Think back to your very first classroom: the smell of crayons, the tiny chairs, the teacher who knelt to your level and called you by name. For many of us, kindergarten wasn’t just the start of school; it was the beginning of learning how to be in the world. For over two decades, Nancy Stansberry was that first teacher for hundreds of children in McLean, Virginia — and her impact has rippled far beyond the classroom walls.
Stansberry’s path to the classroom wasn’t direct. After an unhappy stint as a secretary, she returned to college with her mother’s encouragement and a deep-rooted love of working with children—one sparked by years of caring for her nieces and nephews, orchestrating impromptu plays, and reading stories aloud. That calling eventually led her to Spring Hill Elementary, where her work would impact not just generations of children but an entire community.
Her teaching philosophy was simple but profound: children thrive when they feel secure, seen, and empowered. “You have to have independence and responsibility,” she says, recalling the back-to-school nights where she encouraged parents to give their five-year-olds real choices and meaningful tasks. “The little decisions they make now equip them for the big decisions they’ll make later.”
That emphasis on capability often surprised parents. “They don’t realize how responsible five-year-olds can be,” Stansberry explained. “Let them choose their snacks. Let them help plan the weekend. The more jobs they have, the more responsible they become.”
Her classroom wasn’t just about learning letters and numbers—it was about building little humans. Each morning began with a choice: a handshake, a high-five, or a hug. “Because I never wanted to hug a child who didn’t want to be hugged,” she said. It wasn’t just a greeting—it was a message: you matter here.
Kindergarten, for Stansberry, was a place of structure and joy. “I loved them to death, but I also helped them maintain the rules,” she says with a laugh. Her legendary Kindergarten Extravaganza — a full-scale stage production that involved all 60 students in songs, lines, and dances — wasn’t just about performance. It was a rite of passage. “I still have former students come up to me and say, ‘I was Chubby Checker, and my line was…’” she remembered with a smile. “They never forget.”
Parents didn’t forget either. In one particularly moving moment, she received a hand-delivered letter from a former student, who now has a kindergartener of his own, who had just come from his own child’s first parent-teacher conference. “He wrote to thank me,” she says, her voice full of emotion. “He said, ‘I thought of you and how important you were to my life.’”
In these stories, you can hear echoes of Robert Fulghum’s All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten. Stansberry never quotes the book, but she lives by similar principles: Share. Say you’re sorry. Hold hands when you cross the street. Her classroom was the proving ground for those life lessons, offered up gently but consistently, from someone who saw each child not just as a student, but as a person.
Her legacy lives on, not only in the parents who once sat on her rug but in their children now entering kindergarten themselves. “It’s thrilling,” she says, “to be remembered as someone who helped someone feel loved, safe, and capable.”
Even after retirement, Stansberry continues to be woven into the community fabric. “My heart just swells,” she says when former students approach her. One parent, whose child had struggled in another school, credits Stansberry with turning things around. “He still says, ‘You saved my life,’” she recalls, thinking about how other teachers she knows really are our childhood superheroes.
Of course, it wasn’t always easy. Navigating different learning styles, managing high parental expectations, and maintaining high-energy days with five year-olds required not just skill, but soul. But Stansberry never wavered, all while being a mother to her own children whom she’s now immensely proud of and close to.
Nancy Stansberry's career proves that the best teachers aren’t just educators—they’re community builders, memory makers, and lifelong influencers. And if you ask her, the most important lessons are still the same: Be kind. Take responsibility. Work together.
After all, everything you really need to know, you probably learned in a classroom like hers.
Nancy Stansberry's legacy lives on, not only in the parents who once sat on her rug but in their children now entering kindergarten themselves. “It’s thrilling,” she says, “to be remembered as someone who helped someone feel loved, safe, and capable.”