To close out the millennium, Minnesota Public Radio's All Things Considered presents a look back at Minnesota life in 1900 via a 12-part series, entitled “A Minnesota Century.” This segment is the the story of Rhoda Emery, a young woman who thought she would never make it as a schoolteacher, but ended up dedicating 50 years to the profession.
At the end of the 19th century, one of the few occupations open to young women was teaching in one of the one-room schoolhouses that dotted the landscape of rural Minnesota. Alone on the prairie, and often away from their families for the first time, many teachers struggled to last through grueling months of loneliness, discouragement, exhaustion and the persistent problem of finding and keeping a teaching position.
This is the eighth of twelve reports.
Click links below for other reports in series:
part 1: https://archive.mpr.org/stories/1999/01/25/a-minnesota-century-sugar-point
part 2: https://archive.mpr.org/stories/1999/02/23/a-minnesota-century-predictions
part 3: https://archive.mpr.org/stories/1999/03/29/a-minnesota-century-lincoln-fey
part 4: https://archive.mpr.org/stories/1999/04/26/a-minnesota-century-the-road-to-bagley
part 5: https://archive.mpr.org/stories/1999/05/31/a-minnesota-century-mining-the-north
part 6: https://archive.mpr.org/stories/1999/06/21/a-minnesota-century-eva-mcdonald
part 7: https://archive.mpr.org/stories/1999/07/26/a-minnesota-century-the-mayo-brothers
part 9: https://archive.mpr.org/stories/1999/09/27/a-minnesota-century-maud-hart-lovelace
part 10: https://archive.mpr.org/stories/1999/10/28/a-minnesota-century-the-story-of-cole-younger
part 11: https://archive.mpr.org/stories/1999/11/29/a-minnesota-century-fredrick-lamar-mcghee-an-early-leader
part 12: https://archive.mpr.org/stories/1999/12/27/a-minnesota-century-news-100-years-ago
Awarded:
2000 The Gracie Allen Award, Radio - Outstanding News Story/Series category
Transcripts
text | pdf |
[MUSIC PLAYING] It's All Things Considered on Minnesota Public Radio. I'm Lorna Benson. At the end of the 19th century, one of the few occupations open to young women was teaching in one-room schoolhouses that dotted the landscape of rural Minnesota. Alone on the prairie and often away from their families for the first time, many teachers struggled to last through grueling months of loneliness, discouragement, exhaustion, and the persistent problem of finding and keeping a teaching position. This month in our Minnesota Century series, the story of Rhoda Emery, a young woman who thought she would never make it as a schoolteacher, but ended up dedicating 50 years to the profession.
RHODA EMERY: The first day of school is over, and I, for one, am not sorry. I feel as lame as an old plow horse tonight. My back has ached all day, and I have been dreadfully cross. I don't know if I shall ever like school teaching.
LORNA BENSON: 15 students showed up for Rhoda Emery's first day as a school teacher in Mazeppa Township North of Rochester. It was late October 1889, and Rhoda was only 17. Some of her students may have been just a year younger. At the time, rural teachers were only required to complete eighth grade and pass a state examination. Rhoda's parents lived on a farm in the next Township over, but her school was far enough away that she was only able to travel home on the weekends. During her first year, Rhoda was fighting off homesickness as she pleaded with her students to learn their lessons. She described the daily struggle in her diary.
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RHODA EMERY: October 29, I am just about as tired as I could be tonight. Everything has gone wrong today. I have felt nervous and cross. The scholars have missed some lessons, and I was obliged to punish them by making them stand in front of the class. It made Cora cry. I was very sorry for her, but did not relent. She took all her books home to night and declared that she wouldn't miss any more lessons.
LORNA BENSON: School days were divided into 15-minute intervals, during which groups of students recited their lessons for the teacher until she was satisfied that they had memorized the material. Students who didn't master their lessons faced scoldings, public humiliation, or in the worst cases, a whipping. Rhoda, though, usually opted for a more gentle approach to discipline.
RHODA EMERY: November 21, today has been a pretty hard one. I guess I am just finding out what precious raw metal I have to work with. I made Henry spend most of his noon in the school house for throwing a snowball into the schoolroom.
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December 4t, I have been constantly on the lookout to keep George and Henry from fight. I don't know what the trouble was. But they have begun twice, and I've had to stop them and give all the boys a talking to this morning. I was so tired and discouraged and blue this noon that I couldn't eat a bit of dinner, and I don't feel much better now.
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December 5, as soon as I got to school this morning, those boys began to quarrel. I told them that I had said three times before, there should be no fighting, and three times, they had broken that rule. And if they attempted such a thing again, they should both take their books and go. But I felt pretty shaky concerning my power to do such a thing.
About the middle of the forenoon, there was a rap at the outside door in. Fearful visions of the superintendent passed through my mind. I found, instead, a rather oldish farmer who said he had heard that the large boys expected to have a fight that day. He told me to be on my guard, and if I had any trouble, he gave me to understand that the school board would support me. I felt jubilant then.
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At noon, I kept good watch of the two parties and soon saw them sneak off to the Brook by different directions. So I hurried down there. From the place where the boys were, it was impossible to see the path, so they did not know I was near until I stood right before them. But I could hear them disputing and swearing long before I came into sight. I inquired into the cause of the trouble, and they did not want to tell me.
At last, George said Charlie had told him that Henry said he could knock the stuffing all out of him. Then I ask what the original problem was, and both confessed that it was nothing at all. Thereupon George drew from his coat a long club about a half inch in diameter and threw it as far as he could. So peace was declared.
LORNA BENSON: On the last day of the winter term, several of the local villagers encouraged Rhoda to apply to teach at their school again. Although she was offered the position and promised to let the school board within a week, for some untold reason, the district hired a different teacher the day after she left for home. Disappointed, but in need of another teaching job, Rhoda began moving from one teaching position to another like many other rural school teachers at the turn of the century.
RHODA EMERY: April 15, well, here I am at Fifield's schoolhouse. I went over in February and got a contract for $24 a month. I think I shall like it here. There are some things about my pupils that are truly admirable. One is their kindness for one another. I don't believe I shall have any fights here.
[BACKGROUND NOISE]
April 16, today, went off very well. I think my pupils like me, and I like them too. This morning, my fire was built when I got here, I went out to carry in some wood, and one of the larger boys dropped his ball and brought in the wood himself. He said, you needn't bring in no wood. Just speak to us fellers when you want some, and we'll bring it. Not elegant, but I thought him very gentlemanly for all that.
LORNA BENSON: Many young women taught school for only a few years then married and raised families. But Rhoda never married, despite the attentions of a life-long suitor. When she was still a young woman, her mother scribbled her fears about her daughter's line of work across the back of an undated photograph.
SPEAKER: I've heard some simpletons say there was no real work in teaching. But I have been there, and I know it is most discouraging drudgery, and I hope my fair daughter shall stop. She is a good honest woman, but her dear face looks tired and old. And I think she shall give up the wear and tear of school teaching if I talk with her once more.
LORNA BENSON: Rhoda, however, seemed to sense the course of her life better than her mother did. In 1894, she wrote the following--
RHODA EMERY: February 1, only one more day of school, I am glad that I do not have to trudge over here with my dinner basket and little clock, but once more. I shall not be sorry to leave, though I wonder where I will teach next winter, for I suppose I shall always teach.
LORNA BENSON: Throughout the 20th century, the era of the one-room school house withered away as tiny rural school districts merged with one another. When Rhoda began teaching, there were over 8,000 school districts in Minnesota. The majority of which consisted of a single one room schoolhouse. But when she retired from her position as a Saint Paul school principal in 1940, new forms of transportation were putting these rural schools out of business. By the early 1970s, the last one room schoolhouses in Minnesota had disappeared altogether.
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To see pictures of Rhoda and one of her schools, visit our website at MPR.org. Our story on Rhoda Emery was written and researched by Rosemary Esber with research help from Suzanne Bunkers and Ted Lowe, produced by Annie Feidt, and edited by Stephen Smith.
Jennifer Paige read Rhoda's diary. Lynne Warfel Holt read the letter from Rhoda's mother. Rhoda's great-nephew, James Henry Wood, donated Rhoda's diary to the Minnesota Historical Society. The Minnesota Century Project on MPR is supported by Sarah Kinney Professional Real Estate Services, matching people with property for 21 years. Coldwell Banker/Burnet Crocus Hill Office.
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