A Treasure in the Middle of Nowhere

Being built in the early 1800’s the Old Schoolhouse has its fair share of charm and character. Not only does it have timeless details and solid workmanship, it has history. Being a historical landmark of Kingsbury Plantation, the Campbell Schoolhouse has also been and continues to be a part of our family history.

To sit here, looking around, you see the marks in the wood floor where the desks were once bolted down. Perfectly spaced in rows. The chalkboards still on the walls, and the maps that showcase countries that no longer exist. Doors on the back wall leading to the attached double seated outhouses. One door for Girls. One door for Boys. A coat room, that at one time, had hooks every few inches down the wall. Many hooks at that. Then you look out the window to see nothing but blueberry fields and woods. Nothing. Not a house insight. To think that once upon a time, children attended school here.

Despite Kingsbury only having 20+ full time residents now, it was once a bustling town. Settlers began arriving in the early 1830’s. In 1836 Kingsbury was incorporated as a Town. We believe, by looking at maps, the Schoolhouse was built in or around 1837-38.

Jesse’s grandfather would have attended school here in the 1920’s. To think he was a scholar in a building, that 30+ years later, would be his and his family’s warmer weather getaway. 

I’ve come to the realization,  that most people who know where Kingsbury is, know the Old Schoolhouse. “The one that sits up in the Blueberry fields”, they say.  It has either been a meeting point for snowmobilers, they picked the fields as a teenager or they’ve seen it out on wheelers or moose looking. Or like us, had family that attended school here  or a relative that was the teacher. People we’ve never met have stopped, given us their familiarity of the place and we’ve given many a tour. We love seeing the expressions on their faces. The awe. It’s like stepping back in time. An era I’m pretty sure I once lived.

When entering the small enclosed porch, you feel almost claustrophobic. The low beadboard ceiling and beadboard walls feel like they’re encasing you. The porch is very small and tight. Enough room for….maybe two people at once. Shoulder to shoulder…or single file.  The door to enter the main part also swings out, so that makes it even more awkward, as the door you just came through swings in.  But once you step inside…..it’s something you rarely see and expect to see in the middle of nowhere. Ten foot tall tin ceilings, tin walls with wainscoting. A wall of windows. Large 6×4 windows that fill the room with natural light (and some natural fresh air too). For a building that has little to no insulation, the heat holds very well when you live in a tin can.

Then there’s the old coat room, turned galley kitchen. Another small awkward space. My favorite part, the cast iron farmers sink. I’m assuming Jesse’s grandfather installed it. It’s a pain in the arse to clean and keep clean. Just as cast iron does, it rusts. So I have to scrub it, scrape it and reoil. Which I did this morning. The only difference from a pan, it doesn’t get heated to season.  The kitchen didn’t have any actual cupboards either, seeing as it was a coat room.  When we tore out a kitchen wall in our old house we repurposed the cabinets here. Storage was limited. There was a pantry, which was at one time a closet. However, before we sealed all the nook and crannies, the mice frequented it and it was “things we didn’t use” storage. Now it’s a clean, useable space. Jesse’s grandmother had the bottom part of a Hoosier. Great, solid piece. Large work top. The drawers though…not your normal shaped drawers. So draw space was STILL an issue. When we moved, we brought our kitchen island, a repurposed child armour. Six drawers and one big storage cupboard for the garbage can. We HAVE to hide our garbage can. Apparently ALL of our animals are part raccoon.

The absolute best part…to us anyway. The chalkboards. Almost every single person who has ever stepped foot in the Schoolhouse, since 1956,has their name on the board. Whether it was family, friends, acquaintances, random stranger who we gave a tour. Their name is on THE BOARD. Even the delivery driver for our storage shed signed it. There are names of many I know, many I knew. Some still here. Some have past. It’s a piece of history.
Before we lived here, we would come up during the winter. When we walked in, the board looked as though it had been completely erased. Jesse was NOT happy. Once we got the fire going and the room started heating up, the moisture came out of the board and the writing reappeared. Big sigh of relief. Some of the names have been there for well over 30 years. Eventually, the chalk does fade, but in the right light, the right angle, you can still read it. Trying to find room to write is a chore. Trying to FIND a specific name is a quest. My granddaughter and I stared at the board for 20 minutes, searching for her name, a few weeks ago.
The other board, for the most part, is fair game. The kids are allowed to write and draw in a large area. They are forewarned NOT to get to close to a silly poem my mother in law wrote years ago. She loved her Diddy’s. There are also a few names on that board, as well, to be careful not to erase.

Between being a school and all the “visitors” for many moons, this place has seen a lot of people. A lot of characters and witnessed some fun times.

I’m sure it will see many more and welcome more people. Timber built framing, square nails, half log floor supports and still has a straight roof line, after nearly 200 years. Not to mention the weather this old house… on a hill…. surrounded by wide open fields… has seen. Pretty sure she’s not going anywhere. With upkeep and love, she’ll see another 200 years.