I walked down the grass-filled cracked and broken sidewalk and looked sadly at the two remaining buildings, dilapidated and rotting away at the foundations. The year was 1987 and I had not walked this sidewalk for twenty-two years. Was I insane for feeling this deep sentiment and such a depth of sadness that I was feeling at that moment? I had left in 1965 and this was my first visit back to see an old friend that had sustained me for over eleven years; was always there for me; stood by me in good times and bad. A dear friend that taught me all I knew, listened to my complaints, allowed me to cry when I needed to cry. A friend that shared my happiness when I scored extra high on a test and my frustration when I just could not get the gist of some particularly hard problem. A friend that, I'm sure, felt my loneliness at being a ‘not-one-of-the-in-crowd'.
The tall grass had taken over the yards around both buildings. Windows that had once been boarded up were now broken and covered with graffiti. Shingles had blown from the roof and never been replaced. One building had once been a fine brick-sided construction twice as large as it was now. The other had been wood-frame with green trim, gleaming white and shiny in a noonday sun-a ghost of what had once stood proud and inviting. Long gone was the large building that sat in back along with the row of rooms that once had lined single file behind these two remaining buildings.
Even the once flourishing trees that had filled the yards were now only straggly bushes, rotted and dying. For twenty-two years I had lived and laughed, played and danced without so much as a single thought until this day that I had an old friend who was dying…..my school. I walked up the steps to the large wood-frame building and looked down at the broken padlock on the large double doors-my gymnasium. Inside it seemed so much smaller than I remembered. The ghosts of children playing basketball bounded down the court, dribbling the ball and shouting, "I'm open! Throw it to me!" Hands and arms that were all but invisible waving to each other, as I watched, misty eyed, in memories of years gone by. There was the post where I had nearly broken a finger when I ran into the wall chasing an out-of-bounds ball.
I had started first grade in this school and had graduated high school here in 1965. I'm not sure when the school was first opened; I remember rows of pictures framing graduating classes from as far back as 1932. Being a small country school-one of many-there had been no kindergarten or the pre-school that is so popular with the larger schools in this day and age.
In 1967 some governmental organization deemed it necessary to close all the smaller country schools; to cut back on the number of teachers needed to cover so many separate classrooms; to cut down on the number of buses needed to transport students around the tiny towns and consolidate to open newer, more modern, and larger educational facilities.
And so it was that my dear friend and mentor, Egypt Public School, closed its doors for the last time with the final graduating class of 1967. An era had died and who was there to attend the funeral. Not I. I had gone the way of probably everyone else in the name of progress-lock the doors and forget it ever existed. It along with many other small town schools consolidated and became the infamous West Side School of Jonesboro, Arkansas. Would history have changed if the small schools had stayed open; where the teacher/student ratio meant more guidance for each individual student and less fend-for-yourself tactics? Hindsight is twenty-twenty they say. In some cases that may be true, but who's to say that keeping our smaller schools open at greater expense may have saved the lives of several innocent students and teachers-food for thought or speculation only. We will never know.
In 1987 I took pictures and said my good-byes to what was left of my old alma mater.
Today I look at them with fond memories and no longer feel as sad when I think about the good times and good years I spent in those hallways so many years ago, but I will always think of it as a friend-a very old and helpful friend that helped me to become the person that I am. Many of us-while we're young and struggling for independence-don't realize just how much of an impact our schools and teachers will have on our lives. But once our futures are with us and not so much ahead of us, we take more time to think about where the credit lies. Education will always be your friend-even when you forget.
Sandra E. Graham, author, AMOS JAKEY and NICOLINA published by American Book Publishing. I also write book reviews for Book Pleasures. Visit my website for more info: http://www.sandragraham-articles-books.com
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