Abandoned New York: Fort Covington Schoolhouse

Sitting alongside State Highway 37, just outside Fort Covington, New York sits this one-room brick schoolhouse. The unmistakable bank of windows caught my eye from down the road. A quick u-turn was definitely worth it to snap a few photographs. Without a sign to its name or any indication of ownership, I had to assume it was abandoned (perhaps only used for storage). If you know anything about this lonely schoolhouse, I’d love to hear.

One room brick schoolhouse. The bank of windows gave it away.

Interesting front entrance: no windows in the front, but nice return cornices, indicative of Greek Revival style. Those trees must have been planted when the school was very young. You can envision the  coats and lunch pails in the front entrance, the blackboard on the front wall, and desks lined up facing the board, so the sun would shine over the students’ left shoulders. A small wood frame addition is on the left, and likely held the privies. A concrete block addition on the rear likely held wood or coal and other supplies. 

Closer view of the front. A slate walkway leads you to the frame door, and planters oppose each other on the large stone slab. The foundation is stone, also. 

A historic doorknob.

A historic doorknob.

Six windows in the bank. A flagpole stands in the school yard without a flag.

Behind the school is a concrete block addition and playground remnants. Here is the frame for a see-saw. No other equipment to be found.

The schoolhouse appears in relatively good condition, despite the broken window sashes. Perhaps it does have an owner, or at least a future.

New York, New York

The oddest feeling came over me on my recent trip to New York City. Odd in the sense of unexpected as opposed to strange. What was it?

Central Park, NYC

Central Park, NYC

I realized just how much of a New Yorker I am. The characteristics of New York City slipped my mind over the years of being away. Like a flashback, I was struck by the familiarity of accents, of last names, of food, of the pace.

NYC Public Library is a perfect spot for preservationists.

NYC Public Library is a perfect spot for preservationists.

I’m a New Yorker (Long Islander, if we’re being specific), born and bred, though I’ve found my home as an adult to be in Burlington, Vermont. It’s been almost six years in Vermont, much less than my time in New York.

You get used to the culture of a new home after a while. In Vermont, you can go with the typical no billboards, a focus on the local economy, green mountains and blue skies, an outdoorsy crowd of people. You get used to the habits and quirks and standard practices of wherever you live. While I’ve yet to fall into the hiking and skiing culture, count me in for the local food, environmental love, the beauty of Lake Champlain, and the pure beauty of Vermont.

Growing up on Long Island, there were many, many families with the last name O’Shea. I competed in track with another Kaitlin O’Shea! In Vermont, there are only a few O’Sheas (no relation to me). Most everyone I knew on Long Island was Irish. That is not the case in Vermont. And studying Spanish for 9 years is not as useful in Vermont; French would have been a better choice.

A snowy evening in New York City.

A snowy evening in New York City.

It’s not that I thought I had lost the New Yorker in me; I just hadn’t thought about it in a while. Have you experienced that after being away from your childhood home for a while? Vermont is my home now, and one that I love, but it’s good to know that New York will always feel like home, too, and I know where my roots are. Like the saying goes, “You can take the girl out of New York, but you can’t take the New York out of the girl.”

The Upper West Side on a lovely sunny afternoon.

The Upper West Side on a lovely sunny afternoon.

What about you? Have you ever felt something similar?