By Jessica Savage
Editor’s Note: Jessica Savage is the director of Programs and Strategic Initiatives at the Vermont Council on Rural Development
We almost missed the turn. Even though my GPS was telling me to take that right, it came up sooner than expected. The first thing I saw was a person standing outside a running excavator, looking at boulders and scraped earth, scratching his head in what I know to be a problem-solving stance. Was the machine stuck? Were the rocks not stacking up, right?
A little further on, we pulled into the Greenhouse in Reading. Rock walls, a long line of plants and greenhouses, and the best sight ever: a big black dog, the kind that could look scary, but you know it isn’t because he’s the Greenhouse dog. He came right up, accepted his scratches, and accompanied us inside. From the moment we stepped foot into this small town, people were friendly, curious, and excited. We were the VCRD team here on May 16 to facilitate a community conversation about the future of Reading.
Having facilitated or participated in community events in many of Vermont’s smallest towns over the years, I have come to expect a few things: people who know where to find needful things, people who are surprised and delighted to hear how far you have come to be there and people who want to carry things for you. In Reading, I found people who were ready to do all that and more, from making the food to setting up the chairs to signing people in: they had thought of everything it takes to host their neighbors in a fun and inviting atmosphere.
As the evening progressed and more people arrived, our co-hosts from the Reading Community Trust and the Future is Reading were obviously pleased.
Children were running in and out, grabbing cup after cup of lemonade (one boy filled his cup no less than five times in my observation, each time carefully sipping the overflowing liquid on his way to join his friends in the free childcare provided in the library: I worried about the effects on his bedtime routine!). A band of storms came through, and the huge and sudden puddles became an instant splash pad in the school parking lot, squeals and splashes of water the backdrop for our conversation.
The adults and some of the older youth warmed up to a visioning session and asked to imagine Reading in10, 20, or 50 years: what would it feel like to walk down Main Street? What values as a community would they share?
Almost immediately, people began discussing the school, the heart of their community. Their vision for the future centered on and included the school and a town where families could live affordably and well. As we moved in to dinner, parents and grandparents shared stories about the school, the wonderful arts teacher, and how people looked out for each other. Kids were under the watchful eye of adults, parents or not, and free to roam in ways I remember from my youth in the early eighties.
We moved into forum discussions on three topics: Keeping Youth and Families Engaged, Buildings and Infrastructure, and Economic Vitality. In each forum, residents identified assets, challenges, and opportunities for action. Some emerging themes, including youth engagement, community gathering spaces, childcare, and revitalizing local businesses, came up in each breakout session. As a facilitator, I was struck in the Economic Vitality session when one participant said, “How can we have economic vitality without the school?” Participants shared that being under a dark cloud of possible school closure is overwhelming their ability to imagine a vibrant future.
I left Reading in love: I am pining for this place, not because it’s any more or less special than other places, but because it left me wanting more. Yearning to have certainty that this town where families young and old support each other, where they can be free to dream up a Main Street with more than one business on it, where Trooper the Greenhouse dog can greet kids walking home from their local elementary school, that this place goes on and on.
Reading and so many other places wrestle with how to stay alive while their schools are in tenuous situations. Small towns and villages are asking how they can have affordable homes, enough children to fill their schools, and the right amount of community vitality to make it all possible. We have seen this in Windham, Roxbury, Gilman, and so many other places. At the Village Meet Up in Reading last week, a conference where people from small towns around Vermont gather to learn about what it takes to sustain their vitality, every single hand went up when I asked, “Is the conversation about school closures and the policy discussion around education transformation relevant to you?”
Back at the event in May, as I carried boxes to my car at the end of the night, kids were pouring into the parking lot on bikes, in rain boots, and barefoot—a murmuration of chaos and delight. And just like that, they were gone, swooped up into the evening by adults calling them home.
Weeks later, and I’m still thinking of Reading. I am so glad they have local groups like the Reading Community Trust and The Future is Reading which are going to work together with the community to bring many of the ideas we heard about to action. VCRD, the Preservation Trust of Vermont, and the Vermont Community Foundation, through our Village Trust Initiative, stand ready to support them in what comes next.
I am lucky that my work allows me to see what becomes possible when we center youth and community voices, identify collaborative local leadership, and couple that with external partners and resources for all of our small towns. Can we collectively bet on our smallest towns as we debate and change our educational funding system? VCRD already is, and I implore our state leaders to do the same.
