The Church in the Woods

Many years ago, I started my dissertation research on Church of England missionaries in early America, using the vast collection of letters they sent to the home office in London. As I ruined my eyes reading their spidery handwriting (and on microfilm, groan!), I came to look forward to some writers in particular.

One old Scottish minister in Rhode Island, James Honyman, was wonderfully grumpy (even by the standards of the group.) Another favorite was Brian Hunt, who may have been just a teeny bit demented by the experience of being stuck out in the middle of the woods of South Carolina. And yet another was the compassionate Frenchman Francis Le Jau, whose anxiety over the treatment of slaves and wonderful descriptions were striking for the early 18th century.


After I moved to Georgia, I started tracking down what remains of the world these men inhabited. I practically wept when I walked in Charleston. Discovering the ruins of Brian Hunt's church on a backroad was awesome, and even more so was finding the chapel that was built while he was minister, which had survived while the village around it had simply melted away.

But Francis Le Jau's church, St.James at Goose Creek, SC had eluded me. Several years ago, I went looking for it: It wasn't on the map and the locals I asked seemed (honestly) to have never heard of it. The web yielded no info. When I got home, I contacted Dr. Betty Wood at Cambridge University, knowing that she and Dr. Sylvia Frey of Tulane had somehow found St. James. "Oh, I can't remember how we got there," Betty lamented. "It certainly wasn't easy." So I forgot all about it...

This weekend, having some business in Charleston, I arrived at my hotel. It was advertised as being in North Charleston, but it was actually in Goose Creek. It was already 5:30 p.m., but I got on the web, and this time, it yielded an address that was a five-minute drive from the hotel. I popped on my shoes, grabbed my GPS (called Emily, by the way) and jumped in the car.

Following Emily's directions, I passed over a small but beautiful river on the marshes, and turned right onto a heavily-wooded road. Emily announced that my final turn was on the right, I turned....And there was a double gate. My heart sank. Then I noticed that the chain wasn't tied. I parked the car right there, and pulled on the gates. I puhed on the gates. Nothing. I thought about squeezing myself through the gates, then imagined the embarrassment if I got stuck. Beyond the gate, there was a dirt road that disappeared into the woods...Was it wise to go there alone, even if I could get in? And then I realized that the gates weren't attached to a fence...

I squeezed around the gate, and nervously set off on the path, calling my husband on my cell phone in case I should be arrested or murdered. Seconds later, I came to a halt with a daft smile on my face. There it was, a small, dignified, and gorgeous Georgian church, in the classical style with shutters on the windows, and a bricked-in churchyard, surrounded by live oak trees dripping with Spanish moss.

No matter how much the church has been repainted, damaged by earthquake, and restored, it is still the church where LeJau preached, counseled, argued, and sweated. On a soupy South Carolina evening, I stood before it in awe, and alone, except for the cicadas. The road was yards away, but it wasn't busy on this Sunday evening. Only the squat ranch house a few yards from the church reminded me of when I was.

A house? Uh-oh. Time to scarper before I got in trouble. I snapped a shot with my cell phone, and retreated to my car. I was three miles away before I realized that I hadn't saved the photo, leaving me with the peculiar feeling that perhaps I had imagined it all.

My Letter to the Lumpkin County School Board About Catherine Ariemma

Doubtless, you have heard the news about the high schoolers in Georgia who dressed as KKK members to film a segment of their own movie about racism. Their teacher was briefly suspended. This is my response, which I sent to the school board.


Dear Mr. Self,

I am writing as a professional historian (I am a former tenured member of the Georgia Southern University history department, and was a faculty member of the Africana Studies program)and concerned Georgia resident.

I have read the news accounts about Catherine Ariemma's class, and would like to offer some brief observations.

I do not know Ms. Ariemma personally, but she is to be commended: First, for offering an innovative course in history and film, which has the power to engage students' imagination, and second, for creating an environment in which the students feel comfortable tackling some of the knottier issues in American history. Too many teachers take the easy route, and teach history as one long litany of names and dates. The end result (as I can attest, having taught more freshmen than I care to recall) is that students are bored, turned off, and unable to think for themselves.

When a teacher like Ms. Ariemma goes the extra mile, she also takes risks. In this case, may I suggest, she attracted the attention of individual kids for whom getting offended offered a way to attract attention to themselves, and to create a situation in which they could hold power over a teacher. The long history of racism in Georgia makes teachers especially nervous about tackling race in the classroom, but it is impossible to teach American history in any meaningful way without addressing race head on.

In my own college classes, I taught about lynching by using graphic photographs. My students understood my goodwill, and I never had any complaints--far from it. Students of all colors applauded my forthright approach. If a person passing in the hallway had taken offense, I am certain that the administration would have backed me up.

Is high school different? Yes, it probably is, and I don't mean that in a good way: History teachers, more than any other, need the protections of tenure to teach their subjects well. It would be nothing short of a tragedy if the overreaction we have witnessed were to translate into teachers like Ms. Catherine Ariemma deciding never to take risks in history teaching. Good teaching is all about taking risks.

Sincerely, Annette Laing,Ph.D.

http://www.annettelaing.com/
http://www.imaginativejourneys.org/

On The Road Again

As surely as God made little apples (as my dad says), school visit season gives way to book tour season, when I spend every weekend away from my nearest and dearest, unless I can persuade them to come with me, and act the Scholar Gypsy. Or maybe Author Gypsy.

I won't try to pretend I hate this. I love being on the road, collecting Hampton Inn points, trying out local eateries (not fine dining as a rule, but rather still in search of the best BBQ pork in the South...) Best of all, I really do enjoy sitting in bookstores and assailing innocent customers as they attempt to cruise by me, and giving them the book pitch. I don't feel in the least bit sleazy: My books are good, and they get kids excited about history. I have the courage of my convictions, and every sale is another planted seed.

The only hard part is trying to get bookstores to agree to let me--or any author who isn't super-famous--to take up corner space. Fortunately, Barnes and Noble in Columbus, GA and Jacksonville, FL, and The Book Worm in Powder Springs, GA, have all graciously hosted me during the past few weeks, and I have been delighted with my sales. Two last stops: This Saturday, May 15, at Park Road Books (Charlotte, NC) ad next Saturday, May 22 at Taylor Books in Charleston, WV. And then it's time for writing season. Even better. :-)

Real Life

This blog has been neglected of late, and how many times have you heard  that before? Much as I enjoy writing here, I am even more enamored of my new venture, Imaginative Journeys, a nonprofit I set up about six months ago to act as a formal structure for Camp Snipesville, the camp I created last summer.

I never thought I could top TimeShop, the kids "time travel" program I developed some years ago, but Camp Snipesville has done it. Instead of a scripted journey through themed rooms on one day in one place in history, we spend a week on a particular period and theme in American and/or British history. Every day has its own theme, every day is different, and our approach, while grounded in history, is multidisciplinary, with a particular emphasis on music and art. Lindsey Jenkins, a young local artist, is our art educator, and she does a fantastic job with the kids.

What I love about the program is that it requires less elaborate scheduling, less money (a good thing in this economy), and fewer--but more qualified--staff than did TimeShop, yet the children have an even better experience. Our relaxed timetable (but always with extra activities planned, just in case of downtime) allows us to lengthen or shorten activities depending on our needs. We have frequent short play breaks to ensure that the more active kids have a chance to blow off steam. And getting to know the kids over a week of shared play and experiences is a blast. For more on Camp Snipesville and Imaginative Journeys, please visit our new web site: It's a bit rough around the edges, but it gives you some idea of what we're about...

Big Times at Big Shanty

Had a great time today speaking at Big Shanty Intermediate School (you have to love a name like "Big Shanty." How cool is that?) I was there at the invitation of media specialist Barbara Powell-Schager, who four years ago created an annual event at the school called Authors' Night.

Lest there be confusion, I was not the author for Authors' Night: I was brought in ahead of time as Exhibit "A", an official author, but the authors of Authors' Night are the kids themselves. They produce a variety of creative projects, ranging from museum exhibits to cowboy journals (which they read around the campfire, dressed as cowboys.) Very, very impressive concept, and far more inspiring than tests and worksheets.

Giveaway (hurry!) and interview

The MotherDaughter Book Club blog currently features an interview with me and giveaway of copies of my books, which you can enter by posting a comment about where and when you would love to travel in time. But hurry: The deadline is tonight, Tuesday February 2.

Review of Don't Know Where, Don't Know When

Very nice review of my first book, Don't Know Where, Don't Know When at MotherDaughter Book Club.com's blog...