Years ago, country schools dotted the landscape. I count myself as fortunate to have been a part of that scene for the first two years of my school life.The first school, which was actually an old house that had belonged to a recently deceased neighbor, was located on Wahkiacus Hill. No running water {apart from the creek which paralleled the school and babbled away delightfully}, no “facilities,” apart from the outhouse, and no refrigeration of any kind. Drinking water was brought in and stored in milk cans. Our heat source was an old wood stove and sunshine. A single light bulb hung from the ceiling providing light to study. There were six of us … two first graders, one third grader, one fifth grader {my brother} and one sixth grader. And of course, the schoolmarm, who just happened to be my mother, as much “Mrs.” to my brother and me as to the other pupils. Yes, this was a public school. It just happened to be tucked away in the boonies. It was visited at intervals by the Public School Superintendent.
The second school was huge. Well, okay, it just seemed huge. It was one fairly large room with an entry way where we could hang our coats and leave our lunch buckets. We would then go into the main room with its pot-bellied stove, which was the cause of more than one scorched coat as we huddled close to it seeking warmth on harsh Minnesota winter days. Once again, no running water, not even a creek to play in this time. Just a hand pump and a water dipper that we shared in common. There were also outhouses. Two of them. One for the boys. One for the girls. Major luxury. There were real desks with aisles between them and room for … well, maybe 10-12 pupils. And of course, the schoolmaster. In this case, a rotund bachelor who taught us to sew and quilt {think 4-H} as well as the more common subjects of reading, writing and arithmetic. The pupils ranged in age from 1st grade to 8th grade.
History aside, the concept of the country school came to mind the other night as I pondered on the Body of Christ. We assemble as congregations, in care groups, in prayer groups, in Bible studies, in different ways at different times. Aren’t we much like those old country schools? A variety of ages, degrees of maturity, and varying learning skills … gathered together to learn, encourage one another, help one another, affirm one another and fellowship with one another. The more knowledgeable helping the less knowledgeable while the schoolmarm/master busies himself with another pupil in a different part of the room. At times, the younger helping the older to memorize multiplication tables or learn spelling words with the help of flash cards. There was certainly a degree of humility required for that scenario.
Service, humility, teachability, sacrifice, working together … not preferring one above another, remembering we are all part of one body. We need each other. All of us. The 8th grader helping the 1st grader, the 1st grader helping the 3rd grader, and the whole classroom hearing, if they chose to listen, some of the wonder of what is to come as they advance in their subjects. Even, at times, working alone because you are the only one in your grade.
One head, many members. Something to ponder. Lots to learn.
