Claudia Cross, 10, plays during recess at Big Tancook Island Elementary School on Big Tancook Island, N.S. on April 21, 2016. Claudia, who is in Grade 5, is one of two students who attend the isolated school.Darren Calabrese
Elizabeth Sutherland listened all day for the ding of a text message.
The principal and only teacher at Big Tancook Elementary School, a one-room schoolhouse on an island a 50-minute ferry ride from Chester, N.S., Ms. Sutherland's superintendent had promised to notify her right away once the regional school board voted on whether or not to close the school.
"My phone dinged and I looked down and I saw his name and I said, 'This is it.'"
This was not unfamiliar territory for Ms. Sutherland and Big Tancook. In a province where rural school boards face declining enrolment and rising maintenance costs, small community schools are closing all around Nova Scotia.
Big Tancook, which survived a review several years ago, was back on the chopping block because the school (Primary to Grade 5) has only two students, both of whom will attend class on the mainland in September. But with one student on the island ready to attend Grade Primary (kindergarten) and another, whose family moved to neighbouring Little Tancook Island from Toronto, ready to enter Grade 2, there was hope for a reprieve.
Hillary Dionne longed for a positive result.
She attended the school when her family moved to Big Tancook Island from a Boston suburb in 1978. After leaving to attend university, Ms. Dionne moved back to the island in 2000 to raise a family. Her husband works on the ferry and she operates a seasonal gallery/museum/library in the building that once housed her parents' general store. Both of her children attended the school.
Losing a school is often the final nail in the coffin of small communities, said Ms. Dionne, because it makes it so difficult to attract young families.
"I think that happens a lot in a lot of these little rural towns: They close the school and then eventually it's the death of the community," she said. "[The school] is a vital part of this community."
Fortunately for Ms. Dionne and her island community, they won't have to consider that possibility at least for the coming year; the message on Ms. Sutherland's phone brought good news: The South Shore Regional School Board vote last month was deadlocked, meaning the school would remain open.
It's easy to get caught up in the sentiment of a one-room school located on an island of 100 year-round residents, more than 300 if you count seasonal inhabitants. It's a romantic idea, after all – a windswept island and a teacher who makes the trip each day from Chester across sometimes choppy waters (or stays with friends on the island to avoid them).
But inside is like any other classroom: There are lots of books, artwork on the walls, math problems on a white board and tiny plastic chairs. There are computers, a smart board and a piano for music lessons taught by a volunteer on the island. (There's also a spot for Cooper the cat to nap whenever he decides to stop by for a visit, which, admittedly, probably doesn't happen in most schools.)
The school, which stands in fine condition, is also relatively inexpensive to maintain and operate, at $15,000 a year (not including the teacher's salary).
For Amanda McLean, whose son Carson is scheduled to enter Grade Primary, leaving the Halifax area to move to the island full time and take over her husband's family property made a lot of sense.
"I absolutely fell in love with it and I said, 'You know what, let's do what we can do to make this work.'"
Before having kids, she'd never have thought of living here. Now she sees it as a safe, quiet, unique place where her children can roam and have the ocean as their backyard.
As Carson got closer to school age, the threat of a closing worried her.
"I'm just unbelievably grateful that my kids are going to have the opportunity to get that type of education, even if it's just for a year or two – it's a great start, and they get to experience a piece of history."
For Ms. Sutherland, in her 33rd year at the school, the news meant another year at a place she's grown to love. She's come a long way from when she first applied for the job, had no idea where Big Tancook was and feared the ocean.
"My first reaction was, 'Oh my God, what did I get myself into?'"
What has developed, however, is a love affair between a teacher and a community. She's watched her students grow from childhood to adulthood and stays in touch with many of them. As class wraps up on a Friday afternoon, the two students have a hug and a goodbye for "Ms. S." before heading for home.
"I really like that aspect of it, that I get to know the kids really well," Ms. Sutherland said over a cup of green tea.
"They'll have a baby and they'll send me a picture of the baby."
There are also practical benefits to getting to know the kids so well because she can adapt to each student's needs.
"Once you learn the way a kid learns, then you can make your program out for that."
It's difficult to argue with the results. Most people would pay thousands of dollars for the teacher-to-student ratio of Big Tancook Elementary, and Ms. Sutherland has watched as students have gone on to achieve success in higher grade levels, with the vast majority carrying on to college or university.
She knows the time will come, even if the school remains open, when someone will have to replace her. At some point Ms. Sutherland would like to retire, to travel and perhaps write a book about her experience with the island. But not yet.
"It's going to break my heart when I leave here. And I know I have to; I can't teach forever."