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Chapter VIII. Teaching School In A Stable And A Hen-House
I confess that what I saw during my month of travel and
investigation left me with a very heavy heart. The work to be
done in order to lift these people up seemed almost beyond
accomplishing. I was only one person, and it seemed to me that
the little effort which I could put forth could go such a short
distance toward bringing about results. I wondered if I could
accomplish anything, and if it were worth while for me to try.
Of one thing I felt more strongly convinced than ever, after
spending this month in seeing the actual life of the coloured
people, and that was that, in order to lift them up, something
must be done more than merely to imitate New England education as
it then existed. I saw more clearly than ever the wisdom of the
system which General Armstrong had inaugurated at Hampton. To
take the children of such people as I had been among for a month,
and each day give them a few hours of mere book education, I felt
would be almost a waste of time.
After consultation with the citizens of Tuskegee, I set July 4,
1881, as the day for the opening of the school in the little
shanty and church which had been secured for its accommodation.
The white people, as well as the coloured, were greatly
interested in the starting of the new school, and the opening day
was looked forward to with much earnest discussion. There were
not a few white people in the vicinity of Tuskegee who looked
with some disfavour upon the project. They questioned its value
to the coloured people, and had a fear that it might result in
bringing about trouble between the races. Some had the feeling
that in proportion as the Negro received education, in the same
proportion would his value decrease as an economic factor in the
state. These people feared the result of education would be that
the Negroes would leave the farms, and that it would be difficult
to secure them for domestic service.
The white people who questioned the wisdom of starting this new
school had in their minds pictures of what was called an educated
Negro, with a high hat, imitation gold eye-glasses, a showy
walking-stick, kid gloves, fancy boots, and what not--in a word,
a man who was determined to live by his wits. It was difficult
for these people to see how education would produce any other
kind of a coloured man.
In the midst of all the difficulties which I encountered in
getting the little school started, and since then through a
period of nineteen years, there are two men among all the many
friends of the school in Tuskegee upon whom I have depended
constantly for advice and guidance; and the success of the
undertaking is largely due to these men, from whom I have never
sought anything in vain. I mention them simply as types. One is a
white man and an ex-slaveholder, Mr. George W. Campbell; the
other is a black man and an ex-slave, Mr. Lewis Adams. These were
the men who wrote to General Armstrong for a teacher.
Mr. Campbell is a merchant and banker, and had had little
experience in dealing with matters pertaining to education. Mr.
Adams was a mechanic, and had learned the trades of shoemaking,
harness-making, and tinsmithing during the days of slavery. He
had never been to school a day in his life, but in some way he
had learned to read and write while a slave. From the first,
these two men saw clearly what my plan of education was,
sympathized with me, and supported me in every effort. In the
days which were darkest financially for the school, Mr. Campbell
was never appealed to when he was not willing to extend all the
aid in his power. I do not know two men, one an ex-slaveholder,
one an ex-slave, whose advice and judgment I would feel more like
following in everything which concerns the life and development
of the school at Tuskegee than those of these two men.
I have always felt that Mr. Adams, in a large degree, derived his
unusual power of mind from the training given his hands in the
process of mastering well three trades during the days of
slavery. If one goes to-day into any Southern town, and asks for
the leading and most reliable coloured man in the community, I
believe that in five cases out of ten he will be directed to a
Negro who learned a trade during the days of slavery.
On the morning that the school opened, thirty students reported
for admission. I was the only teacher. The students were about
equally divided between the sexes. Most of them lived in Macon
County, the county in which Tuskegee is situated, and of which it
is the county-seat. A great many more students wanted to enter
the school, but it had been decided to receive only those who
were above fifteen years of age, and who had previously received
some education. The greater part of the thirty were public-school
teachers, and some of them were nearly forty years of age. With
the teachers came some of their former pupils, and when they were
examined it was amusing to note that in several cases the pupil
entered a higher class than did his former teacher. It was also
interesting to note how many big books some of them had studied,
and how many high-sounding subjects some of them claimed to have
mastered. The bigger the book and the longer the name of the
subject, the prouder they felt of their accomplishment. Some had
studied Latin, and one or two Greek. This they thought entitled
them to special distinction.
In fact, one of the saddest things I saw during the month of
travel which I have described was a young man, who had attended
some high school, sitting down in a one-room cabin, with grease
on his clothing, filth all around him, and weeds in the yard and
garden, engaged in studying a French grammar.
The students who came first seemed to be fond of memorizing long
and complicated "rules" in grammar and mathematics, but had
little thought or knowledge of applying these rules to their
everyday affairs of their life. One subject which they liked to
talk about, and tell me that they had mastered, in arithmetic,
was "banking and discount," but I soon found out that neither
they nor almost any one in the neighbourhood in which they had
lived had ever had a bank account. In registering the names of
the students, I found that almost every one of them had one or
more middle initials. When I asked what the "J" stood for, in the
name of John J. Jones, it was explained to me that this was a
part of his "entitles." Most of the students wanted to get an
education because they thought it would enable them to earn more
money as school-teachers.
Notwithstanding what I have said about them in these respects, I
have never seen a more earnest and willing company of young men
and women than these students were. They were all willing to
learn the right thing as soon as it was shown them what was
right. I was determined to start them off on a solid and thorough
foundation, so far as their books were concerned. I soon learned
that most of them had the merest smattering of the high-sounding
things that they had studied. While they could locate the Desert
of Sahara or the capital of China on an artificial globe, I found
out that the girls could not locate the proper places for the
knives and forks on an actual dinner-table, or the places on
which the bread and meat should be set.
I had to summon a good deal of courage to take a student who had
been studying cube root and "banking and discount," and explain
to him that the wisest thing for him to do first was thoroughly
master the multiplication table.
The number of pupils increased each week, until by the end of the
first month there were nearly fifty. Many of them, however, said
that, as they could remain only for two or three months, they
wanted to enter a high class and get a diploma the first year if
possible.
At the end of the first six weeks a new and rare face entered the
school as a co-teacher. This was Miss Olivia A. Davidson, who
later became my wife. Miss Davidson was born in Ohio, and
received her preparatory education in the public schools of that
state. When little more than a girl, she heard of the need of
teachers in the South. She went to the state of Mississippi and
began teaching there. Later she taught in the city of Memphis.
While teaching in Mississippi, one of her pupils became ill with
smallpox. Every one in the community was so frightened that no
one would nurse the boy. Miss Davidson closed her school and
remained by the bedside of the boy night and day until he
recovered. While she was at her Ohio home on her vacation, the
worst epidemic of yellow fever broke out in Memphis, Tenn., that
perhaps has ever occurred in the South. When she heard of this,
she at once telegraphed the Mayor of Memphis, offering her
services as a yellow-fever nurse, although she had never had the
disease.
Miss Davidon's experience in the South showed her that the people
needed something more than mere book-learning. She heard of the
Hampton system of education, and decided that this was what she
wanted in order to prepare herself for better work in the South.
The attention of Mrs. Mary Hemenway, of Boston, was attracted to
her rare ability. Through Mrs. Hemenway's kindness and
generosity, Miss Davidson, after graduating at Hampton, received
an opportunity to complete a two years' course of training at the
Massachusetts State Normal School at Framingham.
Before she went to Framingham, some one suggested to Miss
Davidson that, since she was so very light in colour, she might
find it more comfortable not to be known as a coloured women in
this school in Massachusetts. She at once replied that under no
circumstances and for no considerations would she consent to
deceive any one in regard to her racial identity.
Soon after her graduation from the Framingham institution, Miss
Davidson came to Tuskegee, bringing into the school many valuable
and fresh ideas as to the best methods of teaching, as well as a
rare moral character and a life of unselfishness that I think has
seldom been equalled. No single individual did more toward laying
the foundations of the Tuskegee Institute so as to insure the
successful work that has been done there than Olivia A. Davidson.
Miss Davidson and I began consulting as to the future of the
school from the first. The students were making progress in
learning books and in development their minds; but it became
apparent at once that, if we were to make any permanent
impression upon those who had come to us for training we must do
something besides teach them mere books. The students had come
from homes where they had had no opportunities for lessons which
would teach them how to care for their bodies. With few
exceptions, the homes in Tuskegee in which the students boarded
were but little improvement upon those from which they had come.
We wanted to teach the students how to bathe; how to care for
their teeth and clothing. We wanted to teach them what to eat,
and how to eat it properly, and how to care for their rooms.
Aside from this, we wanted to give them such a practical
knowledge of some one industry, together with the spirit of
industry, thrift, and economy, that they would be sure of knowing
how to make a living after they had left us. We wanted to teach
them to study actual things instead of mere books alone.
We found that the most of our students came from the country
districts, where agriculture in some form or other was the main
dependence of the people. We learned that about eighty-five per
cent of the coloured people in the Gulf states depended upon
agriculture for their living. Since this was true, we wanted to
be careful not to education our students out of sympathy with
agricultural life, so that they would be attracted from the
country to the cities, and yield to the temptation of trying to
live by their wits. We wanted to give them such an education as
would fit a large proportion of them to be teachers, and at the
same time cause them to return to the plantation districts and
show the people there how to put new energy and new ideas into
farming, as well as into the intellectual and moral and religious
life of the people.
All these ideas and needs crowded themselves upon us with a
seriousness that seemed well-night overwhelming. What were we to
do? We had only the little old shanty and the abandoned church
which the good coloured people of the town of Tuskegee had kindly
loaned us for the accommodation of the classes. The number of
students was increasing daily. The more we saw of them, and the
more we travelled through the country districts, the more we saw
that our efforts were reaching, to only a partial degree, the
actual needs of the people whom we wanted to lift up through the
medium of the students whom we should education and send out as
leaders.
The more we talked with the students, who were then coming to us
from several parts of the state, the more we found that the chief
ambition among a large proportion of them was to get an education
so that they would not have to work any longer with their hands.
This is illustrated by a story told of a coloured man in Alabama,
who, one hot day in July, while he was at work in a cotton-field,
suddenly stopped, and, looking toward the skies, said: "O Lawd,
de cottom am so grassy, de work am so hard, and the sun am so hot
dat I b'lieve dis darky am called to preach!"
About three months after the opening of the school, and at the
time when we were in the greatest anxiety about our work, there
came into market for sale an old and abandoned plantation which
was situated about a mile from the town of Tuskegee. The mansion
house--or "big house," as it would have been called--which had
been occupied by the owners during slavery, had been burned.
After making a careful examination of the place, it seemed to be
just the location that we wanted in order to make our work
effective and permanent.
But how were we to get it? The price asked for it was very little
--only five hundred dollars--but we had no money, and we were
strangers in the town and had no credit. The owner of the land
agreed to let us occupy the place if we could make a payment of
two hundred and fifty dollars down, with the understanding that
the remaining two hundred and fifty dollars must be paid within a
year. Although five hundred dollars was cheap for the land, it
was a large sum when one did not have any part of it.
In the midst of the difficulty I summoned a great deal of courage
and wrote to my friend General J.F.B. Marshall, the Treasurer of
the Hampton Institute, putting the situation before him and
beseeching him to lend me the two hundred and fifty dollars on my
own personal responsibility. Within a few days a reply came to
the effect that he had no authority to lend me the money
belonging to the Hampton Institute, but that he would gladly lend
me the amount needed from his own personal funds.
I confess that the securing of this money in this way was a great
surprise to me, as well as a source of gratification. Up to that
time I never had had in my possession so much money as one
hundred dollars at a time, and the loan which I had asked General
Marshall for seemed a tremendously large sum to me. The fact of
my being responsible for the repaying of such a large amount of
money weighed very heavily upon me.
I lost no time in getting ready to move the school on to the new
farm. At the time we occupied the place there were standing upon
it a cabin, formerly used as a dining room, an old kitchen, a
stable, and an old hen-house. Within a few weeks we had all of
these structures in use. The stable was repaired and used as a
recitation-room, and very presently the hen-house was utilized
for the same purpose.
I recall that one morning, when I told an old coloured man who
lived near, and who sometimes helped me, that our school had
grown so large that it would be necessary for us to use the
hen-house for school purposes, and that I wanted him to help me
give it a thorough cleaning out the next day, he replied, in the
most earnest manner: "What you mean, boss? You sholy ain't gwine
clean out de hen-house in de day-time?"
Nearly all the work of getting the new location ready for school
purposes was done by the students after school was over in the
afternoon. As soon as we got the cabins in condition to be used,
I determined to clear up some land so that we could plant a crop.
When I explained my plan to the young men, I noticed that they
did not seem to take to it very kindly. It was hard for them to
see the connection between clearing land and an education.
Besides, many of them had been school-teachers, and they
questioned whether or not clearing land would be in keeping with
their dignity. In order to relieve them from any embarrassment,
each afternoon after school I took my axe and led the way to the
woods. When they saw that I was not afraid or ashamed to work,
they began to assist with more enthusiasm. We kept at the work
each afternoon, until we had cleared about twenty acres and had
planted a crop.
In the meantime Miss Davidson was devising plans to repay the
loan. Her first effort was made by holding festivals, or
"suppers." She made a personal canvass among the white and
coloured families in the town of Tuskegee, and got them to agree
to give something, like a cake, a chicken, bread, or pies, that
could be sold at the festival. Of course the coloured people were
glad to give anything that they could spare, but I want to add
that Miss Davidson did not apply to a single white family, so far
as I now remember, that failed to donate something; and in many
ways the white families showed their interested in the school.
Several of these festivals were held, and quite a little sum of
money was raised. A canvass was also made among the people of
both races for direct gifts of money, and most of those applied
to gave small sums. It was often pathetic to note the gifts of
the older coloured people, most of whom had spent their best days
in slavery. Sometimes they would give five cents, sometimes
twenty-five cents. Sometimes the contribution was a quilt, or a
quantity of sugarcane. I recall one old coloured women who was
about seventy years of age, who came to see me when we were
raising money to pay for the farm. She hobbled into the room
where I was, leaning on a cane. She was clad in rags; but they
were clean. She said: "Mr. Washin'ton, God knows I spent de bes'
days of my life in slavery. God knows I's ignorant an' poor;
but," she added, "I knows what you an' Miss Davidson is tryin' to
do. I knows you is tryin' to make better men an' better women for
de coloured race. I ain't got no money, but I wants you to take
dese six eggs, what I's been savin' up, an' I wants you to put
dese six eggs into the eddication of dese boys an' gals."
Since the work at Tuskegee started, it has been my privilege to
receive many gifts for the benefit of the institution, but never
any, I think, that touched me so deeply as this one.
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