A Brave Decision
An excerpt from "Margaret Bancroft: A Teacher with a Dream"
Miss Bancroft boldly announced to the school board that she would not return in the fall. The board members tried to convince her to stay. One man declared that it was selfish for such a talented teacher not to use her energy to teach children who, in his opinion, were more worthwhile.
Miss Bancroft stood firm. In a commanding voice she told the board members of her strong and devoted belief in the ability of every child to learn, and in the responsibility of educators and doctors to find out everything they could about all types of children. Special children must have special schools, she said, with well-trained teachers who used materials adapted to those children's capabilities. They should not be abandoned to state institutions where conditions were appallingly inhumane.
When Miss Bancroft finished you could hear a pin drop. The silence was broken by timid good wishes that increased in sincerity. They knew it would do no good to try to change her mind, and they could not help but admire her ambitions.
The school-board members, especially the board president, Dr. Keen, had always noticed Miss Bancroft's deep interest in children who were different, and he saw how they had progressed under her care. He talked to her later and agreed that she could start her own school. "You can do it because you are a caring and talented teacher," he said. "I'll send students to you who need your special help."
Many other people thought that Margaret Bancroft was foolish in trying to start her own school, but nothing could change her mind. She was encouraged by recalling what her parents had often told her: "It's easy to do a good thing when people agree with you, but it takes a lot of courage and determination to do a good thing alone."
Miss Bancroft was ready to begin, but she knew she could not be selfish and think only of her own interests. Her parents were now completely dependent on her for their home, so she had to find a house that would suit the needs of both the school and her family — a place more like a home than a school. It had to be in a town where people would be kind enough to welcome a school and a home for “backward” children. It had to be in a beautiful spot with flowers and trees, and plenty of room for children to play. It also had to be near enough to Philadelphia to be convenient to doctors and other knowledgeable people who could give her advice.
Someone told Miss Bancroft about Haddonfield, New Jersey, describing it as a quiet and lovely place. When she went to see the town for herself, she found that it indeed answered all her needs. The town provided shops, theaters, libraries, art galleries, and many other places of interest, all within walking distance.
Haddonfield was only eight miles from Philadelphia. It offered the perfect combination of the peace and beauty of the country with many modern conveniences of the city that could benefit the school. Pipes had been laid recently to supply running water. Poles and wires carried electricity, and there was talk of paving the streets.
Haddonfield was a wise choice because the people there were kind and the officials liked her idea of a special school. Miss Bancroft did not have enough money to buy a house, but she was able to rent one. It was small, yet it would do for a beginning.
Soon her parents were settled in, and now she began to focus on enrolling students. It would not be an easy task.
Miss Bancroft went to two friends who were also well-known physicians, Dr. S. Weir Mitchell, the famous neurologist and author, and Dr. W. W. Keen, Philadelphia's leading surgeon and the school-board president.
By this time, Dr. Mitchell knew Miss Bancroft well. He had seen that her new ways of teaching and making the children feel loved made a wonderful change in them. Dr. Mitchell also knew that Miss Bancroft could not begin her school if she did not have money.
He told her of a family in New York who would be willing to pay her if she would accept their daughter as her first boarding student. He knew other wealthy families from Philadelphia who would also be willing to pay. Some people believe that if it had not been for the friendship of these two doctors, this generous lady may not have been able to begin The Bancroft School.
Miss Bancroft was eager to tell her father what the doctors had to say, because Poppa had argued against her plans. He worried about money and whether there would be enough students. But the doctors' opinions did not impress him. He actually forbade her to use her last four dollars for the trip to New York where she planned to meet her first student. “That four dollars,” Poppa said, “must be used to pay for a barrel of flour.” He refused to talk about it any longer.
Miss Bancroft respected her father, but decided to have her own way. At three o’clock the next morning, she dressed silently in the dark, took the precious four dollars from its hiding place in the iron coffee-pot, and quietly left the house. She didn't mind the long and cold eight-mile walk through the dark winter morning. She knew exactly where to catch the milk train at the Haddon Avenue Station in Camden that would take her to New York. The train ride seemed uncomfortably long as the eager and confident young teacher impatiently stared out the window and thought about her precious school.
She no sooner stepped off the train than she was greeted by a fine gentleman who introduced himself as Cora's father. A waiting carriage took Miss Bancroft to the girl's home, where she could become acquainted with the child and learn more from the mother. The girl's parents were impressed by Miss Bancroft's firm, gentle manner and were comforted to see a friendly relationship quickly developing between their daughter and her teacher.
Miss Bancroft's confidence finally affirmed their decision. They said their farewells and the two were on their way. Imagine Momma and Poppa's surprise when she returned home the next day with Cora, her first student. Momma was the first to see them as she looked out the window. She immediately called to Poppa. “Looks who's coming,” she said.
The sight of the two of them walking toward the house aroused unsettled feelings. Momma could sense Maggie's satisfaction in her contented expression and leisurely stroll as she tenderly held the child's hand. The girl was so small and forlorn looking. Her head was bent down looking at her feet, as though she was accountable for every step she took. Her fine clothing did little to hide her awkwardness. Poppa musingly watched while Momma helped Cora off with her coat.