gym/cafeteria which is where our band and music rooms are now.  In 1968 they added 5 more classrooms around the corner to Mrs. Andrew’s and Mrs. Froman's rooms.  In 1975 they added this Bob Clothier Gymnasium here, the kitchen which is our current concession stand, and our locker rooms.  In 1979 they added the junior high hallway from Mr. Rogers’ room down to Mrs. Hand’s room.  In 1996 the new offices, library, all-purpose room and classrooms from Mrs. Ciciora’s room down to Mrs. Hill’s room were added.  The last addition to this beloved building was in 2002 when they added the section which included the west side bathrooms, around to Mrs. Forsythe’s room including the art room.

It doesn’t seem possible but I’ve been at Prairie Hill for 20 years now.  When I began teaching here in the fall of 1989, it was the first time the fifth grade consisted of two classrooms.  Prairie Hill only had 277 students at that time.  Now we have 3 to 4 classes per grade and 716 students.  We are the picture of change.

            I used to explain to family and friends that Prairie Hill was like a private-public school.  It had high standards in its beginning and continues to do so.  Prairie Hill has an “Old School” climate and expectations with “New School” methods.  When I started teaching in 1989, I was closer to the students in age than I was to the nearest teacher.  My wife, Cindy, was hired 2 years later as the Junior High English teacher and taught here for 6 years before our son Todd and later our daughter Jodi were born.  The changes in staff over the years reflect the district and where we are today.  Once upon a time and over the years our staff has been (Are you ready for this?): Allen, Altoff, Bainter, Baylor, Bell, Brusven, Burns, Courtright, Conkling, DeRoos, Eversole, Fleury, Freedlund, Geiger, Goers, Grimes, Gugliuzza, Gurnett, Hammond, Hanson, Heckle, Hellbusch, Herro, Hodowanic, Hooper, Johnson, Kaletsch, Landin, Lewis, London, Maloney, Miller, Miner, Pizzoloto, Redisi, Rhines, Schafman, Schnabel, Shillington, Shippee, Short, Smirnov, Sole, Strothoff, and Zika (all without classroom aids).  We’ve had Mr. Fenrick, Mr. Finlen and Mrs. Hobson as administrators.  Some of these staff member were only here a short time and others spent their entire working lives in this building.  These graduates sitting here right now have what they have because of these people I’ve mentioned.  For you see, indirect influence directly affects the next generation of teachers, staff and students through the standards set and the legacy left.  The Prairie Hill Blue Devil tradition is bigger than ourselves.  Now our school is being led by Anderson, Andrews, Ball, Booth, Burk, Butson, Carroll, Christofferson, Colwell, Coomer, Davenport, Duda [Books], Eibergen, Forsythe, Froman, Furmanek, Gregoire, Grygiel, Hall, Hand, Hatfield, Hill (who’s dad and uncle used to ice skate down Dry Run Creek as students just to get to this school), Houghton, Johnson (squared), Jorgensen, Julian, Keilback [Stallman], Kraus, Lee, Leonard, Long [Rogers], Matthewson, Michowski, Noorlag, O’Conner, Pickel, Rayment, Reynolds, Rogers, Sage, Sand, Stubbe, Wagner, Wallyn, Wickline, Williams, Wyatt, Zdeb and 24 paraprofessional, lunchroom aids and cooks…  Just to name a few.  Our administrators are Mr. Rehl, Mr. Michowski and Mr. Heiar.  That’s quite a list.  That’s a lot of people who directly invest in the students of Prairie Hill School…your children.  That’s quite a change from the days of a one room school house!         

            Those of you who are still tracking with me probably noticed that I purposely left out a few teachers.  See, I’ve always got you thinking!  In this case, you’re wondering “Why?”  I left out those who I’ve team-taught with over the years in fifth grade.  For my first three years I taught with Mrs. Jury who had been here for twenty some years herself before she retired.  She had been a nun and taught in a Catholic School (once with a class close to 50 students) before coming here to Prairie Hill.  She was classic “Old School”, and I’m better having taught with her.  For one year I taught with Mrs. Ciciora before she went to first grade.  I had already taught and coached both of her sons by that time and respected both her and her expectations.  For the last sixteen years Mrs. Partlow and I have taught together.  We watch out for each other and finish each other’s sentences.  She is a “gift giver” and people appreciate that.  For the last ten years (8 of those in the fifth grade) I’ve also taught with Mrs. McIlwain when we went to three classes.  She has an easy laugh, is a scheduling magician and has the gift of leadership.  Together Mrs. Partlow, Mrs. McIlwain and I along with our teacher’s aide, Miss Sheriff, have become a great team – blending our different talents through each year’s changes.  We take our students from point A to point B by the end of the school year and have them ready for junior high…if the parents and students just stick with us long enough…even if we have to drag them along kicking and screaming (I’m talking about the students there, not necessarily the parents : ).  Nobody ever said change was easy.

            But wait Mr. Rhines you’re saying to yourself…there’s more.  You missed a few teachers.  Oh yeah, that’s right.  How could I forget?  I’m glad you reminded me.  I’ve jokingly said that once you make it into the top five on the seniority list you should be eligible for early retirement, but in reality I love what I do and wouldn’t want to change that…even at this point in the year with the students figuratively bouncing of the walls.  Each class and group of students is different.  Similarities exist but each is unique and that’s the challenge.  Four teachers, who have been here at ole PHS for more years than me, know that better than anybody.  Mrs. Titterton has been here for 34 years teaching fourth grade along with other grades in years past.  She has many good stories of Prairie Hill’s changes.  Mr. Thorpe has been here for 32 years doing an excellent job teaching P.E., and is both respected and adaptable to all kinds of situations put upon him.  Mrs. Olstead, our speech teacher, has been here for 24.3 years and has taught in everything from a classroom to a broom closet, wherever there was space that particular year.  Mrs. Norris, one of our kindergarten teachers, starts off this whole educational process that leads up to the 8^th grade graduation.  She has been here for 19+ years.  For these teachers to invest this many years it takes fortitude, a lot of prayer, patience and a love for what you do.  Let’s give it up for those teachers!  They have seen a lot of change here at Prairie Hill over the years.  All professions require time and effort.  To do them well you need a passion for what you do.  With teaching you also add in your heart and life.

            And so if you’re struggling to keep pace, the theme is “Change.”  We’ve covered the beginning of time, when moccasined feet walked our prairies, to the middle era where the community changed and grew and modernized, to the present.  Think of the things that have changed that we as adults probably don’t even realized or pay attention to.  When I started we still clapped erasers for the chalkboards, and you could still show films on reel to reel movie projectors…and that was only twenty years ago.  Does anyone out there still remember the Apple II computers and Basic programming?

Graduates, along life’s journey you will encounter a lot of changes.  Some changes will be good, and some will be difficult.  Some changes will be the result of your decisions.  Some changes you have no control over what-so-ever.  The Prairie Hill community has grown and changed and expanded.  Next year we will birth a new school into our district.  I’m choosing to liken it to what I used to say about our Prairie Hill JV & Varsity basketball teams, “Two squads, One team.”  Next year Prairie Hill will be “Two schools, One district.”  How cool is it that this year’s graduates end their Prairie Hill experience as the last class to go through the first 9 years of their schooling under one roof?  That is almost never heard of anymore!

            Parents, when you think of your little sons and daughters now sitting up here in their gowns; teachers, when you remember this particular class in the midst of the many that you will have in your careers; students, when you reflect back looking at pictures and videos and talking with friends, remember that change was the one constant.  Change is the one thing that happens hour by hour, day by day, and year by year.  Without change there is no adventure and there is no excitement.  Life without change can become mundane, stressful and boring.  Although it can be argued that too much change could do the same thing, I think the key component is to remember the traditions, and see the bigger picture that got you to where you are at.  That’s what I’ve had to learn along life’s Way.  Listen, I’m a Northern Michigan boy transplanted into Illinois…so I’ve had to learn this area’s history and hopefully you have a small grasp of it now too.  The Native American Lakota tribe had a saying that said, “A people without history, is like wind on the buffalo grass.”  We need to make sure we put worthiness and respect into the changes and history that our community and students have been a part of. 

            As you prepare for Hononegah, or the high school of your choosing, embrace the change.  It’s not always easy, but it’s definitely interesting.  Graduates, remember the quote I gave you in fifth grade that said, “Pony Up!”  I think I was miss-quoted by a few of you in this year’s yearbook as you thought it was, “Suck it up.”  I probably did say that from time to time, but wanting to take a positive spin on the whole concept I said, “Pony Up” more often.  In other words, as you move on from Prairie Hill it’s time to climb into that saddle, take a deep breath and begin riding.  That’s when you begin living.  As I’ve said before, that’s not always easy.  Life is tough.  Change is tough, but history shows us that who we are and what we do becomes our destiny.  Let me say that again.  History shows us that who we are and what we do becomes our destiny.  Thank you graduates for the experiences and memories that you have left us with over these past nine years.  Carry the tools, concepts, and the Prairie Hill tradition of working hard that we’ve instilled in you so that you can deal with changes along life’s journey and we’ll see you… along The Way.

Mike Rhines

5^th Grade – Prairie Hill Teacher

6-2-09

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PHS In The Mid 1990's - One Portable In The Back

PHS With Two Portables Prior To The Elementary Wing That Was Added In 1996. Between The Original Four Room School That Was Built In 1959, And 1996, There Had Been Three Previous Additions.  Notice In The Upper Left Hand Corner That The Willowbrook North Subdivision Hadn't Been Added Yet.

Rockford Register Star - Friday, June 19, 2009

Life Of A Prairie

“A people without history,

is like wind on the buffalo grass.”

-An old Lakota saying

This is a blog entry that will be pretty self explanatory.  Pictures and captions will tell the story beyond what I write.  The prairie on the hill was reestablished in the summer of 2009.  It’s a prairie next to (and a part of) Willowbrook Middle School, which is one of two schools in the Prairie Hill School District - and just off of Prairie Hill Road.  That part makes sense.  Of course there is a story behind a few of those names, as there are to most names, that might not seem to make sense; but I’ll refrain from going into detail on all of that just now to protect the (semi) innocent.  Let's just say that Prairie Hill School is on Willowbrook Road and Willowbrook Middle School is on Prairie Hill Road.  The prairie on the hill, however, is legitimate, noteworthy, and fitting.  Two hundred years ago this seven acre, tall grass prairie was the norm of the Midwest and Central Plains, before it was plowed under for agricultural use. 

In the fall of 2011 my teaching colleague, Cindy Froman, and I started Willowbrook Middle School’s environmental club.  The name of the club became Servo Terra (Protect the Earth).  One of the first endeavors for Cindy and I was to have the fledgling club name a few of the surrounding areas.  The prairie was put to a vote and named “Bird’s Grove Prairie.”  “Bird’s Grove” came from the name of a trading post built by Stephen Mack.  He was one of our area's first pioneers.  In the early 1830’s his original trading post was located at the mouth of Dry Run Creek as it entered the Rock River.  Dry Run Creek winds through our very own school district, albeit several miles upstream from the mouth.  Later, Stephen Mack would have to move to what would become Pecatonic/Macktown (across from present day Rockton), due to an attack that burned down his trading post at Bird’s Grove.  That attack, which was at the beginning of the Black Hawk War, nearly cost him his life.  For those who live in Northern Winnebago County, you know that Stephen Mack’s wife was Hononegah; a Winnebago/Ho-Chunk Native American whose name became that of our local high school.

The second area that our club named was the seasonal pond that lies up on the top of Bird’s Grove Prairie next to our school.  It was voted on to be named “Odonata Pond.”  Odonata is a taxonomy grouping for insects that are carnivorous, such as the dragonfly.  Several species of dragonflies are a common site throughout the warmer months, as they zip over the grasses catching and eating various flies and mosquitoes.

An 1827 Oil Painting by American Artist Alvin Fisher
Entitled "The Prairie On Fire"
Picture taken at the Chicago Art Institute Dec 2016

            Our prairie was mowed for the first couple of years as the plants threw down their long roots.  Native plants grow down into the soil 15 feet or more.  It’s no wonder that we have erosion problems in our present day and age when you compare this to our blue grass lawns that only grow roots about 4 inches in depth.  Once the native plants began taking hold, we planned our first fire burn during the spring of 2014.  The South Beloit Fire Department rose to the occasion, using the controlled burn for a training exercise.  As Mrs. Froman and I watched that first year, one local neighbor and one school family joined us.  Two years later in 2016 we burned again, and a few more from the community came to watch.  This year, 2017, saw families with children of all ages attend the prairie burn (some kids complete in their firemen costumes).  Many people even brought their chairs and blankets to watch the burn while eating their dinner picnic style.

Bird’s Grove Prairie is still in its infancy, but compared to the prairies that once covered our region, its history goes back to a time that is now only a whisper.  That whisper, barely audible, is carried on the winds that sway the grasses of the prairie; those same grasses that once supported the vast herds of bison that called this area home long before us.  It’s a history that now can be set to pictures and videos.

See you along The Way…

2014

Cindy Froman and I after the First Burn

2016

Window Reflection

Panorama

Odonata Pond

After the Burn

A Video of the 2016 Burn

The sunset on the prairie during a Servo Terra cookout

Late May 2016

A deer running into the prairie - July 2016

An October 2016 sunrise

November 2016

Sunlight through the Bluestem

2017

February 2017

April 12, 2017 - Before the Burn

End of the Line

The Smoldering Remains

A Video of the 2017 Burn