In Praise of Appalachian Women In Praise of Appalachian Women

By Dr. James M. Gifford

My father was an alcoholic who deserted us when my brother and I were infants. My mother was mentally and emotionally handicapped. She was incapable of gainful support and sat at home in rags while my aging grandmother, Clara Moore Clark, taught and supported us.

As a little boy, I imagined that my grandmother was like Jesus—she knew how to love, and she knew how to forgive; she lovingly sacrificed herself for others. She had a gentle soul and a determined spirit, and she developed an unwavering sense of responsibility, an uncompromising integrity, and an unfailing courage that enabled her to meet a lifetime of difficulties.

She was a brilliant child, and her father and mother wisely encouraged her love of learning. Her postsecondary training at Morgan school and one year at Peabody earned her a Licensed Instructor’s degree in June 1911. For the next five decades, she was a teacher.

In 1947, I was a homeless three-year-old child when I entered my grandmother’s life. She was living in an old house that her aunt had given to her. She had already raised six children on a teacher’s salary—a salary that was only half what the other teachers made, because she “only” had a two-year degree (from one of America’s greatest teaching training institutions), and they had four-year degrees. But she was the smartest person I have ever known, and she was a great teacher, too.