The Canetuck Rosenwald School now serves as a Community Center frequently highlighted in Rosenwald preservation tours.
Remembering two schools in Pender County, NC that shaped a community.
The documentary Under the Kudzu brings forward the stories of two Rosenwald schools in Pender County, NC, and does so with a gentle respect for the people who kept those stories alive. It is a film rooted in memory and shaped by voices of those who understand what these schools meant to the Black families who built them, learned in them, and fought to keep their children educated during a time when the world around them offered little support.
The Canetuck Rosenwald School stands at the heart of the film. Its restoration speaks to decades of use, care, and community pride. Even in its quiet moments, the building feels alive. You can almost imagine the sound of children’s footsteps on the old floors or the excited voices of neighbors gathering for meetings and celebrations. The film treats the school not as a relic but as a witness, something that has seen hardship and hope in equal measure.
The second school, the Pender County Training School in Rocky Point, carries a different kind of weight. It was the place where older students prepared for the wider world, often with limited resources but unwavering determination. Many of the people interviewed in the film describe how the school shaped their sense of possibility. Their stories remind us that education was never just about books; it was about dignity, confidence, and the belief that a child’s future mattered.
Education in Segregated America
“Under the Kudzu” (2012, 55 minutes) traces the history of two Rosenwald schools in Pender County, NC. Alumni and former teachers share their experiences in this moving documentary about African American sacrifice for education.
What makes Under the Kudzu so moving is its attention to the land itself. Kudzu winds through the film as both a plant and a metaphor. It grows fast, covers everything, and can swallow history if no one steps in to protect the places it covers. The documentary shows how easily these schools could have disappeared under that green blanket. Instead, community members chose to remember, restore, and tell the stories that might otherwise have been lost.
The film’s tone is steady and reflective. It doesn’t rush. It gives space for elders to speak, for photographs to linger, and for the viewer to understand how much effort went into building these schools in the first place. There is a quiet power in hearing former students describe walking miles to class or watching their parents raise money to buy supplies the county would not provide. Their memories are tender, but they are also reminders of how deeply people invest in their children’s futures.
Under the Kudzu is more than a documentary about two buildings. It is a reminder of how communities hold on to their history, even when time and neglect threaten to erase it. The film honors the people who refused to let that happen. It invites us to see these schools not as distant landmarks but as part of a living story, one that still shapes families, neighborhoods, and the wider understanding of Black educational heritage in the South.