ASHWOOD On a cold morning, Autumn Comstock jumps out of her grandfathers pickup with authority. Her hair still wet from an early-morning shower, she walks briskly past the rusty, white flagpole, up a small hill, and enters the classroom she shares with just two others.

Its been three months since Autumn first walked through the front doors at Ashwood Elementary School.

Out here, I can be myself, the 12-year-old Redmond transplant said. At my old school, I had to be all prissy-priss. All the girls would say, Oh, I broke a nail, and I hate it, because theyll say, Eww, shes holding a bug. And who cares? I love bugs.

Up and down a winding, two-lane road, past nine cattle guards, through expansive fields, under dwarfing rimrock cliffs and 32 miles from the nearest town, Ashwood starts to appear. At the last unofficial count, Ashwood residents estimated they have about 12 people living in their town.

There is no grocery store, no restaurant and no gas station. Directions are landmark-driven behind the white picket fence or the past the bridge. The post office doubles as someones home, and the church used to be a saloon.

And at the center of it all is Ashwood Elementary School.

At the turn of last century, the Oregon Department of Education estimated there were about 3,000 one-room schools in Oregon. (The state defines a one-room school as one with only one teacher.)

Today, there are 12.

In some cases, such as at Ashwood Elementary, there are technically two rooms, but only one is used. The Ashwood school is the smallest in Central Oregon and the third-smallest in the state.

Despite a constant ebb in the schools population one family coming or going has a big impact this school is hanging on. Earlier this year, a divorce took two students out of the community, leaving the school with only one pupil. A month later, a family moved in, and the schools enrollment is back to three. The thought of consolidating with a larger school a fate that has closed other schools in the area, such as the one-room school in Brothers in 2005 makes community members bristle.

Heart of community

One-room schools have long been vital to rural communities. Theyre a place where Christmas pageants, bake sales and Halloween parties bring people together. For Ashwood residents, their elementary school is still considered the heart of the community.

All five of Roberta Sandy Keegans children went to the little school on the hill. Her husband went there, too. If anyone thought of closing it down, they would have to make it past the 84-year-old first.

I would lie down in the street and scream before I let them close the school, she said.

When Dani Cowdrey, 43, who attended first- through seventh-grade at the school, and whose 9-year-old son is now doing the same, heard Keegans comment, she laughed.

I agree with that, she said. I think everybody would agree with that.

Booming mining town

Once a booming mining town, these days Ashwood, located in Jefferson County, is full of vast ranches.

Grainy black-and-white photos hanging in the entrance of the current school show class sizes reaching into the 20s. At one time, there were enough students to form a basketball team. The current school was built in the 1950s. But a more classic-looking, one-room school was in the community dating back to at least the early 1900s.

Despite growing up in Madras, Penny Marston had never heard of Ashwood until after college.

She came to Ashwood as a 22-year-old recent graduate to fulfill her dream of teaching in a one-room school. Back then, she lived behind the school in a trailer. Her evenings were spent giving riding lessons or helping the local ranchers herd cows. Now, the 54-year-old lives with her husband on a ranch in the community and has been teaching at the school for about 20 years, having taken some time off when her son was born.

Marston doesnt teach from the front of her classroom.

Instead, just like her three students Autumn, Autumns little sister, Abby, 8, and Devin Krasznavolgyi, 9 she is seated in a 1940s-style desk. The days arent punctuated with ringing bells or strict periods, but the students work steadily on their own, following directions on the chalkboard. Marston is constantly circulating through the room. She moves her desk, first next to Autumn to read out loud, and later next to Devin to work on identifying the 50 states.

A typical day

A few minutes before 8 a.m., Devin is the first to arrive at school.

He props his gray bike against the gym, leaves it unlocked and enters the classroom. He tears off his camouflage jacket and shakes out the contents of his backpack, folders and books falling to the floor. Its what his teacher and two classmates refer to as the tornado.

For the 9-year-old, his two newest classmates are welcome playmates. Before the girls moved to Ashwood, Devin was the only student for about a month.

Country living agrees with Devin.

Even though he only spent the first few years of his life living in a city, he said, he

prefers Ashwood.

Cities have too much noise, he said. You can sleep better out here … less traffic.

Midmorning, the group takes a break.

Marston and her three students head to the gym, where they take off their shoes. Its time for physical education. With the cold gym floor pressing against their feet, they start doing jumping jacks and chant A-S-H-W-O-O-D.

After warm-up, its dodgeball time. Dodgeball with four players can be tricky, but the group has adapted. There are fewer rules that render a person out and more ways to get back in the game.

The yellow and black balls fly through the air.

Devin, who has a mean left arm, is careful when aiming at second-grader Abby.

Marston admits her students can at times miss having more classmates.

They miss those activities and friends, she said. But they get closer, they become kind people and learn how to take care of each other.

Per-student spending

Ashwood School District spends $34,298 per student, versus the states average of $8,000.

Imagine if you took a school bus, and its $400 to run the bus, and if I pick up 20 students, then you divide $400 by 20, said Gene Evans, director of communications with the Oregon Department of Education. If I pick up one, its a $400 bus ride. With gas, insurance and the driver, pretty soon its expensive. You could buy a kid a car.

That cost often spurs a district such as Ashwood to join a neighboring one, Evans said. But Ashwood residents are adamant that their school stay open.

After students leave the kindergarten through sixth-grade Ashwood Elementary, they are funneled to the Culver School District for middle and high school. Those students are still considered to be part of the Ashwood School District, boosting the districts enrollment numbers.

It was nearly a century ago that one-room schools took their first hit and started dwindling.

Mandatory attendance didnt come around until the 1920s in Oregon, Evans said. And that was the turning point for these little schools. Two things happened one, with automobiles transportation became easier, and two, the law changed requiring students to attend school.

Suddenly, more students were going to school and with buses, it was easier to do so. As the number of students increased, the number of districts started to shrink. In 1937, there were 2,114 school districts in Oregon. Now, there are 198.

Despite all the changes, there has been a constant with one-room schools.

Students were very engaged, helping other kids, helping the teachers, and now that kind of relationship has been lost in a lot of schools, Evans said. Students felt very connected to their fellow students and their teachers, and thats something we actively try to develop in schools now.

Thats not something actively pursued at Ashwood Elementary. It just happens.

Even if you have three students and they are different ages, a teacher can give them pretty direct one-on-one attention, Evans said. Even with 15, 16 or 20 kids, thats smaller than class sizes in Oregon now.

Oregons average is 27 students per class.

Free time

Its past lunch and time for a little free time.

Abby rolls out a hopscotch mat. Devin grabs a rope and practices his lassoing skill on the water fountain. Autumn is singing along to a Shania Twain tune on her karaoke machine.

The classroom is indicative of the childrens different skill levels. The words mode, median, range and mean are written across one chalkboard. The letters of the alphabet sit atop another. Like Marston, who is the teacher, principal and secretary, this room serves as the art room, the music room and on cold days, the playroom. And even though there are only three students, at times the large room feels abuzz with activity. Mrs. Marston, can you help me? can be heard every few minutes.

Its a place, as Autumn said, where the students can be themselves.

A future crocodile wrestler or horse jumper Autumn isnt sure which yet the young girl can pet her lizard Jasmine without someone making a comment. She can run up and down the hill behind the classroom with Devin and make cougar noises without any dirty looks.

Her precocious younger sister, Abby, who figures she will probably be a banker when she grows up, gets the encouragement she needs to play with the other children. Otherwise, she would prefer to spend all her time with Marston.

And Devin, a focused student, who will likely put his head down and work until hes reminded to come up for air, can work at his own quick pace.