The Old Gray Mare

Soon after we moved into the new Salvation Army building on East Liberty Street (the Kroc Center), a few of the church members began to talk about the good old days in the East Third Street building. That building had opened in 1937 with lots of fanfare and high expectations, and my friends had been a part of that story over the years. They were nostalgic for the people who had worshipped in that site, the weddings held in its chapel, and the presence of the spirit of God within its walls. It just wasn’t the same in the new building, and in the haze of reminiscing, those precious memories overshadowed the nasty bathrooms, drafty windows, and generally decrepit building that had kept the Salvation Army in Ashland from reaching its full potential.

 I understood their bittersweet feelings, because though I had only spent three years on East Third Street, I too had some good times there.  I wanted to be patient with the adjustment to the new, but at times I did want to shout out – get a life - the old gray mare just ain’t what she used to be. Fortunately, my compassion outweighed my impatience, and we worked through the transition together, and wept a few tears when the old girl finally met the wrecking ball.

 The old gray mare song keeps flooding my mind these days, especially when I think about the Ashland Middle School. Like the old Salvation Army building, that old gray mare sure ain’t what she used to be either.  She’s a great school educationally, with a terrific report card, caring, competent teachers, and a tenacious spirit, but those walls are just tired out – while they’re not yet like the walls of Jericho that came tumbling down with the blast of the trumpet, a few too many of the middle school walls are crumbling down around our kids.

Ah, middle school  As I think about my school years, it’s the middle school times that I remember most – although back in the dark ages, we still called it junior high. That’s when I learned to play bassoon, to memorize the countries on the African continent, and to use a sewing machine. Those were days of study hall spitballs and notes surreptitiously passed back and forth across the aisle. It was a time for BFF kinds of friendships and for those first hesitant talks with a boy – oh my, does that bring back memories. Formative years for sure.

Mary Pipher, a clinical psychologist, wrote Reviving Ophelia, a book published in 1994 that has become a classic in adolescent development in those formative years. While she primarily describes the challenges faced by teen girls, her closing words fit both genders when she says, “Adolescence is a border between childhood and adulthood. Like life on all borders, it’s teeming with energy and fraught with danger.”  “Teeming with energy” is a great descriptor of life in our middle school, as our kids bring good energy to learning, to skill development, and to relationship-building.

But as the responsible adults in our community, we want to do our best to provide an environment for our kids that will minimize the dangers they face, tossing aside the self-imposed or culturally-inflicted blackout curtains of adolescence and letting plenty of light into their lives, both literally and figuratively.  That starts with the middle school building where they spend half of their waking hours each weekday.

Here’s the challenge. While Ashlanders may cling to their middle school memories with nostalgia, I don’t think I’ve met anyone who believes that the current middle school is the best setting for our kids. In fact, one friend said, “I went to the middle school in 1960 and it was in bad shape then.” We may not agree on Romney or Obama, but we do agree on this – Ashland needs a new middle school.  We can mope around town, singing a dirge for the old gray mare who obviously ain’t what she used to be, or we can write a new song by getting our kids what they need.  The choice is ours, Ashland.  What song will you sing?