Thursday evening I made a drive to Camden, Michigan which isn’t on the map in the road atlas that we keep under a couch cushion in our living room. I had been to Camden – Frontier High School a half-dozen times in the past but I was running late so I asked “google” for directions. I thought she might know a shortcut. I was doing great until she told me to turn on a dirt road. “Must be a shortcut” popped into my brain. I followed the road until she told me that I had “arrived”. I hadn’t. The only logical explanation for such an error is that they guy mapping for “google” got tired one day, entered a longitude and latitude for Camden-Frontier High School, and called it good. Either that or some drone driver fell asleep at the switch that night.
I lost my way so I sought guidance from an Amish fellow in a large wagon being pulled by a 
team of four huge horses. He pointed me in the right direction. “Go two miles up, turn left. Go one mile, turn right. Go two more miles up, turn left and it’s a mile down the road.” (Farmers should lay out all of the roads in the entire county. Simple and precise.) I looked for the football lights to help gain my bearings.
I drove to Springport Friday morning to meet with the high school counselor. I am not in need of any personal counseling, but I was seeking her help in connecting with some high school students. I had been to Springport twice before. The first time was during the first two years of my teaching career – so the summer of 1970 or 71. I sold student accident insurance for a couple of years. Springport was one of the schools assigned to me. The second time I ended up there, I was lost.
Both the first time I made the trip, and again Friday, I looked for the football lights to help guide me. They weren’t on, but they stand tall in flat farm country, and the school is always close at hand.
When I was superintendent at Britton-Macon, and people sought directions from me, I told them that the school was “a block off of M-50 under the water tower”. The water tower could be seen for miles.
Britton and Deerfield (the next school district across several farm fields) had a cooperative athletic program. We combined forces for several sports to provide more opportunities for our students. We were able to field JV and varsity football teams. Prior to combining our students, ninety pound freshman played on the same team as two-hundred and fifty pound seniors. Combining programs, and adding a JV team, made life more fun for everyone. We added several other teams over the time that I was there.
When people would ask for the primary difference between our two schools, my standard reply was “You can get to Britton by accident (just follow M-50), but you have to go to Deerfield on purpose.” (They were truly in the middle of farm country, but the football lights could be used to help guide you.)
Life in rural Michigan is very similar in almost any town you visit (either on purpose or by accident). Most people are friendly. There is usually a small, hometown restaurant where people gather for coffee and to keep up on the local news. The drawing card for most of these towns is the school. It’s the common denominator. People generally support their children and their school. For most, “their school” is the “best school”. It’s not about the place. It’s about the people who love the place and their belief that they have the “best place”. If you believe it, it’s true for you.
Next time you find yourself lost in Michigan’s countryside look for the football lights or a water tower. If you’re lucky you’ll find both. Nearby you’ll find a restaurant where you can seek guidance over coffee.
If you find yourself on a dirt road looking for a sign of civilization, watch for an Amish fellow in a large wagon being pulled by four huge horses. He’ll let you know that “you aren’t really lost” and he’ll send you on your way.