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Rosenwald Schools

By Marie Craig

Many of the African American schools constructed in North Carolina in the 1920s were built using the Rosenwald Fund. Established by Sears Roebuck president, Julius Rosenwald, the fund provided plans for school buildings oto meet a community’s specific needs, and required the local school district to pay for part of the construction. Rosenwald supplied seed money, about 7.5% of the total cost, and the residents, white and black, raised the rest of the expenses. North Carolina’s first Rosenwald School was built in Chowan County. The state eventually became home to 813 Rosenwald Schools, of which 26 were in Mecklenburg County.  Davie County had two Rosenwald Schools built in 1925 – a brick school on Campbell Road in Mocksville and a wooden building in North Cooleemee. Neither building still exists.  In other areas, surviving Rosenwald Schools have been revived and showcased as museums to that time period.

The Rosenwald School that was built on Campbell Road in 1925 cost $20,000.  Information and the photograph came from Fisk University in Nashville, Tenn., that compiles information about these schools.  It was a six teacher school on two acres of land. There are two ways you can see evidence of it. As you slowly drive down and around the curve on what is now renamed Martin Luther King Jr. Road, look at the end of the existing building. It does not contain right angle corners. That is where the buildings joined together in an oblique angle because of the hillside. The second way is to download Google Earth app to your computer (not tablet).  Find this location using their maps feature. Then at the top of the screen, look for an icon that looks like an alarm clock with an arrow around the top. Use your mouse to slide left to the date 2/1993 and you will have an aerial view of the Rosenwald school.  It also shows on the date 3/1998, but the first one is clearer. On 10/2005, the school was gone. The latitude/longitude of the school is 35.906, -80.553. You can type these numbers into the search blank.  If you’ve watched any of the old H. Lee Waters silent films of Davie County, you’ve seen the school and some of the students. In the book “History of Davie County Schools” which I compiled in 2010, you’ll see a photograph of the students on page 154.  [These books are for sale at the library.]  On pages 155-157, Mrs. Magdalene Dulin Gaither, student and teacher, describes the history of this school which has changed names and functions through the years.

The North Cooleemee Rosenwald School was located on Neely Road, on the northwest side of Friendship Baptist Church. It was a wooden, two-teacher school that cost $4,397 located on two acres.

The brick school that replaced it still survives adjacently.  I was told by Genelle Watkins in a phone interview in 2010 that the Rosenwald School was moved in 1952 to nearby Hickory Street where it became a community center and when no longer usable, was burned by the fire department as a training exercise. Using Google Earth to go back in time doesn’t seem to work in this case, since I don’t know where it was moved. The first GPS was 1985, and it’s very blurry.  But the original location’s L/L was 35.818, -80.552.  Photograph of this school is from the Cooleemee Historical Association.

Musings

By Gaye Hoots

Must wonder, is it me? This morning, I ordered coffee online. It was a great Labor Day deal, but it took me about 30 minutes. My address was stored incorrectly and when I entered a correction it still had the old info showing. It also had my credit card with an expiration date of 2027 showing in their records but marked expired. After numerous attempts, I made the corrections and got confirmation of my order.

I should have known to quit while I was ahead but instead attempted to check my credit card account to see if the charge was posted. My password was stored and showing but it would not take it and I did not remember it. After several attempts, I finally got a code to reset my password. When I entered it, the message said I could not use my previous password which it had just said was incorrect. Giving up for now to focus on something more positive.

I was luckier with my driving skills. A deer leaped toward the side of my car, and I managed to miss it, or it managed to miss me. The next day I stopped for 2 deer standing in the road near my home. One still had spots and they expect you to stop, take their time crossing, and stand on the roadside as you drive by.

There is music coming from across the road where each year a neighbor hosts a Pirate Jam from his dock. Boats come from this area to listen to the music and a crowd gathers in the backyard here. The twins enjoyed it last year. I can hear it by opening my door. The hotdog vendor that I like will be downtown for supper. Last night businesses in Oriental had live music. This little town sponsors several festivals each year.

Last weekend featured the Dragon Boat races from River Dunes, a clip is on my Facebook page and our boat won by a nose. My upstairs neighbors are part of the crew, and they practice on the water in front of my condo. Several businesses sponsored the Pirate Jam and if you spent $100 they give a flag. I asked the clerk at a lawyer who was a sponsor for a copy of a receipt to present to collect a flag. Her response was, “We do not give receipts, you are the one getting paid, not us.” I asked if they did not receive payment for their services and she replied that they did and it was in the closing statement. I asked for a copy of the page showing the payment amount and she complied. That got me the flag, which I gave to a neighbor who collects them. Glad I don’t have to negotiate any high-dollar deals as my skills or comprehension seem to be slipping.

I plan to return to Advance before our class reunion on Sept. 21, which the Junkers are graciously hosting again. I said goodbye to Leo, a close friend who was 92 but try to catch up with friends when in town and visit a couple of friends who are in care facilities. It is hard to lose those we love, but I focus on quality time with those of us here and my younger family members.

Our youngest, Mia, is three months old and still in NICU. She may be able to come home when her weight is up to 12 pounds, but her weight is just under 7 pounds so it will be a while, and Tiffany will not be able to return to work until Mia is home. This is a stressful time for them financially and emotionally. We are praying for miracles but the most that is medically feasible is for Mia to leave the hospital to come home. There is currently no treatment for Titinopathy. We are praying that she will gain weight now that she has had surgery, and they will be home soon.

Above and Beyond: Mr. B

Mr. Boerum. I’ll never forget him. Coal black hair brushed back from his face, though a tendril often seemed to escape by the end of the day and fall over his forehead, his personal rebellious streak, I always thought. Deep brown eyes that glinted with amusement when he pranked us, a small half-smile curling his lips. Always in a dark suit and tie, pristine white shirt. I adored him.

I’d never met anyone like him, a true renaissance man. Smart – brilliant even. Sharp. Kind. Funny. Demanding. Unapologetic. A stern taskmaster. Innovative. Creative. Compassionate. I loved him with all my ten-year-old heart.

Used to a standard 25 pupil elementary classroom in Florida, I was unprepared for this step back in time, this rural four room schoolhouse. I was thrilled beyond belief to be there, but change always requires adaptation, and going from a school with about one hundred fourth graders to a school with six fifth graders was quite an adjustment. My classroom hosted grades five and six. The other upstairs room shared third and fourth, and the other three grades were downstairs.

I can still picture the school as if it stood before me now. The building, a majestic lady dressed in white with black trim, the dual staircases curving gracefully up on each side of the massive front door, the gleaming wooden floors pockmarked and dented from years of schoolchildren and teachers, the floor boards creaking under the memories of generations of students, the banisters practically begging children to slide down them, and then the entrance to my classroom, my personal nirvana where education was an adventure, a challenge, a joy – all because of Mr. Boerum.

I can equally remember my first day as the new kid, an unenviable position for any child. In my favor, I had always wanted to move permanently to this lovely hamlet on Eastern Long Island, the place I called home regardless of where we lived, so I was thrilled when that dream came true, so being the new kid was a small price to pay. But I was shy and self-conscious, and therefore scared.

The fifth graders faced the door, with the sixth on the other side of the room, so when I passed through the door, I was facing my classmates, Bernadette, Janet, Judy Ann, Peter, and Billy, a class of five, now to become six. Mr. B, as we were allowed to call him, introduced me and led me to my seat, then, with a smile and a wink, he left me to settle in. It was that half-smile and wink that helped me – that implication that we shared a secret, that he might be THE Teacher, but more importantly, he would be MY teacher. I instinctively knew I could trust him.

And so, the adventure of a lifetime began. Mr. B taught with enthusiasm unmatched. I’d always been a good student, but under Mr. B, I thrived.

Beyond the curriculum, however, was the greater reason for my hero worship. He saw me. He saw this shy, quiet girl and gently pushed me even while protecting me. One day in December, he came to my desk, and, without a word, led me outside. Silently, he pointed to the sky and watched me experience my first snow. He knew I wouldn’t want my classmates to witness my exuberance, my awe, as I marveled at the tiny flakes first floating lazily down from gray clouds, then falling harder and faster as the storm grew closer.

I closed my eyes and turned my face to the sky. I felt the icy crystals as they landed on my face and dusted my eyelashes. I caught them on my tongue and marveled as others succumbed to gravity and collected on the ground. For maybe ten minutes we stood, I, entranced by the snow, Mr. B enchanted by my joy as I experienced this first without the jaded eyes of classmates to dilute my experience with self-consciousness. He gave me a gift that day, solitude with no shadows to mar the day, only joy. Thank you, Mr. B. You went above and beyond to see me.

We can all be Mr. B’s. Instead of mocking or ridiculing, we can be that person who sees others struggle and puts forth the effort to make their lives a bit easier, to make their world a bit kinder.