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| By Taylor Hellums |
In the heart of a sleepy town called Mt. Pleasant, lies a school. Down a small paved road, and into a gravel parking lot, there is a worn side walk. At the end of the walkway sits a modest, weathered, rock building. All around the building stand a variety of trees, strong and old as can be. The towering cedars and prickley pines cast a calm shadow over the schoolhouse, a relief from the sweltering heat of early August. A small ways ahead, set back a few steps from a tall, narrow arch, is a set of glass doors. The beaten building isn't a spectacular sight to behold, but rather an understated structure with many memories to it's name.
