Voters consider future of Washington state's oldest school

They do things a little differently on the prairies of eastern Washington.

Up a winding gravel road lined with small farms and sprawling pastures lies the small school district of Orchard Prairie, atop an isolated hill northeast of Spokane, boasting the oldest operating school in the state.

The two-school district with the prairie dog mascot spans less than 10 square miles and serves 78 children in kindergarten through seventh grade. Older students learn in a 1970s building that shares the grassy campus with the district’s original school, built in 1894, still occupied by younger students.

Orchard Prairie’s size allows schools to operate differently than others, with more students: grades sharing classes, teachers customizing grading patterns based on children’s abilities, a full school break that lends itself to a lot of age mixing.

“We are unique,” said school board member Naomi Lathrum. “We have small classes. We have a real family feel here; everyone knows everyone. The bigger school districts have really great programs and curriculum, but you also have thousands of students and you kind of get lost in that and cliques form. You don’t have that here.”

Smiling portraits of each student are stapled to the walls and the children form close relationships with the twelve staff who run the two schools. Turkeys roam the gravel parking lot where students remind visitors to watch out for their droppings.

It’s all happening in a building that, while loaded with the charm of a small school, Lathrum worries is not up to state standards for school facilities.

“We observe certain standards to provide facilities that meet a certain code,” Lathrum said. “If we don’t do that, then the state could come and say, ‘You are no longer fit to house students here.’ At that point, we would probably be absorbed by some neighboring district and then lose control of this community.”

While there is no imminent threat of closure or consolidation into a larger district, building a new modern school would provide more space and alleviate anxiety surrounding its future. The new building would replace the 1970s-era structure; the historic school would remain in operation.

To finance this construction, the district is seeking approval of a $6.2 million bond from 60 percent of the roughly 500 voters who live there.

If approved, the bond would tax property owners at an estimated rate of $2.21 per thousand of assessed property value, adding to a tax rate that is charged between 91 cents and $1.22 per thousand, fluctuating based on home values. The bond would be paid off in 30 years.

District employees’ dream school would be built behind the century-old school. It would be large enough for all classes and an infirmary, reception, a single entrance for security, a multipurpose room, an interventional room, all absent from the existing facilities.

“It’s just enough to house our essential needs, meaning our classroom space, cafeteria and administrative space,” said school board President Katelyn Schuler, who also works as a counselor at the schools. “It’s kind of bare bones, nothing sophisticated or flashy. It’s exactly what we need and nothing more.”

They would demolish the obsolete 1970s school, but they wouldn’t dare touch the old 1894 icon.

“It’s kind of a beacon, a community icon that holds a special place in a lot of people’s hearts, so we’re doing what we can to preserve that,” Lathrum said, fondly remembering playing on the school playground in the summer. while visiting her grandparents in the home she now owns with her husband.

The district is in the process of placing the original school on the Spokane County Historic Register after making numerous repairs and cosmetic improvements to return it to its turn-of-the-century glory.

It used to be a one-room school in the truest sense of the word, although at one point the district built a wall that now divides the kindergarten classroom and one shared by first- and second-graders.

From the vertical windows to the gabled roof crowned by a small bell tower, the old school is a true time capsule shortly after Washington’s statehood in 1889 and the incorporation of Spokane in 1881.

The 130-year-old bell still rings twice a year, and its sound is audible across the prairie. It is a tradition for each kindergartner to announce their educational career on the first day and call again on the last day of seventh grade.

“It was very loud. My mom and dad heard it, and my grandmother and dad heard it too,” said kindergartener Blondelle Frank, a third-generation prairie dog who lives on the prairie with her family.

Nearby locations provide a family-friendly school but have limited space. Every corner of the old school is used: every surface in the classrooms is covered with books and toys, crates of school supplies line the hallway, also occupied by pots of paint and a skeleton model. Kindergarten teacher Kirsten Schierman built a closet in the bathroom of her old school where she keeps extra supplies and souvenirs from the school’s past.

She scours estate sales for historical artifacts of prairie life: classic children’s books and class photos from the 1960s. A teacher there for 27 years, her most prized souvenirs date back decades to her time at the school.

While renovating parts of the old school, she found samples of paper art and writing from her former students, a cursive practice sheet with a date and time stamp of April 24, 1922. A reminder of a questionable yet common practice In the old days, she still has the original school paddle used to punish disobedient students. One of the prairie farmers did this, drilling holes in the wood so that it would whistle during use.

The historic nature of his classroom was not lost on Schierman.

“It’s a great honor,” she said, describing a mix of obligation, inspiration and veneration of the history that oozes from the walls of her classroom.

“I feel the presence of learning here,” Schierman said. “You can’t be in a 19th-century building without knowing that all that time was spent on children learning.”

Ironically, it is the most recent building, built in 1972, that has “reached the end of its useful life,” said Joseph Beckford, the school’s superintendent and principal.

The two-story, flat-roofed building is as cramped as its neighboring sibling. Upon entering, visitors are faced with a “reception,” a table in the hallway outside the two classrooms.

Students always pack their lunches, the small kitchen in the basement cafeteria cannot accommodate hot school lunches.

“We need a bigger cafeteria because it gets really loud, really fast,” said seventh-grader Rilyn Six, describing having to shout over the school-wide clamor with her best friend Maddy Weeks, both prairie dogs from infancy.

Instead of a nursery, children seek treatment in the corner of the intervention room, behind a partition, next to two small rooms used for Beckford’s office and Schuler’s private counseling room.

“I think a lot of times people are surprised by just the lack of space,” Schuler said. “When we have substitutes and they come here for the first time, we kind of show them around; they are caught off guard.”

A new school would give students and staff room to stretch their legs and make it compliant with modern standards, such as the Americans with Disabilities Act seismic codes. It would be cheaper to build a new school than update the current building, school board members said.

A new school would also address the school board’s concern that Orchard Prairie could be absorbed into a neighboring district if facilities do not meet state standards. While not an imminent threat, Lathrum has concerns.

“I think if we don’t make improvements to school facilities, if we don’t come together as a community and commit to investing in making improvements that are needed here, we will lose what we have,” Lathrum said. . “We are going to lose control of our community. We’re going to lose control of our children’s education here, and I don’t want that.”

The state has consolidated one school district over the past 40 years. The former Vader School District in Lewis County, which served about 50 students, closed in 2007 due to financial problems. Voters in his district repeatedly voted against the fees and, as the final nail in the coffin, did not approve a bond to resolve a soon-to-be-condemned school. Students there were absorbed into the neighboring Castle Rock school district.

District officials are hopeful that their tight-knit prairie community can muster the high 60% support needed to approve the bond and build their new school, although they recognize that the farmer-owned acreage in their district could create a high burden. tax for owners.

“It’s not about the building; That’s not why people come to school here. This is not why these parents invest time and energy in taking their children to school every day. It’s not because of our incredible library that we don’t have it. It’s not because of this beautiful carpet or the fluorescent lights,” Lathrom said. “It’s because of the people who work here and the community that sends their children to school here. That’s why they come and they deserve a good school.”

___

Visit The Spokesman-Review (Spokane, Washington) at www.spokesman.com

Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.