PHILADELPHIA -- In suit and tie, with briefcase in hand, Frank Korcz arrived on the steps of A.S. Jenks School in South Philadelphia at 6:45 a.m. one recent morning. He tried the door. Still locked.
Once again, Korcz was the first at Jenks to show up for work.
He's a first-year teacher, fresh out of education school and eager to make a good impression.
He's also 77, the oldest classroom teacher in the 200,000-student Philadelphia School District.
At an age when most people prefer to set their own schedule, Korcz leaves his home in the Northeast in the dark and travels an hour and a half by bus and subway to pursue his new career, that of a second-grade teacher.
Bored with retirement and driven by a lifelong love for learning, Korcz traded in quiet days at home for school days filled with lesson plans, classroom rules, and a world of literature very different from when he was in second grade.
While state Department of Education officials had no data on whether Korcz is the oldest beginning teacher in Pennsylvania, they concede he's a rarity.
"So what? I'm that old," Korcz said with a smile. "I think I'm smart enough." And when it comes to rules, he's from the old school -- a stickler, indeed.
Oldest guy in class
It wasn't until Korcz was 74 -- eight years after retiring from a 41-year career in broadcasting -- that he decided to become a teacher. In May, he received his master's degree in education from St. Joseph's University.
"It wasn't an easy thing, because I was the oldest guy in the class, and I saw all those 20-year-olds."
Korcz's arrival at Jenks, a K-4 school, has been the marvel of many.
And, it has caused others concern: Can an older man, who acknowledges that he is "computer illiterate," keep up with the active minds and bodies of little children? Jenks' principal, along with Korcz's mentor and the president of the parents' organization, say he can.
"He's enthusiastic. He comes in and asks loads of questions. It's amazing," said Patricia Flowers, a veteran teacher who mentors Korcz. "At 77, I think I want to be on a beach." Korcz, a native of Reading, Pa., who has spent most of his life in Philadelphia, started out as an actor in New York, but quickly found it didn't pay.
After odd jobs, he went into broadcasting, including a stint as a projectionist for "The Mike Douglas Show." After retirement, he earned a master's degree in pastoral theology. A year later, he was bored again.
Taking up teaching
He read about the school district looking for people with bachelor's degrees to become "literacy interns" and work in elementary classrooms.
In thinking back on his own experience as a student, he could recall only one teacher who provided inspiration, a biology professor. He set out to do the same.
After three years as an intern at Creighton School, Korcz was ready for his own classroom. A job offer came from Jenks, which is on the other side of the city from his home.
He loves the job, so far.
"The only thing is, I'm still trying to figure out: How do you make little girls stop talking." His only peeve at this point? "If you're a teacher and you have 31 kids, you can't go to the bathroom," he said.
As a result, he doesn't drink coffee at school. He doesn't eat lunch, either. He survives all day on a glass of milk, vitamins and blood pressure medication. He rubbed his slightly rounded belly to show he's not starving.
Nor does he lack energy. For a math lesson, he moved up and down the aisles, pointing at students and firing addition problems. If one didn't answer, his finger moved to the next until he got the right answer.
He spends about three hours extra daily to prepare lessons.
"I'm busy Saturday, Sunday. I didn't even watch the Eagles game," he said.
Life lessons
In the classroom, Korcz instructs his students on the importance of attending college and approaching life with a steely resolve.
"If they knock you down, you brush off your knees and you go ahead. If you make a mistake, you correct it," he tells them.
Korcz recently made a math mistake on the blackboard while the principal was observing his class. A student raised her hand and corrected him. He thanked her and moved on.
Korcz's second-graders find his age unremarkable. Not one of six students brought it up when asked about Korcz.
Cecily Giancaterino came closest: "My mom-mom says he looks like my pop-pop," she said, referring to her grandfather. Once, she called him pop-pop, and a teacher's aide tried to quiet her. Korcz didn't mind.
"He said, 'Come on up, granddaughter,'" the girl recalled. Korcz calls Cecily "my little performer," because she likes to address the class.
Student Desiree Colangelo said she first thought Korcz would be mean, "because he's a man. I only had women before. But now that I got to know him, I think he's very nice." Armando Legarreta agreed that he's nice most of the time. "But you don't want to see him when he gets angry. It's big-time ugly." While at times stern, Korcz also is affectionate. He rubbed Armando's head one morning, encouraging him to finish his work.
Soon, he'll have to spend time learning how to use a computer to input student grades.
Korcz isn't sure how long this career will last: "I'll be 78 on Jan. 19. I'll go year by year."
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