May 12, 2003

With these words, MorningSong begins. About eighty of us sit in a loose semi-circle of chairs, under tall rafters and before a large, stone fireplace. It’s a massive yet warm room, one that lives up to the welcoming nature of the John C. Campbell Folk School, a place where possibilities feel endless. Indeed, I had felt as free as the little bird in the song from the moment I stepped onto the property.

“One thing we do know from stats is we know you’ll come back,” Jan Davidson, director of the school, tells the room of eager students. This makes perfect sense to me, as I’m already trying to figure out a way to either stay or return in the future. I’ve come to the John C. Campbell Folk School as a visitor this morning and am envious of those who’ll be staying for a full week of classes and mountain life.

Jan sets the banjo he used to accompany the folk song aside and leans forward toward the audience. I wrap my hands around a warm cup of coffee and lean back to listen to him explain the history and philosophy of the school. He’s a master storyteller, and the room is filled often with laughter.

John C. Campbell never saw the school that bears his name, but it’s a living legacy of his life. Born in Indiana and raised in Wisconsin, he traveled through the Appalachian area, where he was impressed with the local people, who he found to be living a life of their own making. Blankets were from local fibers and chairs offered to visitors were hand crafted. Evenings were spent entertaining themselves, with singing and storytelling.

With humanitarian goals that included improving rural education, he worked very hard and eventually became ill. His doctor advised him to take some time off. “There was a real doctor,” Jan says to a round of laughter.

Taking his doctor’s advice, John C. Campbell sailed to Scotland, meeting Olive Dame, a New Englander, on the way. It was love at first sight and they went on to Scotland together. They returned to the U.S. to do educational research and look at ways to improve the quality of rural life.

In order to focus completely on this goal, John C. Campbell quit his job. “This is one of the reasons he’s our hero,” Jan adds, to more laughter from the morning group.

Using a wagon as a traveling home, John and Olive Dame roamed the Appalachian mountains, studying songs, crafts and farming techniques of the local people. Based on the philosophy of the Danish folkehojskole (folk school), they sought to establish a place of learning that would be non-competitive and non-vocational, as an option to institutions of higher learning that often took people away from the family farms.

John again became ill and in May of 1919, at the age of 51, he died. Olive continued on, taking her sister, Daisy, and friend Margarite Butler to Denmark to visit folk schools. Combining what they learned there, as well as in Sweden and Norway, they came back to the states and sought a location to form the school that had been John C. Campbell’s dream. Finding community support in Murphy, NC, the school was founded in nearby Brasstown in 1925.

The morning gathering lets out and Jan invites me to have breakfast with students and teachers before visiting classes. Having grabbed only a cup of coffee in my small off-campus cabin, in order to make the 7:45AM MorningSong session, I readily accept. Over steaming hot cakes, sausage and chilled orange juice, I listen to the excited anticipation of the lucky students who’ll be staying for the entire session. Just like every other aspect of the folk school, meals are family-style and community-oriented in spirit. I gratefully inhale the hot meal, take my dishes to the kitchen’s bus station, and head out to observe classes.

My first stop is just outside the dining hall’s door, where students circle a section of ground in the garden. Strings and stakes mark an area that will, by the end of the week, be a waterfall and fishpond. Instructor Tim Ryan and students discuss the project, which will use native stones and rubber lining.

I continue along one of many wooded nature paths and arrive at a building that houses three more classes, stepping into the first.

“Always participate,” Gulshan Singh tells the students of her Northern Indian Cuisine class. “Remember this is your class, and you want to really learn.”

A tray of cumin seeds is passed across the room by one of the students, on its way to be toasted in the oven. Another student asks how they will know when it’s done.

“They will start jumping. They’ll tell you when they are ready to get out.” The instructor offers some additional advice, telling students she highly recommends they take notes. “I am from India,” she says. “I may not say things the way you do.”

As I prepare to move on to observe another class, I pass an easel with a recipe for Chapati Dough, written out by Nanette Davidson, who is assisting the class. Gulshan Singh is explaining the nature of ghee, a boiled butter commonly used in Indian cooking.

“I’ll make you taste today one bread with ghee and one bread with oil. And you will decide.” She looks around the island counters at her students and smiles. “I love the bread with ghee.”

I slip out the door quietly and walk around to another room, entering as Tim Tyndall is answering questions about soap-making. The discussion covers chemical changes, hydrolysis and safety precautions.

“Never, ever, ever pour water into lye,” Tim, who’s affectionately referred to as Dr. T., says. “Don’t be unduly scared of using lye, but take necessary precautions.” He continues to detail a few stories of personal experiences that leave me half in awe and half ready to run for cover. One involves an early experience of his, as a chemistry instructor, when he foolishly did some work in sandals, no socks on his bare feet. Another involves the effects of lye on a one by one inch piece of chicken breast, a demonstration he uses on occasion for students. Fortunately, his toes fared better than the chicken breast, but I still left with a strange desire to wash myself down with white vinegar, a neutralizing agent.

Like many folk school instructors, Tim Tyndall has other projects going when not offering classes. His Blue Ridge Soap Shed, in Little Switzerland, NC, offers 110 varieties of soap. And no safety precautions are needed to visit at http://www.soapshed.com.

I move on as Tim gives students a short break, finding an outdoor stairway that takes me upstairs to a light, spacious room with a gorgeous hardwood floor. To one side, a handful of students balance banjos on their knees and listen attentively to J.D. Robinson lead a sight reading exercise. A question and answer period follows.

“What’s higher than third string open?” J.D. tosses out to the class, then continues on. “Third string, second fret.” Relaxed in pony tail and baseball cap, he’s clearly both comfortable with students and knowledgeable about class content. His students are clearly eager to learn. Perhaps looking forward to the banjo jokes included in the school’s description of the course, as well as new licks, rolls and songs.

Twangs and rattles fill the room as students adjust banjo tunings. This class, “Continuing 5-String Banjo: 3 Finger Style” is just one of many music courses offered.

As a discussion of pick up notes begins (Oh Susanna has two, Tom Dooley has none), I leave and head up to the History Center, packed with exhibits and information on Appalachian life during the 1900’s.

From there, I drop back through the dining hall in time for another delicious meal – this time a lunch of pasta alfredo, caesar salad and fresh, warm bread, accompanied with iced tea. I’m fortunate to be seated at a table with many of the instructors, including Robert Triplett, who’s teaching a “Fountains From Copper & Fire” metalworking class, Paul McClure, who’s offering a wire-crafted jewelry session, and Charley Orlando, who teaches both blacksmithing and knitting, this week holding a class in forge welding. Both Tim Ryan, on break from pond-building and “Dr. T”, without scary lye stories, join in. It is clear to me from this meal, as well as from observing in class areas, how remarkable an educational experience the folk school provides.

I make one last stop, at the Craft Shop, where I find an amazing assortment of hand crafted items from local and regional artists, including many of the school’s instructors. Filled with pottery, weaving, glasswork, jewelry, woodwork and an excellent selection of books, I know immediately I won’t get out without a few purchases. Narrowing my choices down – an extremely difficult task, based on the quality and variety of goods the shop carries – I finally purchase a small, carved wooden rabbit, four assorted carved napkin rings in animal shapes, a small ceramic vase, several bookmark dolls made of straw and a fabulous blank journal with pages that are half-lined and half blank. Enchanted with dozens of other items I’m leaving behind, I’m pleased to find out that phone orders are welcome.

Before leaving, I thank Jan for the opportunity to visit the school, and especially for the wonderful hospitality. This is nothing unusual at John C. Campbell Folk School, where day visitors are just as welcome as those enrolled in classes. Over 380 acres of grounds provide nature trails for wandering, surrounded by breathtaking mountain scenery. The History Center is available for self-guided learning and the Craft Shop is open from 8:00-5:00 Monday through Saturday and from 1:00-5:00 on Sundays.

Classes run on a weekly basis, beginning with an orientation session on Sunday and ending with farewells on the following Saturday. The catalog of offerings, also available online, shows such a wide variety of offerings, it would be almost impossible to not find something of interest. Stained glass-making, bookbinding, artisan bread baking, fiction writing, storytelling, printmaking, fly fishing, gourd painting, herbal facials, mixed-media collage, scrimshaw, nature photography, dance calling, corn husk dolls: it’s all offered. Looking to make an old fashioned apple pie? Ladderback chair? Chocolate truffles? Glass beads? Metal flowers? It’s all offered here.

Children between the ages of 7-17 are welcome during a special “Little/Middle Folk School” session, held in the summer. Adult classes are held at the same time, so other family members can join in. For parents and children aged 12-17 who wish to take classes together, the “Intergenerational Week” session provides this opportunity.

The folk school is a 501(c)(3) not for profit corporation and maintains small class sizes with remarkably low tuition. Room and board is available for an additional fee. Elderhostel, work/study, student host and scholarship programs are also available on a limited basis. Community gatherings are also offered, including concerts, dances, festivals and auctions.

John C. Campbell would be proud to see the blend of artistry, tradition, history and community that lives on at the folk school. A close look at what goes on here can only lead to one simple phrase: Sign me up.