Excerpt
Chapter 1: A Humble Beginning
George Washington Carver was born at a time when life was anything but easy. He entered the world during the Civil War, when the United States was divided, and people like him—Black Americans—were often treated unfairly. He wasn’t born in a hospital or in a big house. Instead, he came into the world on a small farm in Diamond, Missouri, owned by Moses and Susan Carver, a white couple who had enslaved his parents.
Before George was even old enough to walk, the war ended, and slavery was abolished. That meant he and his family were no longer owned by anyone. But freedom didn’t mean an easy life. His parents had disappeared—his mother was kidnapped, likely taken away and never found—and George and his brother, James, were left to be raised by the Carvers. Even though he was no longer a slave, being a free Black child in the 1860s meant there were still many challenges ahead.
From the very start, George was different. While other kids his age spent their days playing or helping with chores, George was fascinated by the world around him. He wanted to understand everything—how plants grew, why the soil smelled different after it rained, and what made flowers bloom in different colors. He didn’t just look at nature; he studied it.
The Carvers, though not his real family, allowed him to explore. They taught him basic reading and writing at home since there weren’t many schools that would accept Black students. But learning at home wasn’t enough for George. He wanted more.
That’s when he heard about a school for Black children a few miles away. It wasn’t a fancy school with big classrooms or lots of books. It was a small, one-room schoolhouse with just a few supplies. That didn’t matter to George. He had waited long enough to sit in a real classroom, and nothing was going to stop him.
But there was one big problem. The school wasn’t close. It was miles away, too far to walk back and forth every day. Most kids would have given up. George didn’t. Instead, he packed up what little he had and set out on his own, determined to get an education.
That was just the beginning.
George traveled from town to town, always looking for new places to learn. He worked as a farmhand, did chores in exchange for meals, and even slept outdoors when he had no other choice. Some towns turned him away because they didn’t allow Black students in their schools. That didn’t stop him. He just kept moving forward, finding new teachers, new books, and new ways to grow his knowledge.
One of the first schools he attended was in Neosho, Missouri. When he arrived, he had nowhere to stay. That’s when he met Mariah and Andrew Watkins, an African American couple who let him live with them in exchange for doing chores. He spent his days learning in school and his evenings working for the Watkins family, studying by candlelight when the chores were done.
Even though he had finally made it into a classroom, he quickly realized that he already knew more than most of the students. He had spent years teaching himself, reading everything he could get his hands on, and paying attention to the world around him.
But he wasn’t done yet. He wanted more than just a basic education. He wanted to go to college.
That was almost unheard of for a Black student at the time. Few colleges accepted African American students, and even when they did, it was rare. George applied anyway. He was accepted into Highland University in Kansas—only to be turned away once they realized he was Black.
Most people would have been heartbroken. George just kept going.
He traveled again, working wherever he could to support himself, until he found a school that would accept him. Simpson College in Indianola, Iowa, took him in. At first, he studied art—he was talented at drawing and painting, especially plants and flowers. But one of his professors noticed something special about him. He didn’t just paint plants; he understood them.
That’s when he was encouraged to study agriculture—the science of farming.
That decision changed everything.
George transferred to Iowa State Agricultural College (now Iowa State University), where he became not just a student, but eventually a teacher and researcher. He was the first Black student at the college and later became its first Black professor. He spent his time studying soil, crops, and ways to help farmers grow better food. He didn’t want to be rich or famous. He wanted to help people—especially poor farmers—find better ways to work the land.
George Washington Carver wasn’t just smart. He was determined. He knew that knowledge was the key to making life better, and he never let anything—not poverty, not racism, not rejection—stop him from learning.
George Washington Carver was born at a time when life was anything but easy. He entered the world during the Civil War, when the United States was divided, and people like him—Black Americans—were often treated unfairly. He wasn’t born in a hospital or in a big house. Instead, he came into the world on a small farm in Diamond, Missouri, owned by Moses and Susan Carver, a white couple who had enslaved his parents.
Before George was even old enough to walk, the war ended, and slavery was abolished. That meant he and his family were no longer owned by anyone. But freedom didn’t mean an easy life. His parents had disappeared—his mother was kidnapped, likely taken away and never found—and George and his brother, James, were left to be raised by the Carvers. Even though he was no longer a slave, being a free Black child in the 1860s meant there were still many challenges ahead.
From the very start, George was different. While other kids his age spent their days playing or helping with chores, George was fascinated by the world around him. He wanted to understand everything—how plants grew, why the soil smelled different after it rained, and what made flowers bloom in different colors. He didn’t just look at nature; he studied it.
The Carvers, though not his real family, allowed him to explore. They taught him basic reading and writing at home since there weren’t many schools that would accept Black students. But learning at home wasn’t enough for George. He wanted more.
That’s when he heard about a school for Black children a few miles away. It wasn’t a fancy school with big classrooms or lots of books. It was a small, one-room schoolhouse with just a few supplies. That didn’t matter to George. He had waited long enough to sit in a real classroom, and nothing was going to stop him.
But there was one big problem. The school wasn’t close. It was miles away, too far to walk back and forth every day. Most kids would have given up. George didn’t. Instead, he packed up what little he had and set out on his own, determined to get an education.
That was just the beginning.
George traveled from town to town, always looking for new places to learn. He worked as a farmhand, did chores in exchange for meals, and even slept outdoors when he had no other choice. Some towns turned him away because they didn’t allow Black students in their schools. That didn’t stop him. He just kept moving forward, finding new teachers, new books, and new ways to grow his knowledge.
One of the first schools he attended was in Neosho, Missouri. When he arrived, he had nowhere to stay. That’s when he met Mariah and Andrew Watkins, an African American couple who let him live with them in exchange for doing chores. He spent his days learning in school and his evenings working for the Watkins family, studying by candlelight when the chores were done.
Even though he had finally made it into a classroom, he quickly realized that he already knew more than most of the students. He had spent years teaching himself, reading everything he could get his hands on, and paying attention to the world around him.
But he wasn’t done yet. He wanted more than just a basic education. He wanted to go to college.
That was almost unheard of for a Black student at the time. Few colleges accepted African American students, and even when they did, it was rare. George applied anyway. He was accepted into Highland University in Kansas—only to be turned away once they realized he was Black.
Most people would have been heartbroken. George just kept going.
He traveled again, working wherever he could to support himself, until he found a school that would accept him. Simpson College in Indianola, Iowa, took him in. At first, he studied art—he was talented at drawing and painting, especially plants and flowers. But one of his professors noticed something special about him. He didn’t just paint plants; he understood them.
That’s when he was encouraged to study agriculture—the science of farming.
That decision changed everything.
George transferred to Iowa State Agricultural College (now Iowa State University), where he became not just a student, but eventually a teacher and researcher. He was the first Black student at the college and later became its first Black professor. He spent his time studying soil, crops, and ways to help farmers grow better food. He didn’t want to be rich or famous. He wanted to help people—especially poor farmers—find better ways to work the land.
George Washington Carver wasn’t just smart. He was determined. He knew that knowledge was the key to making life better, and he never let anything—not poverty, not racism, not rejection—stop him from learning.