A few weeks ago I was visiting my dad in Southside Virginia, and I got a call from my Aunt Ann, who lives nearby. While organizing family photos during the pandemic, she had found some of the diaries kept by her paternal grandfather back when he was a teacher at the turn of the twentieth century. She thought I might find them interesting. She thought right. 

George Roy Crumrine (1878-1962), was a farmer most of his life. Mr. Crumrine (known to his family and friends as G Roy [no affiliation with G-Unit]) studied violin for two winters at Oberlin University, pivoting later to agriculture studies at (The?) Ohio State University, where he would earn a bachelor’s degree, participate in ROTC, and become friends with fellow student and Ohio resident Charles F. Kettering, one of the most notable American inventors of the twentieth century (and also someone who spent a few years teaching before settling on another career).

For most of his life, five-foot-five Crumrine walked with a peg leg that was the result of an infection he contracted in his early twenties from a butchered cow on the family farm —  tuberculosis of the bone, the family says. Whatever it was, they amputated the leg right there on the kitchen table, as you did back then. He had a shoed peg leg for formal occasions, the other shoe belonging to a fellow amputee who lived thirty miles away with an opposite leg missing.

He was a career farmer on a three-hundred acre concern a few miles from the town of Ruggles. It was the usual fare: livestock, crops. He believed Minorca chicken eggs were the wave of the future. With his wife Mary he raised a family of four sons, all of whom served during World War II, all of whom agreed that their drill sergeants in basic training reminded them of less severe versions of their dad. 

Before he had a family, before he was married, before he went to Ohio State, before he lost a leg, George Crumrine was a teacher, for about two years from 1898 to 1900. These were years 20-22 for Mr. Crumrine. In those days passing a competency exam was all that was required to become a teacher, no college education required. In fact, my aunt Anne’s maternal grandmother became an Ohio school teacher around the same era when she was only 15. She had to quit, however, due to classroom management issues.

Diary Commencing

January 19th 1899 and Ending

February 17th, 1899.

Thursday, Jan 19th, 1899

Arose about 5-20 A.M. went out helped do the chores came in for breakfast at 6- 10 had breakfast carried in wood and started for the school house to make fire at 6 – 30 made fire got back at 7 – 20 and at practising after making a litter at 7-33 A.M. practised till 8-5 quit put away the violin went up stairs made my bed got ready for school came down and started at 8 – 22 then at school at 8-35 and rang first bells at 8-37 – or  7 min late. Opened up [surf???] off a little and carried wood up on the porch and [illegible] school at 9-6 or 6 min late. Only 6 scholars were present but

Mr. Crumrine held court at the Ruggles Township School at the crossroad of Route 224 and 250. In the one-room red brick schoolhouse he taught every subject, from singing to spelling, teaching students (in the diary he refers to them as “scholars”) up to the eighth grade level, the age at which Ohio tried to educate all of its citizens. 

I’m not sure why he kept the diary, which is beautifully handwritten, tersely worded with little emotion, precise and mundane as a captain’s log. I imagine he kept it for the same reason I kept a work journal during my first year of teaching, partly to aid reflection and revision, partly to relieve nerves. 

Most jobs undergo a certain amount of evolution over a span of one hundred and twenty years. There is plenty described in Mr. Crumrine’s diary that bears no resemblance to my job as a public school teacher in the 21st century. 

But that’s not to say everything was anachronistic. I instantly identified with G Roy’s task of teaching a diverse mix of content and levels in one classroom. My first teaching job was at an alternative school, and my classes sometimes had a mix of students needing instruction of ninth through twelfth grade curriculum. I only taught English. I did not teach singing, and I don’t recall the ink freezing, or ever lighting a fire in my classroom. (There was one January day in 2015 when the heating system for our wing of the school failed, the temperature dipped into the low 40s, and my class huddled around a space heater for warmth.) 

As Thursday was so cold, the rest could hardly come. Heard all the classes to be heard but writing and not that account frozen ink and out for recess at 10-53 or 23 minutes late. Gave them 15 min recess call school again at 11-8 or 23 min late. Had fixed fire and tried to get things warmed up at recess. Heard all the classes to be heard but the A. Spelling class and out for non at 12 -17 or 17 min late. Gave them 50 minutes noon during which I ate my dinner slept after which fixed fire, went out, carried several armfuls of wood upon porch combed my hair and called school again 1-7 PM or 7 min late. Heard all the classes to be heard but singing, and not that because not enough of us to sing well, out for recess at 2-50 or 20 minu late. Gave them 20 min recess during which I read in “Pathfinder,” and slept called school again at 3-10 or 25 min late. Heard all the classes to be heard. 

I also identified with G Roy’s daily need to improvise to best serve his students. It’s probably the biggest skill required of a successful teacher, the ability to assess the class — both in the moment and afterward — and adjust the instruction accordingly. Mr. Crumrine did that every day based on the number of students who showed up to class, and the ages of the students. Despite his rigid German disposition, this unpredictability didn’t fluster him. (Or, if it did, he didn’t mention it in his diary.) Probably because daily life was a less assured back then. The act of getting students to school wasn’t something to take for granted during harsh Ohio winters when students commuted on foot or via horse and buggy.  

Monday,  February 13th, 1899.

Arose at 5 – 5 A.M. dressed and [illegible] out helped do chores came in for breakfast about 6 A.M. Had it then got wood in the house and down cellar, got a pail to carry ashes in and brought a pail of water and came down to the school house to make fire at 7 – 5. Sifted some ashes, made fire, [illegible] around stove a little, carried up wood on the porch and went for home, arriving at 7-40. Washed face and hands [illegible] up stairs made my bed and got ready for school starting at 8 – 5. Arrived there opened up a couple windows shoveled snow off the porch had fixed the fire, came in and laid down on the recitation bench and slept a bit, got in some fire dry wood to put under the stove to dry for making fires with and called school at 9 AM on time. Only 3 scholars

Mr. Crumrine also seemed to have an understanding beyond his years of the need for sufficient rest. He woke up before dawn to help with chores on the farm, but he always seemed to make time for a nap, often on the recitation bench (wonder what the sleep number on that thing was?). Again, this behavior seems to run counter to that go-go-go protestant work ethic, and again I think this is worth highlighting and applauding. I’ve worked with a lot of teachers, especially those at the beginning of their careers, who let the stress of the job –planning, grading — disrupt their ability to get enough rest. A lack of sleep impairs everything. G Roy understood this, and he rested up in the schoolhouse, sometimes in the morning before the students arrived, sometimes while they were out at recess.    

After two years of teaching, he would go to college, and subsequently devote the rest of his life to farming and raising his family, living just long enough to watch John Glenn blast into orbit on February 20, 1962, but not long enough to see him return to earth four hours later. 

The farm remains in the Crumrine family. The schoolhouse, however, was demolished sometime after 1903, when the county voted to centralize and open a larger school.