The Secret School

“‘But, if I had all that money…’ ‘What would you do?’ ‘Teach in a big city. Denver, maybe. Have books. My own car. A new one. Travel round the whole world.’ ‘Come on, you’re no flapper. Nice girls don’t do that.’ ‘Then, I’m not nice,’ Ida snapped.”

Tom thinks Ida’s dream to live in a big city and enjoy the full benefits of modern life makes her sound like a flapper—in the 1920s, the emancipated, stylish young women whose overly enthusiastic enjoyment of the “good life” made them targets of older generations who tended to regard such women as “lustful degenerates.” Ida resents being told to restrain her ambitions, and she hates it when others treat her desire to see the world beyond her own valley as sordid.

“She marched past the little kids playing on the teeter-totter. Just up and down, she thought. Going nowhere. Suppose if I’m not going to graduate, I won’t be going anywhere, either.”

For Ida, a life without an education means a dim future. Even her best friend, Tom, says she’s worrying too much about it, but Ida is determined to get out of the trap she senses closing on her. Education is the key that will unlock that cage; without it, she might never escape the dull life that awaits her in an old-fashioned, farming community.

“‘Miss Fletcher, do you think girls don’t need a high school education?’ ‘Oh no, of course I don’t believe that. Mr. Jordan was not...thinking.’ ‘It’s what he said.’ Miss Fletcher sighed. ‘Ida, do try to be patient.’ ‘It’s hard being patient,’ Ida replied, ‘if there’s nothing to be patient for.’”

School chairman Jordan believes girls don’t need much education, but he’s not the only obstacle to Ida’s dreams. Miss Fletcher’s suggestion that Ida be patient is the wisdom of a community that thinks in terms of this year’s crops, whereas Ida is working on a plan that will take years to fulfill. If she’s simply patient, her opportunities may fade away, and she’ll be stuck in a farming life instead of doing the teaching work she really wants.

“That evening, up in the loft bedroom Ida and Felix shared, Ida put aside the year-old Saturday Evening Post she’d been reading, lay back, and stared up at the wooden plank roof. She liked to imagine different pictures for the grain patterns. It always soothed her. One night it was a map. Another time it was secret writing. Sometimes it was even music. Tonight it was the road to school.”

Ida’s ability to entertain herself with nothing but the whorls in a wooden plank suggests resourcefulness, a trait she’ll soon need in great quantity. It also hints at a girl with a mind that is both smart and creative. She’ll need those strengths, too. The Saturday Evening Post was a popular general-purpose national magazine during the early-to-mid 1900s in America. That Ida reads it casually suggests she possesses reading skills above her grade level.

“Ida sighed. ‘I can’t believe we’re doing this.’ ‘You nervous?’ ‘I think so.’ ‘Know what my uncle once told me?’ Ida shook her head. ‘Said, ‘If you want to try something new, and you’re not scared, means you’re not really trying something new.’”

If Ida wants to be a teacher, she must take risks to get there. Instructing the other students—and not informing the school board about it—are scary prospects, but not getting the education she needs to become a real teacher frightens her even more. She realizes that, to achieve her goal, she must do things way beyond her skill level, behaviors that truly are new to her. As such, it’s as much a test of her courage as a test of skill.

“‘Which scares you the most,’ Tom pressed, ‘teaching, or not going to high school?’ ‘I think I’d hate myself if I didn’t try everything to get there,’ Ida said after a moment. ‘Well,’ said Tom, ‘if I had to pick between hating myself and scaring myself, guess I know what I’d do.’ ‘What?’ ‘Oh no!’ Tom said, getting up. ‘Last time I suggested what you could do, you got mad at me. You’re gonna have to decide for yourself.’”

Tom teases Ida, but he has a point: She must make her own choices and not rely on other people’s advice. Her future is hers alone, and it’s up to her which path she takes. Tom warns her that she’ll regret it if she doesn’t at least try to make it to high school; beyond that, only she can make the difficult decision about how to get there.

“‘It’s a secret school,’ Felix announced solemnly. Mr. Bidson, a flicker of a smile hovering over his lips, looked around at his wife. Then he grinned. ‘Kids, you have as much chance keeping secrets in the valley as you do growing oranges.’”

Ida’s father quietly supports her attempt to keep the school open by becoming the teacher. He’s not sure it’ll work, but he’s impressed that she’s willing to try. He also knows how hard it is to keep anything secret in a tightly-knit community of farmers. His comment foreshadows the troubles Ida will have keeping news of her activities out of the local gossip circuit.

“Ida started toward the back-row bench. Catching herself, she moved to the teacher’s desk. When she reached it, she stopped and touched the cool wooden surface. A chill went through her body. Taking off her coat, Ida automatically moved toward the girls’ wardrobe, only to catch herself again. She made herself use the teacher’s hook. Then she had to force herself to sit in the teacher’s chair.”

It’s hard for Ida, an obedient girl who’s used to deferring to adults, suddenly to stake a claim on their territory. Using the adult coat hook and sitting at the teacher’s desk seem at once rude and a frightening jump into the unknown. She wonders if she’s big enough and mature enough to take on the challenge. This becomes a challenge central to Ida’s quest: She must become a teacher before she is one.

“Ida cried, ‘Is that what you want? To be known as a lazy dud?’ She made a sharp bang on the floor by stamping her foot. Everyone jumped. ‘I ain’t saying—,’ Herbert said as he pulled his feet back from the desk. ‘I don’t care what you say,’ Ida snapped furiously. ‘I’m only caring for what you do!’”

On her first day as the teacher, Ida must confront Herbert, the class mischief-maker, who flatly refuses to do what Ida asks of him. Ida cleverly turns the tables on him by making him look “foolish” in front of the other students. She calls for a show of hands on expelling the boy, and everyone raises their hand. Cornered, Herbert gives in. It’s a watershed moment for Ida, who establishes her ability to control the room. Now, knowing that they’ll be in good hands, the other students can relax and get to work.

“As the day progressed, Ida felt her anxiety fade. She looked over the class. Everything was calm. School, to her surprise, was working. Then why was she so exhausted? Was every day going to be like this?”

Teaching takes a lot of energy, and Ida learns it on the first day of her secret school. She’s doing a remarkably good job for a 14-year-old performing a grown-up’s work, but she doesn’t yet know that. Much of her tiredness is from the tension and fear she feels from being wildly out of her depth and from the intense focus she has brought to the task for several hours in a row.

“As Ida moved into her second full week of teaching, she caught herself taking moments to relax, gaining a growing awareness that she did not have to be teaching each and every minute of the day. An even bigger discovery was that if she just let the students work at their own pace and allowed their questions to become discussions for the class, time went by quickly. More and more she found herself listening to them, thinking about what they said, rather than worrying about what she should say.”

Cautiously and slowly, Ida lets herself ease up on the task of teaching. She learns how to be more efficient in managing the classroom. She finds especially that she can let students discover answers for themselves, which will help them with lifelong learning as much or more than any facts she can impart to them.

“Everyone attended closely while Tom went into a complicated explanation of the workings of the radio. As he talked, Ida studied his face, deciding that what she liked most was its intensity. She loved how excited he was by what he had done.”

What Ida really loves is Tom, but that hasn’t yet become fully clear to her. Meanwhile, his own passionate interest in electronics as a career inspires in her the hope that she, too, can convert her own love of teaching into a lifelong calling. Tom is someone she can share her dreams with—a boy who understands them and shares ideas on how to make them come true. Already he has given her the idea to teach at their school, and she’s made the most of it. Their friendship is a vital contributor to Ida’s campaign to finish the school year.

“‘Can I...Can we...keep doing it? And...take the test?’ ‘Miss Bidson,’ Miss Sedgewick said, no longer smiling, ‘I think it’s wonderful that you...’ She paused. ‘But school boards act independently. My office has the duty to oversee teacher certification, curriculum, and exit exams. So...I’ll have to look into this,’ she said with sudden abruptness. ‘You’ll hear from me shortly.’”

Miss Sedgewick is quite taken by the children’s efforts to continue their education. She’s especially impressed with Ida, and already she wants to help her, but first, she must think of a way to do it correctly so that it fulfills the county’s regulations on testing and advancement without stepping on the toes of the local school board. Miss Sedgewick is that rare official willing to bend the rules so that an especially worthwhile, if unorthodox, project can get past the bureaucratic barriers that might otherwise block it.

“She realized now that she couldn’t be satisfied if just she and Tom took and passed their tests. She had an obligation to make sure that everyone did well.”

Ida realizes that, if she’s to win permission to take the eighth-grade exit exam, she must also make sure that everyone else completes their studies. The county won’t be nearly as supportive of Ida’s efforts if they’re only for her advancement. Besides, now that she’s been teaching her fellow students for a while, she’s begun to care about their progress and well-being. Ida has invested time and effort in the other children, and it would disappoint her greatly if they didn’t benefit from her work.

“Though Ida still hadn’t figured out how to be teacher, student, family member, and herself all at the same time, she found herself truly enjoying teaching. Each time she drove to school, she looked forward to what new things would happen.”

Exhausted and falling behind in her studies, Ida nonetheless loves being a teacher. She has found her calling; in some ways, it’s one of the most important lessons she learns during the school year. Though she still has a long way to go before she can claim the right to attend high school, her joy at instructing her fellow students revives her even as her over-stuffed schedule drags her down.

“‘Do you think Mr. Jordan already knows what we’re doing?’ ‘Ida, in this valley—sooner or later—everybody knows everything about everybody. You could tell him yourself, you know.’”

Ida’s mother knows that people enjoy sharing secrets, and in a small group, there are few with whom to discuss them beyond other group members. A small community soon learns all its hidden truths. Ida hopes not to keep her teaching work a secret forever but just long enough to get her through the exit exam. So far, most of those who know about it are on her side, including Miss Sedgewick, but school board chairman Mr. Jordan can’t be kept out of the loop forever. Ida must work quickly to help her fellow students study for their exit tests. The clock is ticking, and Ida’s burden increases even as she must climb faster.

“As she and Felix drove to school she recited the Longfellow poem: ‘Tell me not in mournful numbers—Brake, clutch! Life is but—Not so hard!—an empty dream— For the soul is dead that slumbers—Brake! And things are not—Brake, clutch!—what they seem. Life is real!—Brake!—Life is earnest! And the grave—Clutch!—is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest—Brake! Was not—Brake! Clutch!—spoken of the soul.’”

Ida finds ways to study while doing other things. This is hard, but the entire project is hard. The poem speaks to Ida’s struggle: Teaching is a purpose that gives her life meaning, and fighting to win the battle to become a full-fledged teacher inspires her much more than farm life. She’ll do what it takes to prevent her life from becoming an empty dream.

“Herbert was quiet for a moment. Then, without looking at Ida directly, he said, ‘See, my dad, he never had much learning. Sometimes I think he gets fretted up about me knowing more than he does. Worries I’ll get uppity. Thinks if I know too much, I might take off. You know, hightail it somewhere far away. Never come back. Which I just might do. Someday. Angry old cuss, he is. Lonely, too.’”

Herbert explains some farmers’ reluctance to send their kids to school: If they learn, they leave. By the 1920s, most Americans have moved to big cities, where factories and offices beckon with better money than they could make on a farm. Herbert is caught between the old ways and the new. So is Ida, but her folks at least can see ahead to a better life for her. 

“‘Fact is, gentlemen, I didn’t even know Miss Fletcher was gone. Leastwise, Mr. Jordan, you never informed me. Did you know?’ he asked Mr. Morris. ‘Only recently.’ ‘Too late to get a replacement,’ Mr. Jordan growled. ‘Didn’t want to bother you.’ ‘I accept your explanation, sir,’ said Mr. Hawkins. ‘But I can’t see how these children did any real harm. Fact, I’d say they were only doing what we want them to do—learn. And I say, more power to them.’”

At the school board meeting, Reverend Hawkins, in his diplomatic way, makes it clear that Mr. Jordan is trying to shut down the school without consulting the township. Hawkins highlights the kids’ noble attempt to finish the semester despite opposition from their school board chairman. The parents begin to understand that the fault lies not with Ida, who’s helping the students succeed, but with Mr. Jordan, who’s trying to scuttle the community’s efforts to educate their children.

“Please, sirs, the term is almost over. Miss Sedgewick from the County Education Office said she’d come and test us all. We’d just appreciate it if you gave us the chance to try.”

Ida concludes her stirring speech to the Elk Valley school board with a humble and respectful request to finish what, after all, the kids’ parents want them to do. It’s hard to say no to someone who sincerely wants to improve the lives of the valley’s children, especially when it’s nearly cost-free to the community. Ida has done her best, and it’s excellent work. Such a person is unlikely to let others down and highly likely to succeed in whatever she puts her mind to, and the townsfolk know it.

“The Last two weeks of school were frantic. […] For Ida it was a time of torment. She felt like yelling, ‘Let me study! It’s my turn!’ But her students—the younger ones in particular—kept asking for help. How could she refuse? She was the teacher. Hadn’t Mr. Jordan said she was responsible?”

As good as her word, Ida ensures that all the other students are prepared to pass their year-end tests. She does so in the face of mounting anxiety about passing her exit exam. Setting aside those concerns, she focuses on her students’ achievements. It’s what a great teacher would do.

“‘I can’t do it,’ Ida said to herself as she milked Bluebell. ‘I had to help everybody pass their exams. They mustn’t, mustn’t fail. It’s going to be my fault if they do. I’m responsible. I was the teacher.’ Ida had resisted tears for so long, but now, exhausted and wrought up, she finally let them come. The deep, racking sobs were loud enough to cause the cow to turn around and see what was happening.”

Overly stressed from several weeks of exhausting work and despondent that her duties as a teacher may have prevented her from studying enough to pass her exit exam, Ida finally lets the tension empty out through her tears. She’s deeply afraid that all of her hard work will collapse in failure. She doesn’t yet understand that the greatest value from her quest is her stupendous effort and her ability to persevere despite all the obstacles. Whether or not she passes, Ida has already graduated from childhood.

“This certifies that Ida Bidson, age 14, a resident of the town of Elk Valley, of Routt County, State of Colorado, has completed the course of study with honors prescribed for common schools, and is entitled to enter the high school at Steamboat Springs, for the year beginning September 1925. Yours truly, Miss Gertrude Sedgewick County Examiner.”

The mailed form—filled in with Ida’s name, residence, county, high marks, and eligibility to attend ninth grade—puts an official stamp on Ida’s successful completion of her eighth-grade spring semester. She’ll never work harder for a certificate than she has for this one. It gives her the right to continue her education and effectively validates her efforts as a teacher, grassroots organizer, local hero, and caring family member. Despite the odds, she got all of it done.