Memories and Milestones: Reflecting on My Time at Bates Elementary School

 By Steven Wade Veatch

My elementary school opened in 1957, three years after I was born, with over 600 students attending. With a magnificent view of Pikes Peak from its front yard, the grade school was named for Katharine Lee Bates, the famous author of America the Beautiful. Bates Elementary School remained open for 56 years, a pillar in the Cragmoor subdivision of Colorado Springs. 

Figure 1. A sandstone sign marks the location of Bates Elementary school.
Photo date 3/2015, by S. W. Veatch.

I recently learned that the aging of the neighborhood, school district boundary changes, and competition from charter schools caused enrollment to fall to 200 students, forcing Bates to close in 2013. I wanted to see my school one last time, so I pulled into the parking lot on a brisk spring day, two years after Bates closed. Austin Bluffs Parkway, roaring with traffic, ran like a ribbon of sound behind the school. The rapidly growing University of Colorado at Colorado Springs (UCCS) had gobbled up the land next to my little school. 

Figure 2. A view of Rattlesnake Bluff, UCCS student housing,
and, in the foreground, Bates Elementary School.
Photo date 3/2015 by S. W. Veatch. 

As I stood looking at this old building, an easterly wind sent leaves spinning across the broken pavement. I walked around the tired buildings. A silent, rusting school bell clung to a brick wall. Children’s voices had long since faded into time’s dark abyss. Afternoon clouds gathered, casting blue shadows. The day frowned.

Figure 3. The school bell no longer rings to call students to class.
Photo date 3/2015 by S. W. Veatch.

I caught my reflection in a school window. My image looked sad. Sixty years ago, I played outside on these school grounds. I became aware that so many years had evaporated in an instant. 

A notice, taped to the window, stated that the school district had sold the elementary school to UCCS. The university had scheduled the school for demolition to make way for more student housing. An architectural design, taped next to the notice, revealed this proposed development. 

Figure 4. Front view of Bates Elementary School.
Photo date 3/2015 by S. W. Veatch.

The sounds of the university’s expansion broke into my thoughts. I could hear pounding jackhammers and nails, whining electric saws, rumbling cement mixers, and workers smacking down bricks—one on top of the other. Despite this noise of change, a kaleidoscope of flashbacks emerged in my mind: homework, Big Chief tablets, Elmer’s Glue, sharp pencils, playing four-square during recess, playground banter, Christmas programs, carnivals, and Boy Scout meetings. The monkey bars, the same ones I climbed so many years ago, were still standing there. 

Figure 5. UCCS looms large behind the lonely monkey bars
on the Bates school grounds. Photo date 3/2015 by S. W. Veatch. 

I continued around the back of the building to peer into the classrooms. More recollections materialized from mental shadows, including memories of my fourth grade in 1963. Mrs. Paula Hurst taught that class. Mrs. Hurst graduated from Colorado College in 1959, and she came with four years of teaching experience when I started in her class. I remember learning that year about three kinds of rocks: igneous, metamorphic, and sedimentary. Little did I know how relevant that would be in the future. We also worked on a unit on Colorado history and practiced cursive writing. Mrs. Hurst carefully taught the basics of our government while we considered President Kennedy and the changes he made. 

Other freeze frame moments from 1963—this time, from my long-ago home—spiraled into my consciousness. I remembered that Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom with Marlin Perkins debuted on NBC, and how my family gathered around the television and watched each episode. The Beatles released I Want to Hold Your Hand and I Saw Her Standing There. My parents did not like any of their music and believed the Beatles would corrupt American youth. Peter, Paul, and Mary’s Puff (The Magic Dragon) climbed to the number two spot on the music charts. My parents like their music, and the song became one of my favorites. 

I didn’t know it at the time, but in a few years my country would experience much civil unrest. While the cries of Martin Luther King Jr. and others were seldom heard inside the Bates hallways, they permeated our homes and the conversations of classmates when our teachers’ backs were turned. 

I remember some of the political issues from 1963. George C. Wallace, a man my parents talked about after the evening news, became governor of Alabama. As I grew up, I learned about a speech he made when he became governor: “Segregation now; segregation tomorrow; segregation forever!” On June 11, Governor Wallace tried to prevent Black students from registering at the University of Alabama. On the same day, President Kennedy declared segregation to be morally wrong, and it is "time to act.” Martin Luther King Jr., on August 28, delivered his “I Have a Dream” speech at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington DC. A few weeks later, four Black girls died in a church bombing in Birmingham, Alabama. 

One recollection of my fourth grade at Bates Elementary School stands out the most: President John F. Kennedy’s assassination on Friday, November 22, 1963. I was home that day with a cold. I heard my mother doing her daily rounds of household chores until the phone rang. Several minutes later: she walked into my room; her face was grim.  She said, “Stevie, your grandfather called. He said someone shot the President Kennedy in Texas. We should watch the news.”  We both went to the living room and turned on the Admiral black and white television console. Walter Cronkite, looking somber, announced that President Kennedy had died at 1 p.m. Central Standard Time.  

Days of continuous television coverage followed that first news bulletin. I did not understand then this President’s violent death that day robbed our nation of a future we will never know. 

To think about Kennedy’s assassination 52 years later is to see how I reacted to the death of someone I learned about in school, a person my parents talked about. It was the first national crisis I experienced, and it cemented my interest in current events. 

Time has a way of moving on. Mrs. Hurst retired from teaching in 1982, ten years after I graduated from high school. I retired in 2011. I remember, back at Bates school, in the fourth grade, I wished to grow up right then. Looking back now, I see that my wish came true, I grew up fast, quicker than I thought possible. Time had passed in an instant. And, despite the passage of time, our nation’s struggle with civil rights continues to this day and screams for more work to be done. 

When workers bulldoze Bates Elementary, something vital from the past will be lost. But, for the present, the remembrances of countless students will remain with them. As for me, I found lost memories of the school today. When I think about my school days and share them with my friends and family, Bates Elementary will always remain as it was 60 years ago. 

Published first in the Ute Country News, June, 2023.