“Visitors Must Report To Office.”  

The sign, still on a wall at the original Terwilliger Elementary School, speaks only to the homeless who call the school home.  

The sprawling campus on Northwest 62nd Street near the Oaks Mall is strewn with broken glass from windows and doors and overgrown with waist-high weeds.  

Throughout the school—in classrooms, the auditorium, offices—there are food containers, plastic bottles, shopping bags and the occasional backpack or sleeping pallet left by a new student body of squatters. 

A woman and her dog retreated into a dark hallway Saturday as a Mainstreet reporter approached the south entry.  

On counters inside there were stacks of papers—school documents and students’ work left to be perused by whomever comes along. Much of the paperwork contained students’ personal information, including phone numbers and addresses.  

Gates stood open wide enough for cars to drive through them, after vandals had apparently broken or cut padlocks and chains.  

The school district closed the old Terwilliger, which had served more than 500 students, in 2021. Its name, children and teachers were moved to a brand-new facility—60 blocks to the West on S.W. 122^nd Street.  

Reached by phone, district spokesperson Jackie Johnson said a facilities employee would re-lock the gates Monday, but she acknowledged the ongoing security challenges.  

“Law enforcement is doing extra patrols,” Johnson said. “In fact, they’re actually going into the school on a regular basis, and if someone is there, clearing them out.” 

Johnson called the presence of documents with student information “very concerning” and said the district would follow up on the matter.  

When Myra A. Terwilliger Elementary School—namesake of a beloved Alachua County educator—opened in 1962, the Oaks Mall across the street did not exist. Interstate 75 wasn’t there. Steve Spurrier had yet to take a snap as a Florida Gator. 

After six decades in operation, the school is now going through a long state process on the road to demolition.  

“You can’t just go in willy-nilly and knock down buildings,” said Johnson, who estimated the approval process will take several more months.  

While that process plays out, doors sit ajar, some twisted from being forced open. Most windows have only shattered glass in them.  

Every wing of the complex was accessible on Saturday, providing a place for homeless people to gather and sleep out of the elements.  

At a neatly kept cluster of shops and professional offices bordering the school to the south, folks told Mainstreet they have experienced unsettling encounters with their new neighbors. 

“It’s happening much more often,” said Zen Cho, an employee at a salon in the building.  “Lately, we’ve had homeless people even banging on our door.” 

“It’s dark over here. We’re alone, and it can be scary at night,” said manicurist Kat Smith.  “Why is the school just abandoned like that? Where are the police?” 

When the new school that would later be named Terwilliger was being built, it was called only “New Elementary School I.” It was intended to help ease overcrowding and accommodate explosive growth to the West of I-75. 

The proposal to shutter Terwilliger Elementary was contentious. Many parents and teachers opposed closing the school, arguing that it was an important community asset, and that closing it would be a damaging disruption to students and families.  

While the school needed updating that would cost an estimated $11.6 million, it was structurally sound. The principal and some teachers said it made little sense to shut it down with overcrowding throughout the district a major problem. 

The argument that the district could save money by not renovating Terwilliger—and make a bundle by selling the property instead—won the day in a 4-1 vote of the school board. 

Three years later the property has not been sold. The envisioned financial windfall has not been realized. School rezoning to relieve overcrowding has not happened after multiple, failed attempts to draw new lines. 

And last week, the former home of the Terwilliger “Twisters” resembled something struck by one.