Rural school magic

By Garrett Hamilton (he/him), teacher, Elkford

Rural schools are often beset by unique challenges and opportunities. They are ecosystems all on their own with just the right levels of pH, moisture, and temperature to incubate oddities and quirks. These quirks are more than charming; they shape a powerful learning community rooted in visibility, connection, and shared responsibility. There is a sort of magic to it.

It is hard to explain the magic of a rural school until a person has spent time teaching in one. If you walk the halls in any rural school in British Columbia, it won’t take long for you to feel like Sam Malone in an episode of Cheers because everybody knows your name, even if you’ve only been there for an hour or so. As a newcomer, your arrival will send ripples through the halls, piquing interest and curiosity, and prompting some coincidentally timed walks past your location as people “go to the bathroom” or “pick up their copying.”

Anonymity for teachers and students is unknown in these spaces, and this can be both joyous and difficult at times. That student who gets under your skin in the first period? Get ready to see them again at the end of the day. And twice next semester. And next year too. And then you get to teach their little sister for another five years after they graduate! The same applies to colleagues. As a peer, there’s no avoiding them. There are only 12 of you in the whole school, and your kids are the same age and go to all the same birthday parties. And trivia night is the only thing to do in town on Thursdays, so you’re not going to miss it on account of them!

Although this may seem troubling, it is actually quite endearing. Small rural schools breed a familial, pioneering attitude that is often befitting of their remote locations. They are schools on the frontier and develop a level of collegiality commensurate with such a location. Each rural school staff is a pirate ship buffeted around on the turbulent swells of contemporary education. They are crewed by an appropriately eclectic (and lovable) cast of characters who, though they might not know how they got here, are pitching in where they can to best serve their students. Some may be coaching, some running lunchtime programs, and some swabbing the deck. All play a special role. They may not all get along or have the same role, but they are all united under the same flag, as one crew, for a clear purpose: to serve the students. 

All schools are transformative places where special things happen, but rural schools just feel different. At my school we have a tradition where the school gathers for a family-style dinner in December. Tables are laid out, food is served, and everyone in the building gathers in the gym to sit down and eat together, Grades 7 through 12. It’s a beautiful and authentic moment of human connection and empathy. In that moment, while we stuff our faces with mashed potatoes and turkey, we are unified by the learning community that we’ve built together, and everyone is shown that they have a place in it. Community bonds are strengthened and so is the magic.

I wish every educator could enjoy a day or two in a rural school just to experience the magic of it. I bet they would walk away with a stronger sense of the role that community can play in the educational experience and an appreciation for the do-it-yourself, problem-solving attitude required in these spaces. There’s also a good chance that they would walk away saying something along the lines of, “My, that was quite odd. All those people were quirky. It was great!”

Quirky is good. Oddities should be embraced. Differences should be celebrated and we should lean into the unique circumstances of our environments. Rural schools remind us of the beauty of community-driven education and just how powerful it can be.