The Little Schoolhouse

That's what Grandma used to call the Fleming School which was located on Grand River just outside of Howell (well it was, it was burned down two weeks ago). The little schoolhouse.

Grandma MacDonald loved that little one-room school, she served on the board, keeping the school in working order so that elementary school children from all over could visit and spend a whole day learning in the classroom there. I remember her spending long hours typing notes on the typewriter from the meetings, or making lunches to take so the volunteers could spend the day cleaning, getting ready for the kids to come visit.

Mostly I remember how much she cared about this place, this little building on the side of the road that, blink and you'd miss it, most people wouldn't think twice about. I wish I had asked her more about the project, why she cared so much, invested so much time and energy into the schoolhouse. But I didn't. Back then, I was in high school and she was busy. She did things, didn't just talk about them. She took action. She swept the floors and bought the pencils and loved hearing about friends' children who got to take a field trip with their class to Fleming School.

The day mom emailed me to tell me about the fire, I was crushed. Grandma would have been so sad to know that the school was no longer. I'm glad this didn't happen on her watch. On her watch, the little schoolhouse flourished. And we're all a bit better off for that.