School Days at Waretown’s Little Red Schoolhouse
By Adele Sattler Shaw, President and Historian of Waretown Historical Society
By Adele Sattler Shaw, President and Historian of Waretown Historical Society
Waretown’s Little Red Schoolhouse Museum is a replica of the school that served our community for 83 years, from 1875 until 1958, when Waretown Elementary School opened on Railroad Avenue. The original Little Red Schoolhouse was built on land donated by the Birdsall family, who produced generations of important local sea captains. The schoolhouse stood where Waretown First Aid Station is today, at the corner of Bryant Road and Route 9.
School never closed for winter weather. On snowy days, Ida and her older sister Laura (second row, standing, first on right) still attended. Their father walked ahead of them, breaking a path in the snow. They followed in his footsteps, all the way to the schoolhouse.
Mary recalled that the teacher picked two students every morning to get a bucket of drinking water from Abraham Waier’s old mill pond. It was an honor to be chosen for that job, but Mary admitted, “We didn’t always come right back!” The full bucket was placed on a shelf. Everybody drank out of it all day long, using the same dipper.
The kids loved the nearby mill pond and would play there before school and during recess. One teacher rang the bell early enough to give them time to get back from skating or wading, so they wouldn’t get in trouble for being late. Mary tried to take a shortcut across the mill stream one day, wearing her best dress. She noticed the log for crossing was green, but didn’t think anything of it—until her feet slipped out from under her, and she got a dunking!
Mary recalled that the teacher picked two students every morning to get a bucket of drinking water from Abraham Waier’s old mill pond. It was an honor to be chosen for that job, but Mary admitted, “We didn’t always come right back!” The full bucket was placed on a shelf. Everybody drank out of it all day long, using the same dipper.
The kids loved the nearby mill pond and would play there before school and during recess. One teacher rang the bell early enough to give them time to get back from skating or wading, so they wouldn’t get in trouble for being late. Mary tried to take a shortcut across the mill stream one day, wearing her best dress. She noticed the log for crossing was green, but didn’t think anything of it—until her feet slipped out from under her, and she got a dunking!
Besides the mill pond, the school kids loved spending recess at the shop of Thomas Gray, Waretown’s village blacksmith. His little shop was right next door to the school, and the kids congregated there on rainy days. He had a wonderful way with people, and children especially loved him.
The blacksmith told the kids stories of tall ships sailing the world from Waretown’s harbor. He also entertained them with silly spelling games. Mary remembered how he asked if she was a good speller. When she said yes, he asked her to spell “Blind Pig.” When she did, he replied, “Oh, no, Mary—it’s blnd pg: take out the eyes and the pig can’t see!”
Mr. Gray also taught the kids how to play a strange wailing tune by blowing thought the nail holes on a horseshoe. He made rings from horseshoe nails for the girls. He kept a huge garden, and would send produce home with a child if he knew the family was having a hard time.
One early teacher, Stokes Collins, came in on horseback from Barnegat every day. Lona Giberson Penn was another teacher. Every now and then, she’d forget her false teeth, and had to leave school to go home and get them!
When school let out for the day, many girls loved staying after, helping the teacher clean the board and prepare the room for the next morning. That task was an honor. In the same way, boys vied for the privilege of ringing the school bell. Sometimes, a bell ringer pulled too hard on the rope, and the bell would “catch on the upswing.” When that happened, somebody had to scramble up into the tower and release it.
The blacksmith told the kids stories of tall ships sailing the world from Waretown’s harbor. He also entertained them with silly spelling games. Mary remembered how he asked if she was a good speller. When she said yes, he asked her to spell “Blind Pig.” When she did, he replied, “Oh, no, Mary—it’s blnd pg: take out the eyes and the pig can’t see!”
Mr. Gray also taught the kids how to play a strange wailing tune by blowing thought the nail holes on a horseshoe. He made rings from horseshoe nails for the girls. He kept a huge garden, and would send produce home with a child if he knew the family was having a hard time.
One early teacher, Stokes Collins, came in on horseback from Barnegat every day. Lona Giberson Penn was another teacher. Every now and then, she’d forget her false teeth, and had to leave school to go home and get them!
When school let out for the day, many girls loved staying after, helping the teacher clean the board and prepare the room for the next morning. That task was an honor. In the same way, boys vied for the privilege of ringing the school bell. Sometimes, a bell ringer pulled too hard on the rope, and the bell would “catch on the upswing.” When that happened, somebody had to scramble up into the tower and release it.
The railroad arrived in Waretown in 1873. The depot was built right across the street from Waretown’s Schoolhouse. The train brought the mail, and paying guests for Waretown’s hunting and fishing lodges. These guests were interesting, wealthy people from far away. The Bayview Hotel, on today’s Bryant Road, [where the pavilion is now located] sent a special car to the depot to pick them up. All the children’s heads would turn to the window when trains squealed in. What lesson plan could compete with that?
Early Graduates of Waretown School
Back in those days, it was not unusual for boys to leave school at age 12 or 13 and go to sea. For example, in 1873, Tom Stackhouse went to sea at twelve to work the coasting trade, shipping lumber with Waretown’s Sea Captain William Burden on the schooner Eva Holmes. Tom survived the shipwreck when the Eva Holmes sank near Hatteras in 1881, during a huge storm. The crew was picked up by a passing ship and dropped off in New York. Tradition says they walked all the way home to Waretown. Mary’s uncle, William Bareford Jr, wasn’t so lucky. In 1879, he was an eighth-grade student at the Little Red Schoolhouse, but wanted to become a sailor. He asked another Waretown Sea Captain, William Chambers, to bring him along on his next voyage.
Mary’s grandparents worried about the dangers of the coasting trade. They asked William to plow their entire cornfield before the ship left, hoping he would never finish in time. But William was so determined to be a sailor that he actually did it, all by himself. His parents felt obligated to keep their promise. Reluctantly, they let him go.
Sadly, Chambers’ ship, the Hershel, disappeared in a hurricane that August. Neither William nor Captain Chambers were ever heard from again. William’s mother never stopped hoping her boy would return. Every night, for the rest of her life, she kept a candle burning in the front window. The little flame was a light to guide him home.
The Birdsall Brothers, Jacob, Amos, and Samuel, also left Waretown school and went to sea. Following in the footsteps of generations of Birdsalls in Waretown, they built a family fortune on the coasting trade. Amos went on to become the second president of the First National Bank of Toms River. Samuel became a prominent legislator and judge. Jacob’s fleet of vessels was chartered by the Federal Government during the Civil War.
In Ida and Mary’s day, Waretown students who wanted to continue their education after eighth grade boarded the 6am train for high school in Lakewood. By 1911, however, a high school had been built in Barnegat, and five Waretown students enrolled. Our graduating students went to Barnegat until Southern Regional High School opened in Manahawkin in 1957.
Early Graduates of Waretown School
Back in those days, it was not unusual for boys to leave school at age 12 or 13 and go to sea. For example, in 1873, Tom Stackhouse went to sea at twelve to work the coasting trade, shipping lumber with Waretown’s Sea Captain William Burden on the schooner Eva Holmes. Tom survived the shipwreck when the Eva Holmes sank near Hatteras in 1881, during a huge storm. The crew was picked up by a passing ship and dropped off in New York. Tradition says they walked all the way home to Waretown. Mary’s uncle, William Bareford Jr, wasn’t so lucky. In 1879, he was an eighth-grade student at the Little Red Schoolhouse, but wanted to become a sailor. He asked another Waretown Sea Captain, William Chambers, to bring him along on his next voyage.
Mary’s grandparents worried about the dangers of the coasting trade. They asked William to plow their entire cornfield before the ship left, hoping he would never finish in time. But William was so determined to be a sailor that he actually did it, all by himself. His parents felt obligated to keep their promise. Reluctantly, they let him go.
Sadly, Chambers’ ship, the Hershel, disappeared in a hurricane that August. Neither William nor Captain Chambers were ever heard from again. William’s mother never stopped hoping her boy would return. Every night, for the rest of her life, she kept a candle burning in the front window. The little flame was a light to guide him home.
The Birdsall Brothers, Jacob, Amos, and Samuel, also left Waretown school and went to sea. Following in the footsteps of generations of Birdsalls in Waretown, they built a family fortune on the coasting trade. Amos went on to become the second president of the First National Bank of Toms River. Samuel became a prominent legislator and judge. Jacob’s fleet of vessels was chartered by the Federal Government during the Civil War.
In Ida and Mary’s day, Waretown students who wanted to continue their education after eighth grade boarded the 6am train for high school in Lakewood. By 1911, however, a high school had been built in Barnegat, and five Waretown students enrolled. Our graduating students went to Barnegat until Southern Regional High School opened in Manahawkin in 1957.
New Life for the Old Schoolhouse
But yet, it wasn’t quite the end for the Little Red Schoolhouse. When it came time to build Waretown’s Historical Society Museum, members voted overwhelmingly to make it a replica of the beloved old school.
Henry Gerken sat down with David Shaw, another Waretown builder, and the two drew up plans and got them approved. The township shared a plot of land at Waretown Lake, with a ready-made parking lot. Engel Sprague, president of Waretown Historical Society at the time, worked out a plan with the developers of Greenbriar to donate building materials.
We held our groundbreaking ceremony on May 23, 2000. Generous contributions began flooding in. Our past treasurer, spent many hours applying for grants, and we were awarded with two.
When we were ready to begin construction, a wonderful thing happened—the whole town joined in an old fashioned “barn raising” (above). Tony Fonseca, a local mason, donated the foundation. Young and old volunteered time to lend a hand with framing. We had teenagers hammering nails next to senior citizens, and all of us knew we were building a piece of history.
The police department helped with sheathing. David paid one of his own crews to set the trusses, then built the bell tower in our back yard. Local companies donated and/or installed roofing, heating, air conditioning, flooring, and an alarm system. Danny Collamer raised the bell tower onto the roof, and designed a metal framework that allowed us to ring the bell. The entire construction was a true community effort, and did not cost our township anything.
As the Little Red Schoolhouse Museum prepared to open its doors, former students who had saved desks from the wrecking ball brought them back. The First Aid Squad returned the old blackboard, which they had been using in their garage. Even the original bell made its way home. Our past curator, arranged everything into welcoming and attractive displays. Waretown Historical Society was proud to host our Grand Opening Celebration on October 30, 2004. I was thrilled when Engel asked me to cut the ribbon.
I’d like to close with a poem written by Lillian Arnold Lopez, Waretown’s first historian and Piney Lore Poet. As I shared before, Mary Bareford Hussong grew up here at the turn of the twentieth century. Mary loved talking about life in the old days. Lillian carefully transcribed Mary’s memories, turning them into a sweet, rhyming story-poem:
But yet, it wasn’t quite the end for the Little Red Schoolhouse. When it came time to build Waretown’s Historical Society Museum, members voted overwhelmingly to make it a replica of the beloved old school.
Henry Gerken sat down with David Shaw, another Waretown builder, and the two drew up plans and got them approved. The township shared a plot of land at Waretown Lake, with a ready-made parking lot. Engel Sprague, president of Waretown Historical Society at the time, worked out a plan with the developers of Greenbriar to donate building materials.
We held our groundbreaking ceremony on May 23, 2000. Generous contributions began flooding in. Our past treasurer, spent many hours applying for grants, and we were awarded with two.
When we were ready to begin construction, a wonderful thing happened—the whole town joined in an old fashioned “barn raising” (above). Tony Fonseca, a local mason, donated the foundation. Young and old volunteered time to lend a hand with framing. We had teenagers hammering nails next to senior citizens, and all of us knew we were building a piece of history.
The police department helped with sheathing. David paid one of his own crews to set the trusses, then built the bell tower in our back yard. Local companies donated and/or installed roofing, heating, air conditioning, flooring, and an alarm system. Danny Collamer raised the bell tower onto the roof, and designed a metal framework that allowed us to ring the bell. The entire construction was a true community effort, and did not cost our township anything.
As the Little Red Schoolhouse Museum prepared to open its doors, former students who had saved desks from the wrecking ball brought them back. The First Aid Squad returned the old blackboard, which they had been using in their garage. Even the original bell made its way home. Our past curator, arranged everything into welcoming and attractive displays. Waretown Historical Society was proud to host our Grand Opening Celebration on October 30, 2004. I was thrilled when Engel asked me to cut the ribbon.
I’d like to close with a poem written by Lillian Arnold Lopez, Waretown’s first historian and Piney Lore Poet. As I shared before, Mary Bareford Hussong grew up here at the turn of the twentieth century. Mary loved talking about life in the old days. Lillian carefully transcribed Mary’s memories, turning them into a sweet, rhyming story-poem:
Mary’s Schooldays
Mary went to a one-room school; I liked to hear her tell
How her teacher kept the order by ringing of a bell.
One teacher taught the whole classroom, from first grade to the eighth,
And they started out each morning with an exercise of faith.
Classes were alternated, so each had to wait their turn,
But that didn’t seem confusing for those who were there to learn.
They spelled, read, wrote, and ciphered; they learned the alphabet.
When they spoke their recitations, the girls vied for “teacher’s pet.”
They wrote their lessons on a slate with chalk, for lack of paper,
And the teacher got the ruler out if someone cut a caper.
Then recess came, and they’d take turns at the water pail and share
One dipper. They shared germs, too, but nobody seemed to care.
Then, outdoors for a chance to play some games and run around,
Or line up at the little house out back of the school ground.
They liked to watch big girls lock arms to parade before big boys,
Who seemed more interested in rough games and making noise,
For they played “Pom, Pom, Pullaway” and games like “Run, Sheep, Run.”
Sometimes, it seemed to Mary like the boys had all the fun.
For girls were then expected to play a “little lady” game,
Like “Cat’s Cradle” or “Jackstones,” or others just as tame.
(Of course, they got their exercise when they got home again,
For all kids had their chores to do, like filling the woodbin.)
At noon, they’d take tin buckets down, to see how they would fare –
There’d always be cold biscuits, and all else their folks could spare.
In Wintertime, when they got cold, they’d have to stand before
The iron potbellied stove that stood in the middle of the floor.
In Spring, they would walk by the mill, to take the longer way,
But her teacher seldom scolded if it was a pleasant day.
Then, Mary would recite the verse of “Daisy Dunton’s Fall,”
As she had learned it eighty years before – remembering all.
And, tho’ it had dismayed her when it happened, she’d repeat
How the string broke on her petticoat, and it fluttered ‘round her feet.
“This is the happiest time of your life,” Mary said grownups would say,
And she did have happy mem’ries of her one-room schoolhouse days.
Mary went to a one-room school; I liked to hear her tell
How her teacher kept the order by ringing of a bell.
One teacher taught the whole classroom, from first grade to the eighth,
And they started out each morning with an exercise of faith.
Classes were alternated, so each had to wait their turn,
But that didn’t seem confusing for those who were there to learn.
They spelled, read, wrote, and ciphered; they learned the alphabet.
When they spoke their recitations, the girls vied for “teacher’s pet.”
They wrote their lessons on a slate with chalk, for lack of paper,
And the teacher got the ruler out if someone cut a caper.
Then recess came, and they’d take turns at the water pail and share
One dipper. They shared germs, too, but nobody seemed to care.
Then, outdoors for a chance to play some games and run around,
Or line up at the little house out back of the school ground.
They liked to watch big girls lock arms to parade before big boys,
Who seemed more interested in rough games and making noise,
For they played “Pom, Pom, Pullaway” and games like “Run, Sheep, Run.”
Sometimes, it seemed to Mary like the boys had all the fun.
For girls were then expected to play a “little lady” game,
Like “Cat’s Cradle” or “Jackstones,” or others just as tame.
(Of course, they got their exercise when they got home again,
For all kids had their chores to do, like filling the woodbin.)
At noon, they’d take tin buckets down, to see how they would fare –
There’d always be cold biscuits, and all else their folks could spare.
In Wintertime, when they got cold, they’d have to stand before
The iron potbellied stove that stood in the middle of the floor.
In Spring, they would walk by the mill, to take the longer way,
But her teacher seldom scolded if it was a pleasant day.
Then, Mary would recite the verse of “Daisy Dunton’s Fall,”
As she had learned it eighty years before – remembering all.
And, tho’ it had dismayed her when it happened, she’d repeat
How the string broke on her petticoat, and it fluttered ‘round her feet.
“This is the happiest time of your life,” Mary said grownups would say,
And she did have happy mem’ries of her one-room schoolhouse days.