The bell outside the Kohrville Schoolhouse still rings.
It once signaled the start of class for Black children growing up in segregated Klein. Today, it rings for field trips.
The building, now part of the Klein Historical Foundation and Wunderlich Farm Museum, was once the last all-Black school in Klein ISD. Inside its wooden walls is a story rooted in freedom after slavery, shaped by segregation, and sustained by a community determined to educate its children no matter the circumstances.
For many families in Klein, this is not distant history.
It happened here.
The Kohrville community began shortly after the Civil War, when freed slaves from Alabama and Mississippi migrated to what was then rural northwest Harris County.
They settled in an area once known as “the bottoms,” building homes near what is now the intersection of Spring Cypress and FM 249. At the center of the community stood Pilgrim Baptist Church. Nearby, they built a school.
“So the Corville community started shortly after the Civil War,” said Steve Baird, director of the Klein Historical Foundation and Wunderlich Farm Museum. “Freed slaves from Alabama and Mississippi settled here… and this school was used in the community all the way until 1966.”
The first school dates back to the late 1800s. Fires destroyed earlier structures. The building preserved today was relocated from another campus and became one of the few two-room schoolhouses in the area.
For decades, it educated Black students from first through eighth grade.
When those students reached high school age, they were bused to other campuses.
Segregation remained in Klein ISD until 1966.
“And then 1966 comes in and desegregation,” Baird said. “In 1967, you see color coming in… that’s when you can see that segregation line stop.”
Yearbook photos at Klein High School reflect that shift.
Walking inside the Kohrville Schoolhouse feels like stepping into another era.
Wooden desks sit in straight rows. A recitation bench stands near the front, where students would stand to deliver lessons. Portraits of former presidents line the walls. A vintage American flag is displayed at the front of the room.
Grades were divided by age. Younger students sat in front. Older students in the back. One teacher rotated between grade levels, calling each group to the recitation bench while others worked independently.
School was not year-round.
Students often attended only a portion of the year because they were needed on farms, helping families plant, harvest, and manage livestock.
“You were only in school for a set number of months because you were needed on the farm,” Baird said. “So there wasn’t time for horseplay. Education was very serious.”
Math lessons focused on practical skills. Word problems revolved around livestock, produce, and land. Reading materials reflected rural life. Students were expected to know their math facts so they could function in business, sell goods, and manage land.
Discipline was firm.
A list of rules still hangs in the classroom, detailing punishments for misbehavior. Former student Tree Solomon once returned to the building and pointed to a small closet in the back of the room.
“He told me that’s where the closets were,” Baird said. “But it’s also where they took us to discipline us. When you were getting a lash, the students could hear it, but they couldn’t see it. You walked out with a tear in your eye. Everybody was straight laced.”
For Solomon and others, education here was direct and structured. There was little room for distraction. The expectation was simple: learn.
Despite segregation and limited resources, Kohrville families viewed education as essential to survival and advancement.
“It gave them a home,” Baird said. “They built that community. It’s where they kept their culture alive. And they knew to further yourselves, you had to be educated.”
The school stood next to the church. Across the street sits the Amos Cemetery, where generations of Kohrville families are buried. The area functioned as a hub of faith, education, and family life.
After integration, the building transitioned into a community center. It remained a gathering place even as the district changed.
Many of the family names tied to Kohrville remain part of Klein today. Some became business owners. Others continued as students, educators, and employees within the district.
Baird says the museum does not avoid the difficult parts of history.
“I don’t gloss over it,” he said. “I teach what happened. This is a shining point of where we were and how we fixed it. Corville is part of that history and that story.”
From segregation to preservation
In the early 1980s, Klein ISD purchased the land that now houses the museum. After the original resident passed away in the mid-1990s, district leaders decided to transform the property into a living history site.
Tours began in 1998.
In 2000, the Kohrville Schoolhouse was officially added to the museum complex.
Today, every fourth grader in Klein ISD visits the property to experience rural life from the late 1800s to the mid-1900s. Students see how laundry was done. How meals were prepared. How classrooms operated without modern technology.
They learn how cold the building can feel in winter without central heating.
They experience history as something tangible.
“When you cross that fence line, you’re stepping into our story,” Baird said.
For many residents in Klein, the Kohrville Schoolhouse stands as a reminder that Black history is local.
It is not only found in textbooks or tied to national landmarks.
It unfolded in small classrooms like this one.
In communities formed by freed slaves who prioritized faith, land ownership, and education.
The building does not erase the reality of segregation. It preserves it.
And for families whose grandparents once sat in those wooden desks, its presence ensures that the story of Kohrville is not forgotten.