The House that Built Me
Today is the last day of school at Orient-Macksburg Community Schools. Ever. After years of declining enrollment, the school closes its doors and the district will cease to be.
I grew up in a small town. Smaller than I think even John Mellencamp’s Small Town…and yes, my parents live in that same small town. :) Rather than give you a run-down of the district’s history that I’m not entirely sure of - our long & narrow district comprised 2 towns and 3 townships prior to my existence - and later (during my late high school years) added another. Even with this consolidation, my graduating class of 33 was one of the largest in the past 25 years. In 1987, KCCI (a local Des Moines station) ran a feature about small schools wondering when a little guy like Orient-Macksburg would close its doors. I was a 1st grader! …and I thought it was VERY cool that a film crew was in our classroom capturing our ‘around the world’ math flashcards. For those unfamiliar, one person is “it” and stands behind another student’s chair, and the teacher stands at the front of the room with a math problem on it (like 2+2 or 2*4) - and the first person who answers correctly advances to the next student’s chair. If you lose, you sit in the chair. I loved it. The segment closed with a shot of our class and the line about “the math adding up.”
So…38 years ago - schools like Orient were folding up. Times were tough in the 80s…but our school proved tougher. Our current school board president, Jana Scott, wrote about her thoughts & feelings serving on the board for the past several years. She has done a marvelous job navigating these waters - though it certainly wasn’t one she wanted.
Ours.
That’s one of the special things about a small town - and a small school…it never leaves you; and you never leave it. Here I am, nearly 30 years out of high school, still calling it “our school board.” Indeed, I’ve felt more in the loop with what’s happening in the Orient-Macksburg school system than in any of the towns/cities I’ve lived in. Like I said, it’s just part of being from a small town.
I wanted to write a dedication to those walls that are an essential part of my childhood…but I’m not sure I can. It’s like trying to tell your mom or dad how much they mean to you. They are so essential, so integral, that you can’t fully capture it.
The elementary addition was built in 1978 - right before I was born. Starting kindergarten there, it was still new. I can still picture the set up of our kindergarten classroom, with stations toward the front for reading & art, stations in the back for play - like a kitchen set up…and one of my lifelong friends sitting behind me, trading crayons. I learned my first lesson about failing in that room…the first day of school, we learned about opposites. I cut out and pasted the opposites and proudly walked it up to my teacher, Mrs. Doran. She promptly told me that I needed to color it; I did it wrong. I told her that I didn’t remember her saying that we needed to color it, and she told me that you always color it in, even if she doesn’t say it. So - lesson 2 - always color it in, and pay attention for hidden directions. …and lesson 3: don’t cry. I choked back the tears that day, lest I cry in front of my peers.
…and somehow, 13 years & 9 months later, I had no fear of crying in front of my peers anymore. My last day of school, I purposed to touch every lintel of every doorpost of the 3 flights of stairs in the high school…I don’t know why - just one last opportunity to touch those walls that gave me so much. …on graduation day, I was a sobbing mess, barely holding back the tears as we processed in, sang our graduation song, and gave my graduation speech.
How can you sum up a small-town educational experience? …essentially, it’s a lesson in mattering. Every teacher knew our name. I knew the name of every classmate - first, middle, and last, and their date of birth. Whether you belonged or not, you were known. …and being known is the first element of mattering. To matter means that someone not only knows of you - but, you matter to them. They want to know you; they want to see you grow and improve. I never doubted that I mattered to any of my teachers at Orient-Macksburg. I may not have always liked them…but, I knew that they cared about me.
Here’s the other important part of mattering: you know you’re essential. Even if that means the basketball team can’t play without you because you make up the full team — you are essential. One of the bad raps about cities is that they are designed for the masses - not the individuals. It’s easy to dissociate from the responsibility to make a city work because “little you” has no connection to the decisions being made. It’s so easy to take on the role of object — a force being acted upon by those higher up or outside yourself. …in a small school, you’re a Subject. You are essential to a project happening. You have an idea; you carry it out. You are NHS President, President of the 4-H Club, FFA Sentinel, Student Council Rep - you wear many hats and you learn that you have the power to effect change. Your voice matters. Your ideas matter. Your effort matters. You not only matter; you’re essential. This is the lesson we all need to learn.
In addition to mattering, you learn in a small town that you belong to something bigger than yourself. There is a community supporting your efforts. Whether it’s the basketball game, the musical or the FFA banquet, the community turned out to each event to support their Bulldogs. This is an aspect of belonging that I’ve sought out in my adult years…and, to be honest, it feels impossible to attain. The school was the heart of the O-M community (one community though two towns); and it is…magical.
Mattering and being essential are key aspects of belonging. …and, this is the greatest gift Orient-Macksburg gave me. A place to belong…and people to belong to. …a place and a people are key aspects of home. Those walls were our second home. How fortunate am I to be able to feel safe in every part of that school - that I mattered to the teachers in each classroom, that I had space to learn, explore, succeed, and fail…and that I could do it all alongside FRIENDS. The best of friends…friends who stick with you through your weird teenage years and beyond…who make you laugh over ‘scoops of fun’ at the lunch table, who go along with your cheers for Beatlemania and Parli-Pro, who made it so hard to say good-bye to a place…and who help you through each chapter of your life after.
Orient-Macksburg, thank you will never say it all.
To my teachers: Mrs. Doran, Mrs. Henderson, Mrs. Brown, Mrs. Kuyper, Mrs. Herr, Mrs. Thompson, Mrs. Ford, Mrs. Bauer, Mr. Tussey, Mr. McLauglin, Miss Avazian, Mrs. Nielsen, Mr. Shallenberger, Mr. Dunlevy, Mr. Scott, Mrs. Burgmaier, Mrs. Amdor, Mr. Huntington, Mrs. Bissell, Mrs. Woodside, Mrs. Hepburn, Mr. Brown, Mr. Hansen, Mrs. Hogan, Mrs. Taylor, Mrs. Kniep, Mrs. Piper, Mr. Phelps, Mr. Hansen, Mr. Lane, Mrs. Leonard…thank you. Thank you for giving your time and talents and expertise to the field of teaching. You definitely could’ve made more money somewhere else - but your impact on eternity would be far diminished. You created spaces safe for learning, for failing, and for succeeding. You taught us to persevere and not give up. You taught us life lessons and life skills…and I’m so thankful for your yes.
On ye Bulldogs….
‘98 Kix (1)
