MANNERS & MORALS: Wilderness School

One day last summer George Wolfe and his wife sat down for a serious talk in their home in the suburbs of Lewiston, Idaho (pop. 15,000). Subject: the education of their seven children, aged 5 to 14. The Wolfes were worried: it was bad enough that daughter Sharon (12), when asked to name the continent she lived on, replied that she did not even know what a continent was; the rest of the children were not making much progress either. Besides, the Wolfes were concerned that most parents in their neighborhood seemed to be losing control over their children. “Take our Davy [11],” said Reho Wolfe, 42. “He got so he wouldn’t do his lessons, he wouldn’t practice violin, he just begged off more and more. We didn’t know how long it would be before we were losing control of our children too.”

The parents made their decision. George Wolfe, 54, a storekeeper for the Camas Prairie Railroad, packed his family off to a log cabin on an abandoned gold-mining claim in the isolated, rugged Salmon River Canyon, 80 miles from the nearest high school, eight miles by rubber raft from the nearest road. There Reho Wolfe, who once attended a normal school, set up a school-within-a-home, arranged for texts, lessons and tests through a correspondence course. Wolfe, a high school graduate, who has had music training, continued his job in Lewiston, commuted to the cabin on weekends, when he gave the children their music lessons. Between schooling and chores, the children were introduced to the “liberal education” in the bright, challenging wilderness outside their cabin door. They rode horses, fished, watched wild animals, learned names of plants and trees, collected driftwood.

But then, the district school board stepped in, signed a criminal complaint charging Mrs. Wolfe with contributing to the delinquency of minors by making her children truants. The Wolfes politely turned down a request that they return the children to school, so last week the board met to take action. The law, in strictest letter, was on the board’s side, yet from District Prosecutor Wayne MacGregor Jr.—supported by State Attorney General Graydon Smith—came an unexpected defense. Asked MacGregor: “May a person of school age no longer reside in a locality of his own choosing unless it is within walking distance of a school or is served by a school bus?” If the children could not get to school from a log cabin many miles away, “must the sanctity of the home be invaded?” No, MacGregor insisted. And the board reluctantly agreed to drop the charges.

Grateful for this support, the Wolfes resumed their task. Davy was delighted, piped, “Going to school like this is fun.” Said twelve-year-old Sharon: “He even likes to practice the violin now.”