Fruita Schoolhouse

Class size in the one-room schoolhouse ranged from 8-22 students, from 1st to 8th grades.

NPS

Quick Facts

Location:

Fruita District

Significance:

One-room Schoolhouse

Designation:

National Register of Historic Places, 1972

Amenities

4 listed

Audio Description, Historical/Interpretive Information/Exhibits, Parking - Auto, Scenic View/Photo Spot

The Fruita Schoolhouse, sometimes called the Fruita Grade School, was used by the Fruita community from 1896-1941. The first teacher, Nettie Behunin, was just 12 years old. 

By 1941, there were not enough students to keep the school open, and it closed. The National Park Service nominated the school to the National Register of Historic Places, and it was restored to its 1930s appearance in 1989. 

Learn more about the schoolhouse, as well was the community of Fruita. Listen to Janice Oldroyd Torgerson, who taught at the Fruita Schoolhouse in 1934, or read the transcript.

• Janice Torgerson

  
  

  Being a new teacher at the Fruita schoolhouse wasn’t always easy, as Janice Oldroyd Torgerson reflects on her year teaching in 1934. She was paid $57 a month and moved from her home in Lyman, to live at ‘Tine Olyer’s home. Torgerson describes pranks by her students as well as moonlit walks among the Fruita cliffs.
  Audio Transcript

  My name is Janice Oldroyd Torgerson. And I taught here in 1934 as a brand new teacher. I was a native of Wayne County, but Fruita was a rough 25-mile drive from my parent’s home in Lyman. I received $57 a month for a seven-month contract and boarded at ‘Tine Oyler’s home here in Fruita. There was no electricity or indoor plumbing, but Fruita was beautiful. Across the dusty road, were row upon row of grapes, bordered by huge walnut trees. On moonlit nights, the majestic red cliffs seemed gentle and protective.

  The school building was badly in need of repair and mud was falling from between the logs. We had only a few old, ragged books. Like many rural children of the day, some of my students were pretty rough-and-tumble. The language I heard was too rugged for me, and I came down hard on that. Then there were the inevitable tricks. One morning I received a dead snake, coiled menacingly on my chair.

  I gathered some gentle recollections, too. I especially remember the happy faces of young Lloyd and Fay Gifford, when they gave me a handkerchief at Christmas. It was a pretty rough year for a new teacher, and frankly I was relieved as school end drew near. The folks at Fruita gave me a surprise party the last evening before I left. The Mulfords and Giffords came with food; we played games and danced in the Oyler’s crowded living room. By noon the next day, I was on my way home. Just before Fruita disappeared from view, I stopped, sat down on a rock, and thought about the eventful year just past. I found a lot of happy memories while sitting there, and cried a little, knowing it was over.