April 2011 editorial: A ‘refreshing’ irony for local history

 

By Brian Lee

Once in a while I get accused of being overly nostalgic in this column about "the way things used to be." As one who appreciates where this place came from and misses some of the elements of its past, it’s hard not to be sometimes. If you take the time to learn about something — its past, its character and those qualities that make it unique — you automatically become protective.

Fostering an appreciation for what came before through the preservation of historical artifacts is not only a gift each generation can pass on to the next, it is a responsibility. And so its significance is magnified when that history is personal, local.

So, right now, I’m sure there are some who could be accused of being overly nostalgic for their sadness in seeing the demolition of the Madeira Park Teacherage. It’s hard to argue with the sentiment.

The building may have been the first home in Madeira Park, likely built in the first half of the 1930s. It later became the first school in town, acquiring the persistent nickname of the "Teacherage" because it later became the home for arriving teachers in the late 1940s. Since then it has been used for any number of uses: janitors’ quarters, storage, community school — I even attended kindergarten there.

My first school memory was of Denise Mackay (who also happened to be one of the first teachers who taught and lived there in 1948) administering a test in the small classroom to see if I was intellectually capable of undergoing the rigours of kindergarten. The test consisted of making a bridge out of three blocks so a toy car could pass under. I recall I aced it — blocks and toy cars were pretty much all I did back then.

But that’s as far as my nostalgia for the Teacherage takes me — I’m happy it’s gone. I’m not really that callous — I just happen to know it was standing in the way of something that promises to be much better (see p. 5). Sometimes an excessive reverance for history becomes impractical and obstructive.

It was an old, rotten shack with ferns growing through its roof and its demolition may pave the way for some exciting possibilities that will further the preservation of the area’s heritage. Hopefully, the site will become a cornerstone of the community, perhaps as a museum and archives. There are many other possibilities but we’ll have to wait and see.

In the meantime, I’m excited about the potential for what lies ahead.

I think of Peter C. Newman’s quote:

"History is no more than memories refreshed."

I look forward to helping build a place to keep them refreshed.