The American missionary — volume 42, no. 9, September, 1888

STUDENT’S LETTER.

HOW I WON MY SCHOOL.

MR. W.B.ROSS.

In the spring of 1881, I left Fisk University in search of a summer school.Knowing nowhere else to go, I went to the southwestern part of Arkansas.I had been informed by a Fisk student that there were vacancies in Hempstead county, and thither I bent my way in company with two other young men, also seeking summer employment, both of whom opened subscription schools in the State.I had taken two lessons a day in Latin during the school year just ended, and expected to “double my Greek” the next year.This would necessitate my being in at the beginning of the school year.I had always been politically inclined, and so had studied almost every artifice to win among strangers.

We three rode from Hope, Arkansas, to Washington, a distance of ten miles, in an old-fashioned ambulance.

On arriving at Washington, we were taken to the house of the colored teacher of that place.I looked at him; he extended his hand; I explained our business, and immediately he volunteered to assist us.

I had a particular school in view on leaving Nashville.On arriving at Washington, I learned from Mr. Shepperson, the teacher referred to, that one of the trustees of that school was in town.

I immediately started out in search of him.In a short time I was presented to a stoutly-built, heavy-set man, who was introduced as the gentleman I desired to see.I forthwith explained to Mr. Holt, for such was his name, that I had been informed that there was a colored school to be taught that summer in his district, and that I had come hoping I could get it.

“Yes,” said he, “there is a school there, but it will be a month before it can open.”

“Is that so?”said I.“I don’t see what I’ll do.Have you any objections to its being opened now?”

“Oh, no; if the colored people are willing, I am,” said he.

But I could see in the tone of his voice something that showed an unwillingness to have the school begin before Mr. Holt’s cotton was worked out.However, I took him at his word, and set out in the hot sun and sand, with my satchel on my back, to the desired plantation. On the way, I saw two million lizzards, one billion spiders, and a trillion scorpions, to say nothing of tarantulas and centipedes that appeared in countless numbers along my path. I arrived at Mr. H.’ s house about six o’clock in the evening, and proceeded immediately to the cabin where the colored people lived. Finding no one at the cabin, I went to the field.

“Good evening,” said I to an old colored lady.

“Good evenin’,” said she.

“I am from Fisk University, Nashville, Tenn.I have come out here to teach this school for you.”

“Whar’s ’Fesser Thomson?”said she.

“I don’t know where the Professor is, but I’ll teach for you.My name is Ross.”

“Yas, sah.”

“And your name?”

“Daffney.”

“Mrs. Daffney, will you show me how to find the rest of the colored people in this settlement?”

“Yas, sah.Go down here and cross yonder, and you’ll come to a big field and some trees, sah.”

Before leaving Nashville, I put on my best.I knew, in case of any difficulty, my clothes would be an important factor in obtaining success.I went to an old colored man, plowing in that field, opened my duster, showed him my nice coat and shirt-stud, at the same time telling him, as fast as I could, whence I came, my object in coming, and reading the Fisk catalogue to let him learn something about the school.

He seemed satisfied with me.His countenance had changed from its troubled appearance to a pleasant one.But for ten minutes we argued the possibility of a cotton crop being made there if school opened then.I made point after point, but could not convince him, so put out after his wife.She was readily convinced of the desirability of having school open immediately; she promised to send three children, and to turn the old man.

I next encountered Jack Davis.“If you open school now, we’ll starve next winter,” said he.

I tried to show him differently, but was unsuccessful.I asked him for a drink.On reaching the house for it I explained my mission to his wife, and obtained her consent to open the school, with her promise to send two.

I next met a man who had no children to send.When I showed him the picture of Fisk University (Jubilee Hall), he immediately volunteered to work for me.He and I went and saw nearly every man in the community before 9 o’clock that night.

The majority were against me, but I had resolved to open school there and then.Time would not permit me to delay longer.The next day (Sunday) I was given a Bible class to teach in the Sunday-school.To my surprise, on going out doors I found that a preliminary school meeting had been held under the trees and that the Sunday-school teacher, though against me on coming there, had changed and was marshalling his forces for the great meeting on the morrow.

At 11 o’clock that same morning I heard a rousing blast by a huntsman’s horn.On inquiring, I found that my childless friend was telling the people to come together the next day.In the meantime, Jack Davis came over and discussed the matter with me.He closed by saying that I talked too fast for him, but that one thing was sure: he would send no children.

I did a great deal of talking that Sunday; not willingly, but on being introduced to the people as they came around to see me, nothing was left but to discuss in full the question of opening.It was an ox in the mire.Well, Monday came.The horn once more resounded through the woods.The people gathered from far and near.The chairman was elected, and, on stating the object of the meeting, took occasion to show them the impracticability of opening before the first of July.“There,” thought I, “whipped again.The chair is against me.”I arose and spoke ten minutes.On taking my seat, one opposed to me spoke.Among other things, he said: “Too many rascals are out from school, anyhow.”Here one would rise on my side; there one on the other side.Every man, including myself, seemed to do his best to talk loud enough.The chairman showed weakness in presiding, and was lacking in a knowledge of parliamentary usage.Thought I, “here is my chance.”Every time he blundered I arose and pointed out his error; showed him how to appoint his committees, and instructed him as to what motions took precedence.He saw my object, and informed me openly that he had participated in conventions in Helena.“It makes no difference,” said I; “you are wrong in your ruling.”

He began to look pitiful in the eyes of all.Men began to leave the room.Soon one-half of them were on the outside.The tide was turned.I went out to inquire more fully into matters.Nearly every man was now for me.“Then, come in,” said I; “you can’t help me out here.”I remained behind to see that all came.The previous question, namely, to open the school on the first of June, was called.All stood up in the affirmative except the man who had seen the “rascals.”I had won through the chairman’s ignorance.I have often thought of it since, and see more fully every day that most battles are lost or won through incompetency on one side and superiority on the other, and that knowledge is truly a power.

I will add that Jack Davis was my best friend after opening that school, and Dick Brown, whom I met plowing on going from Aunt Daffney’s house, carried my trunk a quarter of a mile for nothing, and loaned me his watch while I taught there.On going away, the man who was so afraid of the “rascals” came four miles to my house and carried my trunk thirteen miles to Hope—all for nothing.The crop turned out well.I gained twenty pounds, and, in a word, we were all happy.