THREE-GENERATION ONE-ROOM SCHOOLHOUSE

While cleaning out Mom and Dad’s house, we decided it was time to get rid of this. Burnell, my dad, made it out of a brick from the one-room school house he attended. He, his father, Carter, and his grandfather, Reuben, all attended this little school known as the “White School” of district #7 of the Elkport Township in Clayton County, Iowa. When the school was torn down, Dad took actual boards from the siding and a nail from it and put together this commemorative brick. That’s him pictured in front of the school (above).

I remember my grandma taking us mushroom hunting near the school when we were young. It was abandoned with windows broken out and so it looked rather foreboding. But Dad didn’t seem to be bothered by that. He would always proudly tell us that it was his country school when he was a boy. 

Why is it that kids have a hard time picturing their parents as children? My dad—a little boy? It was a weird concept to me. And the idea that he went to school in the dark ages in this humble little, one-room school with no indoor plumbing really blew my mind. I guess it made his childhood seem even more fictional to me.

Now as an adult, I still have a hard time thinking of him as a boy. But as I look at the picture I took of him holding the brick, I guess I can see the boyish twinkle in his eye. To him it seems only yesterday that he was a kid causing trouble at that quaint country school.

My dad (front) with his little brother and mom

Dad's baby picture

My grandpa as a boy

Three generations of Smith men went to school there. That’s a long way back. My grandfather, a little boy studying there—and his father before that. I never got to meet these men and I’m curious to know what they were like, especially when they were young students at school. What was their world like in the hills of Clayton County in those days? What did they hope for their future? 

Suddenly, I feel a surge of emotion. Though I didn’t even meet two of the three Smiths who went to this school, they a part of me. They are my ancestors. Now I am overwhelmed with a profound sense of gratitude for them, and for the life and values they gave to me. 

Though this one-room school house is long gone and the teachers and many of the students have died, I am now certain that its impact can still be felt.