MEMPHIS, Tenn. -- On Jordan Morgan's first day of preschool, her new teacher misspelled her name.

The child was quick with a correction. Her name ends with "-an," not "-on," the gangly, blond-haired child informed.

"You put two 'o's. That's not my name," she said with a toothy grin.

Jordan had just turned 4 when her parents enrolled her in Our Lady of Sorrows preschool in Frayser.

But the learning started way before that.

When Jordan was born, her mom, Rebecca, joined a children's book club that delivered four books a week. When she wasn't piled on mom or dad's lap with a Winnie the Pooh book, Jordan made up stories to go with the pictures on her own. She was soaking up her ABCs before she could walk.

Her father, Phillip, a plumber, replaced the little plastic animals on her walker with letters.

When Jordan was 2-1/2, Rebecca put a purple crayon in her hand and they made letters together.

J-O-R-D-A-N

Now 5, she can write her middle and last names, though sometimes she gets the c backwards in Nicole. She knows 1 plus 1 equals 2, and counts on her fingers all the way up to 5 plus 5 equals 10.

She uses words like "actually" and "concentrate" and analyzes all the different shades of pink — magenta is a favorite — when she's coloring on the living room floor.

"I want her to be in the first grade and read on a fifth-grade level," said Rebecca, 26.

The Morgans, like most folks, can't tell you about the latest wave of brain research that affirms the most critical learning time in a kid's life is at the beginning. For Rebecca that knowledge is intuitive.

"I'm a firm believer that children's brains are sponges. Teach them, teach them, teach them," Rebecca said. "They will absorb it."

Both of Jordan's parents are voracious readers.

Rebecca wants Jordan to love books like she does. She wants her to have that thrill you get when you just have to know what's going to happen on the next page, when a book is so good you take it everywhere you go, even to the bathroom.

"Your children are going to pick up on that and it's going to make them love to read," Rebecca said.

Phillip and Rebecca didn't go to college, but they are certain Jordan's going.

"Daddy said she's going even if he has to work four jobs to get it done," Rebecca said.

College has long been in the plan.

While Phillip was installing the faucets on an addition at Lausanne Collegiate School, a pre-kindergarten-through-12th grade prep schools, he kept thinking of the child in his wife's womb. He wanted his offspring to go to this school and picked up a packet of information, though the tuition seemed way out of reach.

Phillip, 27, was bored in high school, ended up getting into trouble and dropping out. Now he's armed with a GED and some community college plumbing classes. The money's good — when there's steady work.

Jordan already says she wants to be a doctor: "That way I can fix children."

At school she learned about jobs that grownups do, but right now she's more interested in the letter Z.

Early one morning in March, Jordan climbed onto a Lilliputian-sized chair in front of the chalkboard before her preschool class, scratching out the letter Z like an old pro.

"Yay, Jordan! Give her a big hand!" teacher Lynda Gann told the class. Everybody got a turn and a cheer before singing: "Big Z, little z, zah zah zah."

Preschoolers at Our Lady of Sorrows spend a week on each letter, working on activities no more than 15 minutes at a time to combat short attention spans.

Jordan and her classmates practice their Zs and learn about words that start with Z, like zebra and zero and zoo, coloring corresponding pictures next to the words.

When they enter kindergarten, kids know all their letters, upper and lower case. They can write their names and many can count as high as 30.

The 4-year-olds also are learning about word families, writing "ap" words like cap, nap and lap.

In math, they sort toys by ones, twos and threes and study their shapes.

Gann makes learning a game. "They love to learn, and they don't even know they're doing it," she said.

There's still plenty of play, and that's when Jordan and her pals practice hanging from their knees on the monkey bars.

Dad takes Jordan to school at 7 a.m. each day and Mom picks her up after work around 3:30 p.m. When kindergarten starts in the fall, she'll have the school schedule down pat.

Sometimes kids get teary when they get picked up — they're having too much fun to go home. Jordan wears a resigned face when mom shows up. At least she'll get to poke the buttons on the stereo in the Monte Carlo on the way home. She just has to listen to numbers 6, 7 and 11 on Keith Urban's "The Golden Road" CD, using her number skills without even realizing it.

And on the ride home Mom quizzes Jordan on school stuff.

Since the kids study a letter a week, Rebecca usually waits until Wednesday or Thursday. With the letter U, Jordan is up to the test.

"What starts with U?" Mom asked.

"Umbrella."

"Not over, but?"

"Under."

"Not down, but?"

"Up"

Sometimes Rebecca asks Jordan to tell her how to get home, and she's learning to say "turn right" instead of "turn that way."

At home, Jordan fiddles with her blond pigtails and shows a visitor her favorite book of the moment: "Amy and the Special Snowflakes." She excitedly explains the book's plot, hopping on the dresser to gather it and the rest of her bound treasures. She knows she's not supposed to get on the furniture.

"Don't tell mom I got on the dresser. It's just between you and me," Jordan said, motioning a closed mouth. "Zip it. Zah zah zah."

Aimee Edmondson is a reporter for The Commercial Appeal in Memphis, Tenn. Contact her at 901-529-2733 or edmondson@gomemphis.com.)