Hoping to hit the teacher jackpot

Because life offers so few big surprises.

Because it's the one stroke of fate that can make all the difference.

Because it's 2 o'clock on a sunny afternoon, and they just left the Smurfs movie on one of the final days of summer vacation, and Mrs. Mulligan thought it would be fun to swing by school. And even though they'll find out later at open house tonight, the suspense is killing them now!

So the four little blond boys, two Blechas and two Mulligans, rush to the glass doors of Ronald Reagan Elementary School on Omaha's western edge to find their names among almost 700 children and learn the answer to the $64,000 question: Who is my teacher?

The question is as old as a two-room schoolhouse. It carries particular weight for young children who spend most of their school day with a single teacher. Will she be soft or stern? Will he be fun or firm? Will I be with my friends or alone?

Unlike the August rite of passage that involves picking out new folders and trying on new tennis shoes, this one rarely offers choice. It's Teacher Roulette, a child's first exposure to the seeming randomness of life, one of the many buck-up-and-deal-with-it lessons that will come in handy in the future.

Some school districts, like Westside, invite parental input, believing that children succeed when they're well-planted. Parents are welcome to ask for Mrs. So-and-So or request that Johnny gets placed with his friend Bob or that Susie is not in the same classroom as arch-enemy Jane. Parents get only one request. Few parents ask.

Other districts such as Omaha and Millard also weigh the requests of parents with all the other demands that go into the art and science of matching students with teachers.

All schools strive to create a balanced learning environment with an even split in gender and, often, in ability.

At the ever-growing Ronald Reagan, Millard's largest of its 25 elementary schools, suggestions from the previous year's teacher, a child's individual traits and the needs of the whole group go into the mix.

"It's easier than one might think," said Principal Nila Nielsen. "We know our children; we know our teachers. We've had some pretty good success of finding really good matches."

On the rare occasions when a parent asks for a specific teacher, Nielsen counters: What traits are you looking for?

Once an assignment is made, it's hard to undo. Nielsen asks for the opportunity to see if the match works. Most of the time, she said, fear and preconceptions disappear after the first few days "when their child falls in love with their teacher."

Schools differ in how they reveal the big news. Some inform students in May about their classrooms in August. But most take the summer to decide who goes where, preferring the flexibility to move students around and accommodate last-minute changes. And so letters go out. Open houses are held. And at Ronald Reagan, there's The Posting of the List.

The school sits on 198th Avenue, east of the highway that links Gretna to Elkhorn and south of the major letter street, F. It's hidden inside a subdivision of homes so new they're still under construction. The building abuts a cornfield and the few rail-thin trees on its campus are like the many neighborhood children: young.

At Ronald Reagan, workers Scotch-taped the computer sheets of names to the front doors on Monday afternoon last week, several hours before the school's open house and two days before the start of school. Given the school's size and the area's growth — it opened in 2007 and already has a portable classroom — there are six kindergartens. Six first grades. Six second grades. Six third grades. Five fourths. Four fifths.

The class rosters become a sea of names. Trendy names like Bradyn, Kenden and Scottlynd. Oldy-fashiony names like Emma, Greta and Owen. Faithful standbys like Adam, Alexander and Ben. Last names as first names: Carson, Riley and Reese. There's a Reegan attending Reagan. And a Reagan, in kindergarten.

People rush to the names and point to them, photograph them with smart phones, echo them in the happy voices of fist-pumping yesses and sing them in the cheerful way of Mothers Who Try to Boost Crushed Spirits.

"Your name is right here!" a mother gushes to her son. "You have Mrs. McMillan! She is soooo nice!"

"Mrs. Hellbusch used to be Miss Oddo. She's awesome! My Jack had her," a mother says.

"All the teachers here are amazing," another mother chimes in. "They really are."

Up to the door come our heroes, the Blecha and Mulligan boys. Colin Blecha and buddy Jack Mulligan are entering third grade. Their kid brothers, Sam Blecha and Josh Mulligan, are going into kindergarten.

Colin stretches his arm up the glass and finds his name at the top of an alphabetical class list. His teacher is Ms. Foster. He doesn't know this yet, but he just hit the jackpot.

Jack, saddened that he didn't get the rare species in elementary education, a male teacher, was buoyed by names of friends on his class roster.

Colin announces that little Josh is "soooo lucky" he got Miss Sobota. But teacher names carry little meaning for the soon-to-be-kindergartners. They stand quiet and big-eyed, taking in the wisdom of the older brothers and Mrs. Mulligan, who pronounces that there is "not a bad teacher here."

The Blecha boys return later for open house with their mom, Halle, their dad, Paul, and their baby sister, Morgan, who marches importantly into Reagan wearing her backpack, though she won't grace a classroom for another few years.

The family moves easily through the crowded halls to find Sam's kindergarten room, where a young Mrs. Ellsworth greets him warmly. They find Sam's name on a table with six chairs. They find Sam's name on the birthday chart. They drop off his school supplies. Halle signs up for the class email list.

"Would you remind me," Halle says to her husband, "I need to get him a paint shirt?"

They leave and Mrs. Ellsworth tells Sam, "Bye, sweetheart. See you Wednesday!"

The Blechas next search for Colin's classroom, downstairs and around the corner. On the dry-erase board are a number of instructions for students and one note for parents: "Your precious children will be my 25th homeroom class."

Textbooks fill cubbies. A thick informational packet awaits each student. They learn there's only one recess.

"Brace yourself," Ms. Foster tells Colin and his family with a big smile. "Third grade is everything new. But don't worry. I have three children. I have two grandchildren. I know how to wiggle-wiggle."

Colin beams.

Because he's excited for school. Because this place looks fun. Because he got Ms. Foster.

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