UPSON COUNTY, GA - HISTORY Franklin Academy by Green, John Miles ***************** Copyright. All rights reserved. http://www.usgwarchives.net/copyright.htm http://www.usgwarchives.net/ga/gafiles.htm *********************** This file was contributed for use in the USGenWeb Archives by: Published in UHS Newsletter Sept-Oct 2000 This Account of Franklin Academy written by John Miles Greene. "This beginning and excerpt of my school life was over 60 years ago It was among the read hills of Middle Georgia, where the skies are bluer and air sweeter, and the scene of my boy hood and of the riper years of my man hood, with all their enduring associa tions, and there, in its sacred rail repose the ashes of my mother and father and other kindred. The old familiar school house, the humble, re-painted building where I learned my letters and began the ascent of the ancient hill of knowledge, rise up as clear and vivid as when reviewed in the first fresh hours of childhood. I see the chimney, one at each end of the long structure, I see the two doors in front and the glass sash of the two win dows beyond which I sat with boyish diligence and anxious heart and conned my lessons for the hour. I scan again the inside of the school house, with its long writing desks fastened to the walls of the building, and the long benches in the rear of them, each with its row of pupils facing the wall. There too still stands at the front the large post-oak with its scared trunk and tortuous stem, seated under which oft I took, my re past at noon. There also appears the spring that received its crystal waters from the hill side, with the chinquapin tree over-shadowing it, as when oft with my playmates I loitered there with boyish dalliance. There adjacent also is the solemn graveyard, where after life's fitful fever was over the first white settlers of the soil were laid to sleep. There comes up the recollection of the still loneliness of the locality of that schoolhouse. There was no beauty of grove or landscape to charm the eye, nor human habitation with its enlivening sights and sounds of rural industry to animate the mind. The founders of the school gave it the name of Franklin Academy. It was called after the American rage, the statesman of revolutionary fame, and the philosopher, who drew electricity down from the sky. Before the mind pass in retrospection the throngs of boys and girls, young men and gouty ladies who as pupils, attended the Academy. Those ere the days of republican simplicity of man ners and of homespun dress—noble manly were the bosoms that throbbed beneath the copperas roundabout, or the Jeans coat of homemade cloth. The faces that peered from under the fly bonnets were as sweet and fair as the buds and blossoms of the rose, as they peed out from their green hoods in summer. In the forefront, and the central figure in the picture of this dream of my child hood days is the master or teacher. He rises up in the memory as he was then, the same tidy and ever well-dressed person, of medium height, form slender, lithe and well-knit, complexion fair and blue, eyes blue, full and luminous, hair glossy black, with locks smooth and combed to the front over the ears, hands fair and soft, and finger nails of extreme whiteness, always kept sharp ened to a point. There was never a spec to be seen on his clothes, He was an Irishman and his name of Christopher Flanagan. It was said of him that he was educated for the office of a Roman Catholic priest. He had come to America, and for some reason had drifted to the South to engage in teachings school, he had the reputation of being a fine scholar and expert in the manage ment of youth. He was a rigid disciplinarian. There was no coaxing or per suading of pupils to proper behavior or to the learning of lessons. The com mand was given and the rod was em ployed to enforce obedience. True to his Irish nature he was bland in disposi tion and spoke in a smooth and easy tone of voice. He did not always punish with a switch, but sometime with the stroke of a rule on he hand or with his sharpened finger nails pinched and then boxed the ears of the culprit. These modes of punishment inflicted on his discipline the stigma or cruelty and tyr anny. To his credit it may be said that when he inflicted punishment upon a pupil he did not seem to be prompted to do it by a morose and irritable temper (as many teachers do) or by callous sensibilities, or for the love he bore to learning, but from a sense of his obliga tion as teacher to make the pupils leam their lessons and to observe good be havior. He required a reputation as a model teacher and taught not only in Georgia but also...in Alabama....