Dee Rice Freeman

Dee (Rice) Freeman... ‘64 Harrisonite

The Little School House that could! Did!

Did what? some will ask! Let's see what all the talk is about. Let's go back into the memories.… Whose memories?

Our memories… The Harrisonites!

Over the past 8 plus decades the graduates of the little school house have traveled to the four corners of the earth, have done exceptional things for mankind, have reached unbelievable heights, have succeeded in every imaginable profession from Clergy, Medical Doctors, PHDs, Attorneys, Accountants, Educators, high ranking Military Personnel, Managers for businesses, Business Owners to possibly Fortune 500 Businesspersons! Since 1935, we've been conditioned to reach for the stars, so far we've only reached the moon. But give us a little more time and we will complete any and everything we've set out to accomplish.

Let me be perfectly clear, here. Getting to the moon from our starting point, barely nothing...Ain't half bad! In order to appreciate the strength and determination of such a history as ours, one must follow me back past our place in history to a day when blacks were not considered full citizens…only 3/5 of a citizen/human. Back to where as chattel, we were as valuable as, and compared to livestock. Follow me back to when it was against the law to be taught to read. These were horrendous times for us, as a people.

Let's think solemnly about that time in our history, although this is not a time we fondly ponder. Yet, you and I should dare to think of that time when we had no rights. When the Caucasians/devil’s advocates could and often did treat us with disrespect, disdain and hatred. A time when we could not even speak up to defend ourself when assaulted by such disrespect and hatred. A time that saw us hung by the neck if we dared lift our bowed heads to look into the eyes of these devil advocates. A time that pressed us deeper into oppression… a time of blood, sweat, pain, suffering and tears. These horrendous times in our history left scars of stress, oppression and depression.

Do we ever think or ponder on how we’d fare if we were in a situation of that magnitude or just born 100 years earlier? What feelings are conjured up from deep down, for our ancestors of yesteryear? Can we even imagine, let alone understand how they always managed the strength needed to carry on through those oppressed times? I am saddened, for I know we can never make up for all the times we were forced to sit idly by while our people were and continue to be humiliated, downtrodden, beaten down, killed and still treated inhumanely on every turn?

Yet, we must acknowledge these past atrocities-to never allow a repeat of such, and we must be fully aware of our present and future. We should be extremely proud of those who paved a worthy path for us. Proud of their love for posterity. Proud of their strategies and abilities to handle the many demeaning, and challenging experiences. PROUD. For their survival was paramount and their cunningness undeniable, for here we are still. It's taken us years and years to move forward and get to where we are...slightly above the bottom rung of the totem pole. But, let’s remain vigilant and not let our freedoms slip away.

My! My! My! How far do we go back? A long, long way, but look at how far we've come!

But alas, I digress...

This school came a mighty long way. For the minimal records of its humble beginnings and evolution tell us of several buildings; a one room shack built on land donated by Henry Blithe, to a larger four room building constructed by a philanthropist named Rosenwald, who felt African-American children needed to be educated as well as white children…just not to the same degree.

Dr. MLK Jr. spoke of having a dream and keeping it alive. Well, we have done that and are yet doing that right now!… In our humble efforts to recall and remember, we now awaken the spirit of the dragon! The mighty dragon! And we can all help him to roar mightily! Miss Aleana Wiley penned the first small roar in 1986 in the book entitled the Mississippi County Arkansas. She recalled the stars of our journey beginning in 1928.

And although I cannot fill in much physical history between the years 1928 and 1964, I can share snippets of my six year history as I recall:

My bashful and meager entry into the realm of education at RB Harrison High School was in the fall of 1958. In a brand new experience, a whole New World, I was of course, thrilled to be starting in the seventh grade, where I would at least have a visual of experienced upperclassmen. As I look back on my shyness and naïveté, I had no pre-conception of what to expect, so I moved about in awe much of the time.

The campus grounds at that time occupied both sides of McHaney Road. Which I’m told, a mere 10 years earlier there had been no McHaney Road, not to mention a campus and numerous buildings. This, was a huge change for me, since I was coming from the single building of Robinson Elementary, located on 16th St. in Robinson Addition There were several buildings on the left side of the road, of which, one was the agriculture building where Papa Lester taught Trades and subjects for boys. I can’t recall what classes were taught in the second smaller building, but I do remember attending numerous meetings within its walls. Our main building, across the street, was almost as it stands today. It housed our classrooms, our Principal’s office...Mr. Leo D. Jeffers, our library, and a study hall. I recall an addition was built on after several years of attending Harrison. The expansion, as I remember, was called the Annex which was an additional 4 to 6 classrooms, I do believe. The big yellow Gym was already there, upon my arrival. Though a couple other small trailer size buildings found their way to our campus, one was our Home Ed class taught by Mrs. H. Nunn.

I believe I actually acclimated well and joined in with the multitude of other seventh graders, some of whom were bused in from other small towns and locations around Blytheville. Another classmate mentioned that our beginning class was about 100 students and ninth grade began with 115.

The first year was more of a blur than my later years, either by accident or by design. I do recall the only bad grade I received throughout high school was because of attendance or lack therefore. School policy was that you could not receive an A as a grade if you were absent from any class more than six times. Because family financial circumstances dictated, I had to take time off from school to help secure finances to feed and clothe our family…which at that time the only thing available to the majority of us was...you got it...picking and/or chopping cotton. So, after that first semester, my teachers were more familiar and understanding of our plight. Thus, from that point on, if I Aced an exam, I was given the grade.

One very early experience I do recall… actually seared into my memory, was a day as I arrived on campus, I will stalled by a big dump truck, which in retrospect I think was horrid, but at the time I had no previous knowledge or reference point, so seeing them dump textbooks onto the lawn, used textbooks, was just another experience in my young life in the south.

During the following years, even my young mind realized we had amazing instructors. Though, as I ponder our uniqueness, I realize these instructors were more than amazing, more than phenomenal. They were on a mission. A number of them had come directly from college to teach us, thus they appeared only a few years older than us… But, their dedication to teach us and help move our race forward was astounding. Even though the country had not yet moved into the equality for all realm, as high school students, we believed in ourselves, and in most instances, we tried following our teachers’ leads. Of which, of course, there were many scholarly role models.

The years progressed as I moved from grade to grade. I joined a number of organizations as I grew in confidence and ability. I was in the lead role in several organizations, but thoroughly enjoyed the camaraderie that we as a group shared. The choir under the tutelage of Mrs. Bussey, the band under Mr. Brown, were two classes of benefit, which built character and allowed me to hone my talents. I was a member of the National Honor Society, the Future Teachers, the Drama club, and several others, which helped to keep my mind alert and of course focused on education.

As our class moved toward graduation, we lost a number of classmates for a variety of reasons, leaving a class of about 63 to graduate. I was also honored with the title of valedictorian for the 1964 graduating class. I happily accepted that honor, and I now proudly reminisce, as I see year after year, numerous top notch professionals returning to our reunions.

Even though we don’t have an abundance of historical facts about the Harrison High School campus, it’s beginnings and physical evolution, we do know that we possess an uncommon heritage, of which we can all be extremely proud. We’ve returned from every corner of the world to celebrate this historic school, which gave us a valued and quality beginning.

We are therefore proud to be Harrisonites. We are proud to have been shoved and loved, scolded and molded by our families, our teachers, our communities. We are proud also that our beloved school is now listed as an historical site.

So, Hip Hip Hooray! Class of 1964!

Hip Hip Hooray! THE LITTLE SCHOOL HOUSE THAT COULD...

We, Harrisonites and History sincerely proclaim that it DID! And YES,

DID IT WELL!!!

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