Here’s the Problem
(as I see it) You may not be a fan of the National Football League but it’s hard to ignore its existence --- certainly not from September to February with games played on Sunday, Monday, and Thursday --- with endless ads about those upcoming contests. Even if you’re not a fan it’s difficult to ignore the $163 billion behemoth that is the NFL. We stopped watching games for several years (a sort-of protest regarding concussion concerns and, for me, the lackluster performance of the NY Giants) but slowly, like the common cold, it has crept back into my system (the Lovely Carol Marie could care less --- and lets me know that any time I flip on a game). This past week we saw the unusual occurrence of a Head Coach being fired during his first season. The Carolina Panthers owner, a man named David Tepper, rather unceremoniously dismissed Head Coach Frank Reich after the eleventh game of the (17 game)season. The Panthers are, of course, 1-10 and their first-round draft pick, a Heisman Trophy winning quarterback named Bryce Young, has suffered the way many rookie players (especially quarterbacks) do. Part of the issue is that Young was chosen #1 in last year’s draft and a player named C.J.Stroud was chosen #2. Stroud, at present, is headed to becoming the NFL Offensive Rookie of the Year and his Houston Texans are currently 6-5 and alive for a playoff berth. This clearly irked Mr. Tepper, who took out his frustration at being skunked in the draft by firing Coach Reich. David Tepper is a billionaire (as are all 32 NFL owners) and made his fortune as a hedge fund manager. Other owners made their money in real estate, the technology field, oil/gas/fracking, auto parts, truck stops --- a wide variety of industries. This is true of the NBA and MLB owners as well. In some cases, families have owned and controlled franchises over decades (the Maras, the Rooneys, the Steinbrenners, the Halas & Buss clans, etc.). What is true is that there have only been a few (and quite rare) instances --- particularly in the last half century --- where any team has sustained excellence. There were the Yankees of the late 1990’s and, of course, the Patriots in the first part of this century but, if we’re going to talk about championships, no one else. There are franchises which are consistently good and, in being “good,” make a great deal of money for their (already ridiculously wealthy) owners. Mark Cuban bought the Dallas Mavericks for $285 million in 2000 and just sold his ownership shares for a $3.125 billion profit! During that time the Mavericks were a respectable team that won one NBA championship. If you were my student right now, you’d be correct in asking, is there a point here, Mr. Johnson? One simple one. People who know how to make a lot of money can continue to make a lot of money when they move to a field they have little or no experience with --- BUT they don’t necessarily know how to achieve excellence in their product. My analogy here is a simple one and, as is my orientation, it’s about education. If we think of a school system as a “business” with a Board of Directors --- like many of the companies these sports owners made their fortunes with --- we might see a connection to professional sports. Two local school systems, geographically close to where I live, have multi-million-dollar budgets. The smaller district has a $57 million budget, the larger one, a whopping $314 million. Not exactly a sports franchise budget, but certainly significant. And here’s where the sports teams and the school districts intersect. When we’ve seen a sports franchise sustain a level of excellence it’s because the owner --- who does not have expertise in the sport --- has identified individuals (with expertise) to conduct the on-field business and run the show. (NOTE: I’m omitting NBA teams because the nature of the sport means a player or two --- a Larry Bird, a Magic Johnson, a Michael Jordan, a LeBron James --- can make a team a sustained winner, an entirely different equation.) Robert Kraft has had Bill Belichick in New England and the Steinbrenners had Joe Torre in New York (Jerry Jones, briefly, had Jimmy Johnson). As noted, many franchises sustain a “good product” which puts fans in the seats and dollars in the till but to truly sustain excellence (championships) the owners must have an eye for talent that will bring results. Given that the owners have proved successful in fields other than sports, we should not be surprised that they think they can attain success in sports, too. And so it is with our public schools. While we do have district superintendents (who come and go on an employment merry-go-round --- like Managers and Head Coaches) public schools are run by Boards of Education. And who, exactly, serves on those Boards of Education? Well, members of the Community, of course. Boards of Education are usually unpaid positions and I have no intention of demeaning the citizens who willingly give their time and energy to serve on these Boards. BUT I do have to point out that, like sports franchise owners, they almost never have any professional expertise in education. Yet, our last bastion of pure democracy in the U.S., allows anyone who lives in a community to become a School Board Member. And that is, very often, a problem. That problem is woven into the very fabric of our unique capitalistic democracy. All too often, people who have been $ucce$$ful in fields like business, law, medicine, etc. have not only had an eye toward their personal “bottom line” but also have very little respect for those of us who have chosen to be educators. I’m generalizing, of course, but after 42 years working in public schools in some way, shape, form, or another, I have dealt with enough Board of Education members to know that they believe conducting the “business” of school is not as difficult as whatever field it is they have chosen as their profession. Knowing schools and schooling the way I do, that attitude is akin to saying, “I’ve flown on planes a lot in my life --- so I think I could be a pilot.” Finding the talent to run a sports franchise successfully --- to win championships --- is, clearly, not easy. And so it is with schools. Because we live in a society that, historically, has little respect for educators (remember, starting in the early 20th century teaching was seen as a “feminine” profession, with all the discriminatory baggage that conveys). There is a sense that those who have been “successful” in other professions (particularly if they are financially successful) “know” how to run schools (“Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach.”). Because schools are one of the only remaining places where true democracy prevails, we leave the running of those multi-million-dollar enterprises to people who have, literally, no expertise in the profession. Like sports franchise owners. What makes this situation more dire, regarding the education of our children, is that the relationship between Boards of Education and teachers is, far too often, adversarial. I believe that some of that is because teachers, when they finally organized to negotiate for salaries and benefits, did so as a labor union and not a “professional organization” like the ABA or AMA --- who have control over certification of their professionals. Teachers are certified by the State, same as plumbers and carpenters. But I will also lay some blame on the doorstep of those Boards who do not (ever!) consult with their education professionals when creating policies that directly affect what goes on in the day-to-day workings of our schools. When selecting Superintendents and Principals teachers often have “input” that is all too often not taken seriously. We have a system which, like professional sports ownership, has inherent flaws. Those “in charge” lack professional expertise and, too often, are not curious enough to even ask the right questions of the right people to improve their situations. Interestingly, when people are polled about their own school districts, they say their schools are fine, but all the neighboring districts are “not very good.” At the same time, those polls never ask the teachers what they think “works” and “doesn’t work” in their schools. This lack of checking in with those people who are closest to our students, who are subject to the good or bad leaders the Board of Ed selects, who advocate for the children in their care, are, too often, left out of any of the policy or decision-making discussions that ultimately determine how schools work. Years ago, James Herndon noted: The public school is the closest thing we have in America to a national established church. Getting-an-Education the closest thing to God, and it should be possible to treat it and deal with it as the church has been treated and dealt with. The treatment has not really changed the existence of the one institution and will not harm the other, but it has allowed for the growth of alternatives to it and that is what is wanted, even if some of those alternatives have become, and will become, institutions themselves. (bold, mine. How to Survive in Your Native Land, p. 112) I have worked in schools that were those alternatives --- and they were successful because the Boards of Education and the teachers were mutually respectful and had common goals regarding the students. Too often students and teachers are not at the center of discussions about School Districts. Budgetary concerns and test scores supersede students and teachers. Until we deal with our schools differently --- as concerned citizens and not sports franchise owners --- we may still win some games, but those sustained championships will continue to elude us.
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When “Today” Started
If you are old enough to clearly remember Friday, November 22, 1963 you can, undoubtedly, recount exactly where you were when you heard the news of John F. Kennedy’s assassination. I was in a 9th grade, 8th period Study Hall at Bay Shore Junior High School, supervised by English teacher Tom Ford. Mr. Ford was a “fun” teacher and widely known to engage in collegial hijinks with another English teacher, Harry Anderson. So, when Mr. Anderson came into our Study Hall and whispered into Mr. Ford’s ear, we all thought we were in store for one of their pranks. Mr. Anderson left, and Mr. Ford looked quite serious --- but we knew he could “fake” a “serious” look and then crack a joke so, when he looked at us and said “The President has been shot” we were sure this had to be a joke he and Harry had cooked up --- so we laughed. At that point he stood up and, looking very serious, raised his voice and said something like, “This is not funny. The President has been shot!” At that point we realized he was telling the truth and fell into a stunned silence. The rest of that afternoon (after our first Freshman Dance was cancelled) was spent watching television in stunned silence as Walter Cronkite relayed the news as he got it regarding the assassination and ensuing manhunt for the culprit. As we know, Lee Harvey Oswald was arrested and charged with the murder and on Sunday, November 24th, he was murdered by Jack Ruby --- a murder my father and I watched on live t.v. (I remember my Dad, a former police officer, turning to me and saying, rather matter of factly, “We just witnessed a murder.”). And that’s really where our current situation --- regarding the “ 24/7 news cycle” and conspiracy theories --- begins. In 1963 we consumed our news by way of newspapers, primarily. Yes, we had Walter Cronkite, Huntley & Brinkley, and Howard K. Smith on the “major” networks (CBS, NBC, ABC) but we were living in an early 20th century world that still relied on print media for information. Living in the NYC metro area, we had a plethora of choices regarding television --- CBS, NBC, ABC, WPIX, WNEW, WOR, and –starting around 1964 --- PBS. I clearly remember Channels 2,4,5,7, 9, 11, and 13 being available --- and all of them “signing off” at 1:00 a.m. (if not sooner) and leaving us with a monotonous droning signal and a “test pattern” on the screen. But JFK was shot on a Friday and the most immediate way to consume the story was provided by the minute-by-minute coverage television was providing. So much so that my Dad and I witnessed a murder as it happened. It took some time before cable t.v. became accessible to the population (I first got in the early 1980’s) and it was Ted Turner’s “genius” (?) to create CNN (1980) and start the whole 24/7 wall-to-wall news delivery system. Now, of course, we take it for granted but in 1963 we got the first glimpse of what today’s world might be like --- where the “news” was so important that we had to have that t.v. on hour after hour to find out what was going on. JFK was shot; Oswald was captured and arrested; Oswald was shot, and Jack Ruby was arrested; JFK’s casket was led down Pennsylvania Avenue with a riderless horse (and boots, backwards in the stirrups); and we were there, watching it all as it happened on television. Sure, we could read about in the papers, but the immediacy of the televised coverage was the precursor of today. Remember, t.v. was still a relative new medium in 1963. Most of America had yet to get a color t.v. set and most the footage we see surrounding JFK (except the Zapruder film) is in black-and-white. We were still decades away from the 24/7 world, but that weekend clearly showed the appetite U.S. citizens had for watching the news. The other part of the JFK assassination that has now become part of our warp-and-woof are conspiracy theories. From the outset, people wondered if Oswald could have acted alone --- could he really have gotten off three shots? Was he an expert marksman (his Marine records indicated “no”)? Who was Jack Ruby and why did he kill Oswald? Plus, the U.S. government did not seem forthcoming with information. The Warren Commission, charged with investigating the assassination, came under fire almost immediately --- and rightly so. Members of the Commission itself remained skeptical of its conclusions and, over the years, the conspiracy theories persisted. The idea that the CIA, anti-Castro groups, and the Mafia may have been connected to the assassination persist. Were shots fired from the Grassy Knoll? Certainly, Oliver Stone’s JFK (1991) stoked the conspiracy fires that already raged around the Kennedy assassination. The point here is simple: the government can’t be trusted, we do not know the complete truth surrounding this momentous event, there were hints of cover up (the CIA, in particular) and intrigue that still surround the assassination --- and led to conspiracy theories ---setting the stage for the 21st century media-saturated society’s fertile conspiracy soil. Remember the conspiracies surrounding the collapse of the Twin Towers? That was a pale precursor to QAnon and MAGA-world conspiracies, but it illustrates how rich the soil was for planting crazy notions and belief in a “deep state” that was out to get you! So, on this 60th anniversary of the JFK assassination, take a moment to realize, as Mark Twain noted, “History never repeats itself, but it does often rhyme.” Knowing history provides perspective, searching for facts and evidence will lead to honest understanding, and being a critical consumer of all the media we are exposed to is one of our most important duties as responsible citizens. Forewarned is forearmed. Happy Thanksgiving. At a Certain Point
Last Sunday, November 5th, would have been Sam Shepard’s 80th birthday. He passed away in July of 2017, a bit shy of his 74th birthday. Back in 2000, at the turn of the millennium, my Dad passed away at the same age as Sam. Both were younger than I am now and that has given me pause and provoked some serious “mortality” reflection. It led me to realize that no male (I have known)in my family (paternal and maternal sides) has ever lived beyond 77 years. So, despite my Mom passing away this New Year’s Day at age 95, I’m not necessarily counting on her genes to insure my own longevity. Watching my mother live into her mid-90’s also raised a very serious question: how long is too long to live? Even if your “quality of life” is good (necessities taken care of, etc.) how is your mental acuity, your physical ability, etc.? I’m about 6 months out from my 75th birthday (which means I’m completing my 75th solar orbit) and this confluence of facts (Sam & Dad, the age of the family’s men, Mom’s passing at 95) has me reflecting deeply --- and often --- on a basic question: how much time is left? I used to, occasionally, posit an idea with my students as a “thought exercise.” It did not require a quick, glib answer --- or any response or discussion at all. The question was simply designed to get these young people to think --- and think seriously and deeply about their lives. “We all know our birth-day. But what if we also knew our death-day? How might that influence your day-to-day decisions and long-term planning? Think about it.” Now, as I complete my 75th year --- my three-quarters of a century --- I have a new perspective on my “thought exercise” question. Once you’re older than your Dad was when he passed away, and you’ve reached the middle of your 70’s, the Finish Line becomes much more of a reality. Where reading the New York Times Obituary page was once an amusing exercise, now it’s a survey of “how old, on average” are the people listed on those pages? If they’re younger, it’s “too young” and if they’re older --- it’s “by how much?” In all, it leads to reflecting on many things. There’s always the Big Question about whether yours has been “a life well-lived.” My first reaction to that is: by whose standards? Only you can decide if your life has been “well-lived,” which means you’ve got to step back and look carefully at the travelogue that is your journey from birth to now. There’s that classic “regrets” column that must be filled out, as well as the (cliched) “bucket list” which might still need items checked off. If you have a reasonable memory and are a compulsive note/journal keeper (I am), it’s easier to look back and assess where you’ve been, where the hills and valleys were, and so on. Based on your recollections, notes, family lore, conversations with old friends, etc., you can gauge how you think you’ve done with your time. More significant, though, is: what’s ahead in that unknown quantity of time left? Should you approach it with the “every day may be my last” mentality? Or should you look at what you think you can still accomplish and proceed, in pursuit of those goals? “I grow old . . . I grow old . . . /I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled./Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?/I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk along the beach./I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.” I first heard The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock in 11th grade, read aloud --- beautifully and dramatically by Lester Faggiani, my English teacher --- and it immediately became one of my favorite poems --- and remains so today. And, yes, it takes on much deeper meaning as one gets older. As an aspiring adolescent poet, I was taken with Eliot’s brilliant imagery, diction, rhythm, and meter --- all components that make Prufrock an enduring classic. The theme itself, to me at 16, was a sad story about an older man coming to grips with aging, with that sense of chances missed and the creeping desperation one experiences as (s)he grows old. Reading it now, as I approach my 75th birthday, it resonates in a deeper way. I loved reading Prufrock to my students --- always trying to channel Les Faggiani’s drama and tone. It didn’t matter if I was teaching a history or English course --- or teaching people to become teachers ---at some point all my students were subjected to a reading of Prufrock. Aside from the striking imagery in its first stanza (“like a patient etherized upon a table”), the poet leads us down “Streets that follow like a tedious argument/of insidious intent” and lead us to “an overwhelming question.” At that point, however, he instructs us “Oh, do not ask, What is it?” We spend the rest of the poem following Prufrock down streets, through drawing rooms and museums before he finally intimates what that “overwhelming question” might be. When he writes: “No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;” he points to our answer. We know, of course, Hamlet has asked the “overwhelming question” ---“To be or not to be?” That is, indeed, the question. And Eliot/Prufrock is instructing us to read, again, Hamlet’s soliloquy if we truly want to review our own journey. Read it slowly and carefully now (and imagine, if you will, the difference between reading it as a 16-year-old and a 75-year-old). What resonates --- and why? To be, or not to be, that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep, No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub: For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause—there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of th'unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscovere'd country, from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all, And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pith and moment With this regard their currents turn awry And lose the name of action. Retirement provides one with time for reflection --- and time to review the literature that spoke to you in your youth --- and throughout your life. One should never stop learning and reviewing what you think you “know.” It is always a worthy exercise and, in fact, isn’t that what Hamlet is professing in this soliloquy? Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles And by opposing end them. Doesn’t this describe the day-to-day grind we all face, in one way or another? And, when nearing one’s end, doesn’t Hamlet describe for us our own reflection of death when he says, “to die, to sleep;” and reminds us: by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to. Indeed, by age 75 one is keenly aware of “the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to.” The culmination of a life’s work, of a life’s hopes and dreams, of life’s accomplishments and failures --- all encompassed in that simple phrase. And this is where the memory of Sam Shepard’s birthday has led me. To Eliot and Shakespeare, to Prufrock and Hamlet, and hundreds of other thoughts and memories. Consider just how many people one has encountered after spending 27,375 days on Earth? Starting with your family, your school- and teammates, your circles of friends and colleagues, as well as those you don’t know but interact with (the store clerks, mailmen, nodding acquaintance neighbors, the staff at Dunkin, etc.) --- it’s staggering. And then consider those hope and dreams, those triumphs and losses, those hundreds of days that simply passed by. I delivered a Commencement Address to a high school class (back in the late 1970’s) and started by quoting not Eliot or Shakespeare but those eminent philosophers, The Grateful Dead: "Lately it occurs to me/What a Long Strange Trip It’s Been." At that time, we were celebrating the graduation of a group I had been the Advisor to for six years, at a school we had started from scratch and, yes, it had been a long, strange trip. But now, some 45 years later, the quote is still appropriate, given the landscape of the journey I’ve made. Each of us is, ultimately, the final judge of whether we believe we have experienced that “life well-lived.” Not everyone is granted the longevity or the time to reflect on that overwhelming question but, if you are lucky enough, here’s hoping your answer brings you peace and a smile to your face. First Officer
No narrative about David Schein would be complete without including some words about Cora Lattanzio, his right-hand person. In the first couple of years in the new building, both Dave and Harley Dingman, the District Superintendent, had their offices on the second floor of BBHS. This meant, in 1970’s parlance Dave’s “secretary” (Cora) and Harley’s “secretary” (Susan Arkawy)had desks outside the doorways to the Administrators offices --- a veritable Cerberus of quick wit and intelligence (in every sense of the word) protecting the bosses. Susie and Cora were a terrific team --- ridiculously efficient (we all believed both could have had their boss’s job!), clever, and wise --- with senses of humor for days. Indeed, we were sad when Susie (and Harley) moved back to Ridge Street (where the District Offices now, rightly, bear her name) before we graduated a class. But we soldiered on and Cora became the sole gate-keeper in the Main Office and, without question, nothing happened in that school without Cora’s approval and/or knowledge. She was, in essence, Dave’s First Officer. Recollections from those who were there are the best way to capture what Cora meant to BBHS in those early years. Here’s Roger Smith’s story about Cora and the early days. So much chaos. It wasn’t entirely clear (to me at least) which teachers were going to move to the high school, who was going to stay behind, and who was going to divide time between both schools. It was here that I first met and fell in love with Cora Lattanzio, David’s secretary and the best mom that I or the school could have. The combination of Jewish David and Italian Cora provided the one-two punch that united a high school community that hadn’t yet established an identity. Cora and Al Lattanzio’s, is where we were fed more Northern Italian food than you can imagine. I don’t know how Cora and Al could afford to raise three daughters and feed the number of teachers who stopped in on a regular basis, but they did it joyously. Sal Corda’s take on Cora --- and the Lattanzio household --- provides some more insight. What can anyone say about Cora (and Al)! Apart from being very good at her job, she mothered us all. Parties at their house, refuge when there was a storm and the Hutch was flooded, and the Hilltop on payday. For me, who lived on Long Island until 1977, it was home away from home since I stayed at her house whenever there was a Board meeting. She fed me before (that woman could cook!) and treated me like a son. After the Board meetings, Al and I would watch the end of Monday night football, drinking Johnny Walker Red. End of the year parties at their house were the best! Ted Reed made his chowder, Cora would announce her Rookie of the Year selection (Roger, the only two-time winner!) and the laughter flowed. And the best, insider view, comes from Cora’s daughter, Carol. My mother was known for her entertaining skills. But it usually revolved around family and her and my father‘s friends --- but after working at Blind Brook, her entertaining went to a new level. After the first year of classes my mother decided to open up our house for an end of school party. She invited all the faculty including custodial staff, cafeteria staff, administration and teachers. I got home from college just in time to be her sous chef. She pulled out all stops. Cars would be parked up and down Fairlawn Pkwy, spilling into the side streets, loud music, lots of young party goers - people thought I was having a party, not my mother. This party was an annual event, yet there were concerns every year that it would rain. My mother never worried after all she was G.O.D of the Blind Brook School District. She even had mail addressed to her as G.O.D. (General Office Delivery) It wouldn’t dare to rain on an event hosted by G.O.D. and it never did. Boy, did she milk that G.O.D. It wasn’t just the year end event that my mother hosted. An unexpected snow storm often found our house overflowing with guests. She would open up the freezer and all the homemade ravioli that my sisters and I spent hours helping make, were cooked up for the snow bound travelers. She never ran out of food and my father was always the jovial host offering drinks to all. Then there was my mother’s boss, Dave. I did mention that my father was a bit conservative, we rarely heard my parents swearing when we were growing up, then along came Dave. My mother would take dictation from him and then come home with stories, often quoting Dave, who, according to my mother, used the word ‘fuck’ every other word. She would cleanup what he dictated as she typed it up but she thought it was hilarious. Sure enough my mothers vocabulary also started to change - not as colorful as Dave’s but at first my sisters and I were a little shocked (I think my father might have been too). Sadly, Cora passed away on December 8, 2016 --- the same day as the Astronaut/Senator John Glenn. I was writing a daily blog at that time and I think recollections about Cora express what she meant to the Blind Brook community --- not only in those early years but throughout her tenure at the school (1973 to 1996). Here’s that piece. Heroic People Heroes can come in all kinds of shapes, sizes, colors, and creeds. America lost a hero this week in John Glenn. The pioneering astronaut entered my life at age 13 when he became the first American to orbit the Earth. At the time, I didn’t appreciate the heroism (the pure balls it took to sit on all that rocket fuel igniting underneath you, etc.) as much as thinking we were catching up to the Russians --- who had already sent Yuri Gargarin into space almost a year earlier. Glenn’s service to our country, as a Marine, a test pilot, an astronaut, and a Senator is impressive across the board. His return to space at age 77 was nothing less than remarkable and revealed, again, the courage of the individual. So, we lost John Glenn this week and a true American hero has left the scene. One thing I’ve learned over the years, though, is that someone who is a great role model for others can be quite heroic in a less gaudy or headline grabbing fashion. Most kids, when asked who their heroes are, often cite a parent or grandparent --- and rightly so. Someone who lives life admirably, in a fashion that sets a great example we’d all like to emulate, can be heroic in his/her own way. In that sense, the passing of Cora Lattanzio at age 86 on December 8th marked the passing of another heroic person for me --- one who is lesser known to the general public, publicity-wise, but extremely well-known to average folks who have someone in their family, or at the their job, or in their community, who represents the best of who we all can be, day-in and day-out, without looking for public recognition or accolades. Cora Lattanzio was the secretary to the Principal at Blind Brook High School from 1973 through 1996 and was, without a doubt, the glue that held the school together over those years. In 1973 Blind Brook Junior/Senior High School was brand new, with only grades 7, 8, 9, and 10. A new building was finishing construction that September (with a new, “open” --- read “no interior walls” --- concept) in Rye Brook, a tiny unincorporated village on the border of Greenwich, Connecticut and New York State. David Schein was the first Principal and responsible for staffing the new high school. As luck would have it, I was hired to teach at BBHS and, in the spring of 1973, I first got to know Cora Lattanzio. Traveling down to Rye Brook (I was finishing my Master’s at Colgate in upstate Hamilton, NY) for my interview with Dave, I had a brief, but a very positive, meeting with Cora, who was extremely pleased to learn my mother was Italian-American! Within a week, Cora was the one who called to let me know I had gotten the job --- and also informed me that there was a small carriage house on the property of the district’s lone elementary school that was available for rent: would I be interested? So, Cora became my real estate agent and I lived in that house for the eleven years I worked at Blind Brook. When Cora called again, several days later, to inform me that my contract and my lease were ready to sign, my roommate, Steve Jones, answered the phone. He asked Cora if there were any other jobs openings at Blind Brook for September and Cora told him there was an English position, arranging an interview for Steve before I even got on the phone --- Cora was also Dave Schein’s job placement officer. The rest, as they say, was history. Steve got the job and we began working at Blind Brook in September, 1973. Cora and Dave, in the front office, were the perfect team for a young staff of energetic, idealistic teachers. Serving as Dave’s gatekeeper, Cora knew who to let in when and who to turn away from Dave’s door. She made each of us feel as though we were her favorite teacher on the staff without incurring any jealousy or rivalry --- and getting the maximum production from the group. In a school district that was about 65% Jewish and 35% Italian, having David Schein and Cora Lattanzio as the “face of the franchise” was straight out of central casting. If you have not been involved in a school start-up you have no idea how crazy it is. Just as most people don’t really understand how complex and complicated schools are, as institutions, even fewer have any clue as to how difficult it is to establish that institution! But we had a real vision about what we wanted Blind Brook to be and Dave, as Principal, and Cora, as First Officer, set the course perfectly. Cora, as a member of the community who had voted to create the school (her older daughters, Carol & Lynn, had commuted to high schools outside the village --- her youngest daughter, Joyce, was our student), was able to provide Dave with all the intel he needed about the community at all times. What we created was an incredible school that reflected a set of values about students being at the center of the process. When we were first accredited, five years into our existence, the Committee described Blind Brook Junior/Senior High School as a “House of Joy.” And it was --- and Cora Lattanzio, who left us this week --- was the heart of that House. I was on our school’s Steering Committee for that first Accreditation and we spent long hours meeting and putting together reports and trying to make sure we had all our “I’s” dotted and “t’s” crossed correctly. There were countless dinners at the Lattanzio household during that time with Al, Cora’s husband of 62 years who passed away just a couple of years ago, serving as the most gracious host you could imagine. Because of Joyce’s involvement in the music program at Blind Brook Cora and Al hosted all kinds of events for our beloved music director, George Trautwein, and his choirs and choruses over the years. The warmth and generosity of Cora and Al seemed boundless and, for a young Blind Brook teaching staff (many of us started in our early/mid 20’s), she was clearly a surrogate Mom --- and a wonderful role model, heroic in stature, to be sure. So, John Glenn passed away to great fanfare this week --- all of it well deserved. But in my corner of the world, the passing of Cora Lattanzio is a far greater loss. Cora loved life and lived it to the max, with a beautiful smile and a caring heart always. She was not above zinging you with a quick barb, too, which was always fun because you knew, beneath it all, she really loved the people around her. Cora, who devoted her life, love, and energy to Al, to the girls, and to all of us, will be missed for sure, but left us all a great model to live up to. Cora Lattanzio, R.I.P. Creating a new school is a huge endeavor and for a new one to be successful requires careful planning, high energy, and exceptional people at every level. We were fortunate, in those early days, to have David Schein as our principal (along with Harley Dingman and Susie Arkawy in the District Superintendent’s Office) and Cora Lattanzio as his First Officer. It’s hard to imagine Blind Brook creating its energetic, “house of joy” culture without them. The Head
There is a natural inclination, when analyzing institutions --- public or private, athletic, symphonic, economic, or political --- to look at the leadership of what’s being studied. We look at the President, the CEO, the Head Coach, the Conductor to dissect what we really think about the nation, the business, the football team, the symphony orchestra. And so it is with high schools --- the Principal (originally Principal Teacher) is the leader, the focus, the lightning rod. Over 42 years as a professional educator I encountered more than my fair share of Principals and recognized that it is not only a challenging position like those others but very few can lead a Fortune 500 company, conduct the New York Philharmonic, win a Super Bowl, or be considered for a place on Mount Rushmore. David Schein had been the principal at Irvington (NY) High School before taking the position as Blind Brook’s founding principal. Irvington sits about 14 miles to the west of Rye Brook and, demographically, was a comparable district (predominantly white, affluent, NYC suburban), so Dave had some idea of the cultural terrain coming in. The young (37), Harvard educated (BA/MAT) David Schein arrived in Rye Town (later Rye Brook) with a clear progressive vision for this new junior/senior high school --- and proceeded to hire a staff he believed could carry out that vision. David Schein had presence. That is, he was a man who commanded your attention when he entered a room. Tall (6’3” or 4”) with dark hair and intense dark eyes, Dave didn’t have to raise his voice to get your attention --- in fact, his simple quiet presence could silence a room (or auditorium). He often held a Sherlock Holmes pipe (sometimes unlit), which served as a useful prop when making his point. Upon meeting Dave, it didn’t take long to know you were engaging with a deeply thoughtful educator --- and one who had a realistic view of the challenges schooling presented as well as a sense of humor about it. He guided Blind Brook for most of its first decade and it’s hard to imagine what the school might have been without Dave at the helm. Earlier in this narrative I related the story of the “a pitcher, a quarter, and a bucket of water” to illustrate how comfortable the students had become with Dave by 1976, the year of the first graduating class. There are other student stories I will share to further illustrate how Dave was seen by the students. Before that, though, I’d like to relate my own view of Dave and then share the recollections of two of the early staff members to create a clear picture of David Schein, the founding principal of Blind Brook High School. When we look at great leaders in the fields I mentioned earlier --- sports, music, economics, politics --- an important key to any leader’s success is that (s)he is surrounded by a variety of talented people, sometimes characterized as role players. While some of those in (seemingly “lesser”) roles may be quite outstanding (“stars” in their own right) it is the exceptional leader who can bring a variegated group together as a successful/winning team. In Dave’s case, he had the opportunity to hire the bulk of the new staff for the school --- and Dave’s talent was to not only assess teachers (one wants to get the “best", of course) but also see the bigger picture of what the “team” will look like. And here’s where Dave’s commitment to progressive education and vision for Blind Brook dovetailed perfectly. In an ideal educational environment, every student should be able to find (at least) one teacher they can relate to and confide in --- to be their “go-to” person on the staff. Dave’s ability to assemble a staff of committed educators who shared, and understood, his student-centered vision, was uncanny. Let me share the recollection of David Press, our brilliant, eccentric, computer math/artist teacher. David was hired early on to teach computer programming (yes, in the mid-1970’s!) but, as with many BBHS teachers, did far more during his tenure at the school --- as well as create some of the most amazing art you will ever see (davidpressdesigns.com). Here's David Press’s recollection. David Schein, the sole reason Blind Brook was Blind Brook. I can’t say that strongly enough. Usually, a principal gets hired and meets his or her staff. Then over a number of years as staff moves on, a principal gets to hire his or her own staff and maybe try to change the flavor of the place. It can take decades and whatever the ingrained culture was, it’s hard to change slowly person by person and year by year. David Schein!! He was hired away from Irvington High School (he was my younger sister’s principal) to start a new staff almost from scratch - there were a few already there from the Ridge Street staff and culture BUT Dave had the extremely rare chance to establish his own majority culture instantly. It’s a chance administrators dream about but very few get. I think David drooled when he left IHS. So, what was it about his hiring and shaping of the place that made it so special?
Add to that the extraordinary duo of Cora Lattanzio and Sue Arkawy as very long-term community-based powerhouse managers AND one George Trautwein who was the most exceptional educator I ever had the pleasure to work with. Blind Brook in those years owes its spirit of humanity, philosophy of education and the “house of joy” energy to David Schein. It was an honor to be able to contribute to and support BBHS. It also made me smile when other mere mortal administrators after Dave ran up against the then established spirit of a caring and independent staff that was a mainstay of the culture he established. One favorite story about Dave. He drove to work from Irvington listening to WQXR, the classical music station, in the morning. He knew he’d be walking into the main office with Cora and George usually chatting at Cora’s desk. He’d walk into his office, quickly turn in the radio then walk over to Cora’s desk and pointing to his office say something like “Isn’t that Mozart’s Symphony No. 41 in C major?” Of course, he had been sitting in his car waiting for the announcer to name the next piece they were going to play then he’d scurry up the stairs to his office to be there in time to impress George. That was Dave’s impish sense of humor, and I loved him for it. Man, those were the days! Another poignant recollection regarding Dave’s leadership comes from Sal Corda, whose distinguished school Administrator career began working for Dave as an Intern in 1974. Here’s Sal’s story. One of the requirements for certification back then was a full-time administrative internship for a year. Most of them were unpaid but I got lucky. The head of the Ed Admin department knew Harley Dingman, who was looking for an intern for the high school, anticipating that the small high school would need an assistant principal. I was recommended and, fortunately, Harley and Dave decided to give me a chance. That’s how I got to Blind Brook in April, 1974. Dave Schein was the best high school principal I ever saw. He had a vision of what the school could and should be. After everyone went home, we would sit and talk about it. He treated everyone with respect. Dave was an amazing selector of teaching talent. Think of the people he hired. He was very adept at scheduling a school. Small schools are much more difficult to schedule than big schools and Dave was a master at it. Above all, Dave was kids first. He made decisions based on what was best for the kids, and sometimes it got him in trouble. For example, he wouldn’t schedule an AP Bio course until he hired a teacher who he felt cold teach it. When some rather pushy parents (I’m being kind here) came in and complained about it, he stood fast in his rationale and told them, “I’m not going to put kids in an AP class where they won’t be able to be successful just so you can tell your friends at the beauty parlor that your kid is in AP Bio.” Yikes!! Tact was not one of his strong suits. He was about kids first—not parents, not teachers, not pleasing the Board. Dave was a teacher and mentor to me. When, after my internship was over, he hired me for the AP job, he told me, “OK, hot shot, (I was 27), don’t ever forget you are a teacher first.” I never did (I hope). He told me he hired me because he thought I could connect with a group of kids who did not quite fit in the Town of Rye mold, more the Port Chester mold and he did not think he could do that. Can you imagine an experienced high school principal telling a first-time administrator, still wet behind the ears, that he did not think he had what was needed to connect with a group of kids the way they needed someone, and he wanted to find someone with the skill to do it? What humility! What dedication! He taught me what to look for in a lesson; how to schedule a school; what to look for when hiring; all the little things you must pay attention to for a school to run well smoothly and be a place where kids could learn. He never forgot he was a teacher first. He modeled what I needed to know. How lucky I was to learn from the best. The focus on “kid’s first” was Dave’s mantra. I often say Dave only had three priorities regarding Blind Brook: #1 – the kids; #2 – the teachers; #3 – everything else. But let me share two more student stories to complete this portrait of David Schein. Here’s a recollection from Gary Wood, Class of 1983. Brief memory about teachers and David Schein- I was called to Mr. Schein’s office and when I got there my friend was sitting in a chair with tears in his eyes. We had set off a stink bomb earlier in the day. Mr. Schein played good cop, bad cop with us, and I admitted my involvement. (I’m glad he played good cop with me. He’s an imposing figure) Mr. Schein let us go with no punishment. I imagine he thought in the scheme of things it was a harmless sophomore prank. (I think we were sophomores.) I saw him later and apologized because I had initially denied involvement. At the time apologies were particularly uncharacteristic for me. I look back with respect at what I view as a moderate course of action by someone in charge. At this point in my life one of the best things I can do in a stressful situation is to take a breath and think what the moderate course of action is. Thank you, Mr. Schein. Gary’s story reflects Dave’s ability to maintain perspective when working with students --- and how well he knew the students at Blind Brook High School. Another example of that came from Michael Feigin, Class of 1978. I credit David Schein with helping me get into Yale. When the guidance counselor put together a recommended group of schools for me, there were no Ivy League Schools on the list. Mr. Schein asked me why I wasn’t applying to his alma mater, Harvard. When I told him why, he said I shouldn’t be underestimating my abilities, and the worst they could do is say no. So, I applied to Harvard (didn’t get in…waitlisted), and, as you know, several other Ivy League Schools. I got into most of them. Thank you, Mr. Schein. I think one would be hard-pressed to find many school principals who not only know the students in their school (and, yes, BBHS was small – 400 students) but are aware of things like where the seniors are applying to colleges. But that’s what Dave was like --- the kids came first, and he tried to get to know them as best he could. One last story, from John Lipman (Class of 1978) is a good way to finish up this portrait. John is an ecological activist & writer and an author (https://atmospherepress.com/books/alfred-b-delbello-his-life-and-times-by-john-a-lipman/). Here’s John’s story. Voyeur Mission Stanley Kaplan and I knew that the girl’s room was in close proximity to the boy’s room. We could often hear the muffled conversations of girls coming through the ceiling. And those ceilings were suspended ceilings, made largely of removable acoustic tiles resting on metal square frames, interspersed with solid sheet-metal plates. “I wonder what’s up there?” This, we thought, would be our finest hour. We would be legend. So, we had ourselves a peek. Removing one of the tiles, we could see that there was a thin metal crawlway coursing above the ceiling. And it seemed directed toward the girl’s room. Trying to contain my raging teenage hormones, we pulled a chair into the bathroom and crawled into the opening. Stan went first, and I followed. We thought we were being quiet, and that no one would hear us. Soon, we thought, we’d be staring into the girl’s room through one of the air vents, watching them put on make-up, perhaps even seeing one of them lower their trousers to use the toilet. HIGHSCHOOL GIRL BUSH!!! Could it be that I would finally see it? Would God be so great as to reward me on this critical male mission? Oh, be still, my wild gonads!! As Stan crawled forward, we suddenly began to realize the gravity – quite literally – of our situation. As reported by a small group of admirers who had saluted us in the boy’s room upon our send-off, the sheet-metal portion of the ceiling was actually bending down quite dangerously. It was also making noise. Actually, a lot of noise. Our support team who remained below noted in retrospect that it sounded something like a dumpster being banged against the top of a garbage truck. According to Jim Kahn (who later became an attorney and is willing affirm this story into an affidavit), a girl ran out of the restroom, screaming, “Someone’s in the ceiling!” At that point, we began to sense that a commotion below and decided that … it might be best to abort the mission. We crawled back toward the opening, only to see a dark shadow suddenly block the opening. “Is someone else here?” we thought. A head popped through the ceiling into our sacred space. It was David Schein. He had a look on his face that could only be described as bewildered amusement, as if he had been waiting his whole career for this moment. With a broad smile that stretched almost as wide as the opening itself, he said, “Why don’t ya come down here?” Busted. We descended back into the bathroom. I knew Schein was doing everything he could to avoid applauding. One or two other teachers were present (I believe Steve Jones, also with a smile on his face). We actually put our hands against the wall without prompting, as if we were being arrested. After a brief conversation where Schein asked what we were doing up there (knowing full well), we were assigned lunch-room clean-up for the rest of the week. It was a punishment that I greatly enjoyed, and the whole episode still, these many years later, brings a smile to my face. And that, again, tells you a great deal about who David Schein was --- as a principal, as a teacher, as a leader, and, most significantly, as a person. Most of us who taught at Blind Brook High School between 1973 and 1983 recognize that we were fortunate to work with great colleagues and an exceptional principal --- a very, very fortunate pirate crew with a brilliant captain. The Anatomy of Blind Brook I used to feel like the building could breathe. I would think that as I looked at it, walking from the upper parking lot to the glass front doors after my dad would drop me off at 7:30 in the morning in his VW Bug on his way to the train station. I was sure that I could see the building taking in air and letting it out, like a living thing, like a big, observing lion on a hill. Emmy-winning writer, Janet Iacobuzio, BBHS Class of 1980 The best framework I can think of, in writing about and describing the first decade of Blind Brook Jr./Sr. High School is a combination of the anatomical and the romantic/spiritual. That is: a body (the building), a head/brain (David Schein), a heart (George Trautwein), and a Soul (the students and staff). In relating the complete story of the unique endeavor Blind Brook was during that first decade, each of those components needs attention, analysis, and explanation. Janet Iacobuzio’s memory of that building all these years later --- that it was “a living thing” --- reinforces my belief in the need for a thorough autopsy of that first decade. So, let’s wash up, put on those gloves, and get to work! The Building At some point during the school year, in those early years, I would march my classes outdoors (weather permitting) to not only look at our building but to “experience” the space, the openness, the light and the sound or silence. To my mind, the building invited, indeed, required explanation and analysis because it was so unique. It did not, upon first view from the outside say “school” --- and certainly not once you were inside, either. I believed our students needed to consciously experience the SPACE they lived in (and probably took for granted) each day. Sadly, very little trace of the original building remains today therefore it's important to memorialize what the first Blind Brook Jr./Sr. High School was, physically, as that built environment embodied much of the school’s progressive approach to education. “A Building Landed on Our Building” If you were to visit 840 King Street in Rye Brook, New York, today you would drive up a lovely tree-lined incline and see, up to your right, Blind Brook Jr./Sr. High School. The present incarnation of the building bears no resemblance to the original structure that housed the first decade of the school’s existence. There is barely a trace of the building we lived in from 1973 to 1983 --- so much so, Joe Levy (Class of ’82 & former Executive Editor of Rolling Stone Magazine and The Village Voice) commented, “A building landed on our building.” Indeed, that’s what it looks and feels like. The current incarnation of the school reminds me of a piece of New York City history. From 1842 to the 1890’s the Croton Distributing Reservoir sat on Fifth Avenue at 42nd Street. If one is familiar with New York City today, you know that the New York Public Library sits at that address (and has since 1911). However, if you tour the library, you can see stones that are a vestige of the original structure that stood there. In the same way, if you tour the current iteration of BB Jr./Sr. HS you can also see a vestige of the original red-brick structure that was consumed by the new building. Today’s school architecture very much coincides with what would be considered traditional secondary school architecture (and all that implies). Here’s what Wikipedia says about Blind Brook’s history: The original building was considered modern as it contained "open classrooms". This setup contained classrooms that had movable walls and/or bookcases separating them. This made for an interesting and different learning environment since students walking in hallways would also be walking behind classes. The building was designed this way as the district chose to focus around a humanities curriculum that included interdisciplinary studies. Its faculty, a blending of teachers already working on the K-9 Ridge Street staff with new hires committed to the open-space educational concept, began an educational adventure that lasted in spirit for over 20 years. Wikipedia (Bold, mine) It wasn’t just the “open classrooms” that distinguished the new school, though. What Wikipedia fails to document is all the other essential components of the building that contributed to the development of a unique school culture during the first decade. If you happened to be in my class during that time, here’s what you would have learned during “the Tour.” Form Follows Function Starting exactly where Janet Iacobuzio left us, “walking from the upper parking lot to the glass front doors,” here’s what you would encounter. Standing before the building you would first notice that unlike most traditional high schools of that era --- which resembled factories or warehouses with Greek columns at the entrance --- Blind Brook resembled a fortress or citadel, with dark red brick and lots of glass. Leading up to those glass doors was a long walkway of dark gray stones --- a drawbridge spanning the moat between “the world” and our school. As noted earlier, you drive up an incline to reach the school, so it was, indeed, set upon a hill --- like the metaphor used to describe the founding of the American Republic as a “beacon of hope.” Grandiose, perhaps, but not inaccurate. Once you reached those front glass doors, you entered a New World, unlike any school you’d ever been in before. After passing through a set of double glass doors you moved into a foyer bathed in light by the two-story glass windows surrounding the front doors. To your left was a suspended stairway, to your right, a sunken staircase, and directly in front of you a two-story wall of glass with a Commons area ahead and a second-floor walkway (bordered by the glass) suspended above. A double door to your left led into the Commons, with yet more glass walls to your left, looking into the Instructional Media Center (IMC). Entering the Commons was a stunning experience. Picture this: a vast carpeted open area, almost three stories high with angled skylights above, immersing the space in glorious light on sunny days. There was another suspended staircase essentially “hanging” in the Commons, with open slats you could see through --- and your unobstructed view directly ahead revealed a short, recessed stairway to the cafeteria, whose back wall was, of course, windows! In other words, there was a wondrous sense of space, light, openness and, yes, freedom, that the space, the building conveyed as soon as you entered. As you looked up in front of you (and you couldn’t help it --- those skylights drew your eyes up, just as a medieval cathedral’s architecture does) you saw yet another glass wall with a “hallway” that passed before some of the only enclosed areas of the building (the Main Office, Faculty Room, Business Classroom). And up to your right --- more glass walls --- that looked into the Science Labs on the second floor. Up to the left was the second floor’s suspended walkway/”hallway” (with lockers tucked away, off the walk) --- where students could congregate and look into those same Labs. Light, space, openness and, freedom --- and that was just upon entering the building! Why this Story?
(Part One) If you have not read the late Anthony Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential (The Ecco Press, 2000) I recommend you get it and consume it posthaste. It’s a wonderful book in which the author’s voice rings true throughout. Back at the turn of this century it became a cause celebre in the restaurant industry, particularly as The Food Network was exploding as a national phenomenon. I bring Bourdain’s book up here to explain why I’m writing this story --- a story about a unique secondary school that was started in Westchester County, New York fifty years ago. A half-century is a good chunk of time --- presently, 34% of the U.S. population is 50 years old or more --- about one-third of the country. As one who spent most of his professional life teaching history to secondary students (or to aspiring teachers of history), a 50th Anniversary is significant to me. In the last five years we have seen the 50th Anniversary of the MLK and RFK assassinations, the moonwalk and Woodstock, Earth Day and Roe v. Wade. Fifty years ago, I began my first full-time teaching job at Blind Brook Jr./Sr. High School in Rye Brook, N.Y. in September of 1973. At that time, BB Jr./Sr. High School was brand-new and had students in grades 7 through 10, with the plan being to add a grade each year, graduating its first full class in 1976 (4 students graduated early in 1975). More than that, it was a consciously planned interdisciplinary, Arts/Humanities focused school, with a radical open space floor plan (no interior walls!) and a unique glass and brick structure. Some of the early graduates told their college classmates they had attended an “experimental” high school. Most people have attended secondary schools that have been in their community (seemingly) forever. Even in this era of charter schools, it is still unusual to see a brand-new school created from scratch. Yet, in 1973, a school was created where one had not existed before, and its story is worth noting --- not only because of its unique architecture and curriculum but because of the people who attended and taught there. In its first decade (1973-1983) Blind Brook produced a stunning array of graduates (particularly in the Arts/Humanities) and boasted an administration and faculty that, like the school itself, was singularly unique. And that’s where the connection to Anthony Bourdain occurs. The first Blind Brook administration and faculty was notable for their energy, creativity, and youth --- orchestrated by a visionary leader. It was a faculty well-versed in progressive education philosophy and recognized, in their Principal and colleagues, a shared commitment and a clear awareness that we were creating something no one had seen before. And that’s where this quote from Bourdain comes into play: I want readers to get a glimpse of making really good food at a professional level. I’d like them to understand what it feels like to attain the child’s dream of running one’s own pirate crew – what it feels like, looks like and smells like in the clatter and hiss of a big-city restaurant kitchen. . . . I’d like civilians who read this to get a sense, at least, that this life, in spite of everything, can be fun. (Kitchen Confidential, p. 5) Like Bourdain’s book, I’d like to re-create the sights and sounds, successes and failures, of those early years at Blind Brook where, at least some of us, did feel like we were that “child’s dream of (being) one’s own pirate crew.” There was an energy that propelled the school’s creation that felt . . . swashbuckling! We had set out into unchartered waters and, luckily, the man at the helm, David Schein, knew how to set a course that moved us forward, guided us through storms and swells, and kept us headed toward a safe harbor for the crew and its precious cargo (our students). It’s also important to tell this story through the voices of those who were there --- the students, teachers, administrators, and staff. Most people (“civilians”) think they know how schools work because they went to school. To me, that’s like saying you can fly a plane because you’ve been a passenger on an airliner. Unless you’ve spent your days in schools, with students, with other teachers, with administrators, with the staff, for 8 to 10 hours a day, forty to forty-five weeks a year, you have no idea what “life in schools” is like. And here, again, I must quote Bourdain’s “A Note from the Chef” in his book: For me, the cooking life has been a long love affair, with moments both sublime and ridiculous. But like a love affair, looking back you remember the happy times best --- the things that drew you in, attracted you in the first place, the things that kept you coming back for more. I can give the reader a taste of those things and those times. (p.5-6) For me, the teaching life was a similar “love affair” and I’m sure it’s because that first decade at Blind Brook taught me how interesting, exciting, creative, and gratifying spending your days with young people and committed adults can be. I only hope that the stories that follow will convey a fraction of the unique and exceptional experience that first decade at Blind Brook was. (Part Two) In the summer of 2022, I was watching a New York Yankees game when a rookie reliever was brought in during the late innings to pitch for the Bombers. I wasn’t paying much attention until I heard that Greg Weissert went to Bay Shore High School --- my alma mater. Maybe this has happened to you, too --- that someone from your high school has reached a place of notoriety or celebrity. Up to that point in time, the most notable BSHS graduates I knew of were Harvey Milk (Class of ’49, the year I was born), writer Ron Rosenbaum (Class of 1963), and investigative journalist/radio personality Amy Goodman (Class of 1975). And now, Greg Weissert! Given that Bay Shore has graduated anywhere from 350 to 500 students every year since I attended the place (1963-1967) I assumed that most PUBLIC high schools do not, in fact, graduate very many notable luminaries. We know, of course, that the elite private schools crank out people whose names we recognize in the worlds of business, politics, entertainment, literature, etc. And, to a lesser extent, “prestige” public high schools (Stuyvestant & Bronx Science in New York City, for example) also have their fair share of “known” graduates. But most public high schools graduate a handful of people who achieve “celebrity” or “notable” status. Which is why, ultimately, I believe the story of Blind Brook Jr./Sr. High School’s first decade is significant --- and might, I hope, give rise to a discussion about (if not an argument for) the necessity of progressive education in our public schools. If “the proof is in the pudding” then it is significant to peruse what Blind Brook’s “kitchen” produced between 1973 and 1983. The graduates I am going to list are individuals who have achieved not only success in their field but at least a modicum of recognition for their work. Given that Blind Brook was designed to be an Arts/Humanities high school at the outset, it is particularly interesting to note how many writers and artists (in a variety of genres/fields) the school produced. Which is not to say it did not produce notable graduates in business, the sciences, and the culinary world, as well. But it seems more than coincidental that a school that focused on the progressive tenets of student-centered classes, project-based learning, and developing critical thinking skills produced graduates who carried that learning into their careers beyond the classroom. If “the proof is in the pudding” then it seems Blind Brook’s progressive approach to education was, indeed, a success. (Part Three) Without naming names, here are some of the positions achieved and accomplishments of the BBHS graduates from that first decade.
This doesn’t mention all the other successful graduates, of course, who (like teachers) lead productive and enjoyable lives --- and remain an active part of that early Blind Brook Community (thank you, Social Media Networks). In reviewing the list above, it is significant to note how many writers, artists, and arts-related graduates emerged from that first decade at BBHS, when the focus was on a progressive, student-centered Arts/Humanities curriculum. Maybe it’s coincidental, maybe it’s a fluke, but maybe, just maybe, there was something special happening in that place at that time. And that’s “why” this story. Context: Inside the Story
John Dewey is considered the “Father of Progressive Education.” Integral to his conception of what school should be was that it must be “a genuine form of active community life, instead of a place set apart in which to learn lessons.” Dewey’s belief was that school, done right, would be an incubator of democracy. In his words: The good society was, like the good self, a diverse yet harmonious, growing yet unified whole, a fully participatory democracy in which the powers and capacities of the individuals that comprised it were harmonized by their cooperative activities into a community that permitted the full and free expression of individuality. Living in a post-Covid world, the need for community is more important than ever and schools --- which were particularly devastated by the pandemic --- need to be places that are as focused on community-building as they are on making up for the “learning loss” engendered by the pandemic. Given that, it seems a story about building school culture around a notion of community is more important now than ever. And that’s where a glimpse back at an experiment in Progressive Education may be instructive. There are moments in history in which the improbable --- indeed the impossible --- happen. The odds seem impossibly stacked in one direction --- the British Empire versus the North American colonists, the 1969 Baltimore Orioles playing the New York Mets in the World Series, the NFL’s Baltimore Colts against the AFL’s New York Jets in the third Super Bowl, George Foreman fighting Muhammad Ali in Kinshasa, Zaire. Yet, in all these cases the underdog, miraculously, pulled out the victory, stunning the world. On a much smaller and localized scale, for a brief wrinkle in time, a similar “miracle” occurred in a small unincorporated village in Westchester County, New York. There is no doubt that the 1960’s was a period of upheaval and change in the United States – civil rights, the Vietnam war, women’s liberation, and gay rights were the driving political and social movements of the period. Before examining what specifically happened in Rye Brook, New York, let’s define “the Sixties.” When people refer to the “the Sixties” it may evoke images of Jack Kennedy’s election and inaugural address (November 1960 and January 20, 1961). Or Kennedy’s going toe-to-toe with Russia during the Cuban Missile Crisis in October 1962. But I would contend that “the Sixties” don’t really begin until 1963 --- and don’t end until 1974. Why 1963 to 1974? Consider the following: “The Sixties,” as we know them, were propelled by Baby Boomers. The “Baby Boom” began in 1946 --- and those people were reaching College Age in 1963.
And it’s during this period that a “revolution” was occurring in an unexpected ---and unlikely setting --- an affluent suburb of New York City. It’s important to note that while there were political and social revolutions transpiring in the world of “liberation” (Blacks, women, gays, indigenous Americans, et al), as well as a vigorous anti-War movement, changes were afoot in the world of education as well. It’s significant that as Baby Boomers ascended to the position of becoming the “best/most educated” generation in U.S. history, there was a new wave of reform/revolution breaking shore in the world of education --- and a host of writers emerged in the late-Sixties/early Seventies popularizing a New Wave of progressive reform. In a paper presented to the Australian Association for Research in Education (AARE)in 1978, Professor Murray Print discussed “The Romantic Critics: Implications for Schooling and Learning in Australia.” Several the “romantic critics” cited in this paper --- Jonathan Kozol, James Herndon, John Holt, A.S. Neill, and Ivan Illich --- were among the most influential progressive writers who directly influenced many of the new teachers entering the field of education in the late-Sixties/early-Seventies --- and certainly many of the new teachers at Blind Brook Jr./Sr. High School. According to Print’s paper, tenets promoted by the “romantic critics” included:
2. They have greeted with skepticism the values and attitudes in schooling. They have described with incredulity, the attitudes of teachers and the methods they have employed. 3. The affective development of children has been a readily demonstrated concern of the critics. They deplore the practices of schools in emphasizing the child’s cognitive development while neglecting his affective growth. 4. An emphatic message of the radical reform movement is that schooling should not be accepted as it existed in the 1960s. 5. Teachers can and do play significantly different roles. Meaningful, helpful, supportive relationships can exist between teacher and student, though the onus for establishing such relationships is on the teacher. . . . These teachers are not dominating, petty, apathetic, coercive, or bombastic, rather they view their role as facilitator, to encourage the child to develop what is best for him. There is a clear focus on student-centered education and the affective domain in the work of the Sixties/Seventies reformers. In 2000, the prominent education philosopher Maxine Greene reviewed a decade of publications from the University of Illinois Education School’s Educational Theory --- looking back on what was being discussed in school reform. She, too, notes the “romantic criticism of public education” and cites Paul Goodman, Edgar Friedenberg, John Holt, George Dennison, James Herndon, and Jonathan Kozol as well. In reviewing their work, Greene detects: Echoes of Emersonianism were audible, a pleasant libertarianism, a touch of Rousseau, certain aspects of Deweyan thought. Here and there new schools, “free schools,” were established. Greene goes on to mention her own encounter, in the late Sixties, with Paolo Friere (his Pedagogy of the Oppressed is a touchstone tome for progressive reformers of that era) and his “new recognition of how persons are trained, by means of assessment and sorting devices, to accommodate a stratified society. The contradictions involved troubled many educators, even those of us who still believed the common school can become a site for democratic modes of thinking and being.” Indeed, Friere’s notion of “banking education,” in which teachers make “deposits” (content) to students that are then “withdrawn” (year-end testing), leaving empty vessels, was a strong metaphor that influenced many a young teacher at the time. Continuing, Greene notes that the literature of the period “wanted to see a reflective examination of . . . ‘roles and rules’ . . . more ‘socially . . . relevant and comprehensively grounded ethical conclusions.” In all, there was a focus on “the importance of educating secondary students in the responsibilities of a free society . . . to nurture . . . the democratic way of life.” Greene, the pre-eminent education philosopher of the late 20th century, always looked for ways in which philosophy, as a discipline, intersected with praxis --- the actual “doing” of education. That said, it is not surprising that her reflection on the Sixties/Seventies school reform movement was this: Philosophy is viewed here, not as the governing discipline, but as a way of posing critical questions of the moment to the school and the society. The view of the situation, like the view of political education, opened the way to an approach to education in continuing transaction with salient issues in the culture. The choices of these issues or of what constituted a situation were to be made reflectively by teachers in dialogue with one another and with at least minimal familiarity with the doing of philosophy. Most important, they were to become the questions of real significance to the community and to the projects teachers might chose for themselves as they moved ahead in their teaching lives. For those who think teachers simply “show up” and teach a “subject,” I would point to the Faculty and Administration that inhabited the Blind Brook Jr./Sr. High School in its first decade to dispel such notions. The awareness and familiarity the administration and staff (and community, for that matter) had with the writers and philosophers who shaped the progressive reform agenda of the Late Sixties/early Seventies was front and center. If you spent more than five minutes in the BBHS Faculty Room, you would have witnessed exactly what Greene is describing when she says “The choices of these issues . . . were to be made reflectively by teachers in dialogue with one another “ --- over and over again. To understand what made Blind Brook Jr./Sr. High School so unique in its first decade, one must understand the deep philosophical foundation the school was built upon. Even if a teacher couldn’t quote chapter and verse or hadn’t read any or many of the authors noted here, the ongoing, incessant conversations that dominated the time the staff spent together built the momentum that carried the school through its first decade and made it, indeed, a unique endeavor. Mr. Petes & The Moment
A particular highlight of the first year at Blind Brook Jr./Sr. High School (1973-74) was developing a friendship with Peter Tarshis. One of the most brilliantly creative people I have ever known, Peter had recently graduated from Union College in upstate New York and was living around the corner from me in Rye Brook, where his Mom was the Health/Sex Ed. Teacher in the district. While figuring out his future, Peter (“Mr. Petes”) began substituting at Blind Brook and we quickly became fast friends, based on our mutual love for New York sports (the Knicks & Yankees), the arts (theater, film, cartooning, et al) and our left-handedness. During that first year at Blind Brook, we spent countless hours going into New York City --- to Madison Square Garden, to Yankee Stadium, to the theater. Peter introduced me to the Wooster Group, the Ontological Hysterical Theater, Andre Gregory’s fabulous experimental production of Alice in Wonderland, and, most significantly, Sam Shepard’s early works (The Tooth of Crime, Cowboy Mouth). Because he was substituting so frequently, we found ourselves working and “playing” together all the time --- and it was a blast! I knew I’d be working at Colgate in the summer of 1974 (as a “Graduate Student Liaison & Video Supervisor”) and encouraged Peter to apply to the program. The way I saw it, he could get his certification (and a master’s degree) in a year and then a full-time job at Blind Brook (we had no doubt David Schein would hire him --- he was a natural in the classroom). We could then continue our adventures in and around New York City --- what could be better? And, in fact, that’s what happened. Peter got into Colgate, did a teaching internship at Eastern Middle School in Greenwich, Connecticut, one semester (so we got to continue hanging out) and, by the fall of 1975, began teaching at Blind Brook as a full time English/Drama teacher. An interesting sidebar involves that summer in Colgate, 1974. In Peter’s cohort were several notable people. A former schoolmate of Peter’s at Union, Jamie Jacobs --- a brilliant math/science scholar and gymnast, was in the group, as was Del Shortliffe, a newly minted Morehouse Scholar graduate of the University of North Carolina. The four of us quickly became inseparable on the Colgate campus that summer (and in and around the town of Hamilton --- where Del’s aunt lived!), forging friendships that have withstood the test of time. The plan that Peter and I had idealistically hatched during his substitute year came to fruition in the fall of 1975 with Peter becoming a full time English and Drama teacher at BBHS. A side note: David Schein wanted to hire Del, too, but felt he couldn’t hire two English teachers from Colgate at the same time, as he had already hired me, Roger Smith, Mike Nyhan, and Bill Metzler (a math teacher who was in Peter’s cohort) --- worrying that people would think he had some kind of kickback deal with Colgate. Del, of course, was hired in 1977, as soon as another English position opened up --- but that’s a story for another time. Peter Tarshis’s impact on Blind Brook Jr./Sr. High School in that first decade was incalculable. His development of the drama program --- as well as his work with George Trautwein’s wonderful musical productions --- was stunning. I’m not sure if Peter was ever aware of how much his enthusiasm for dramatic theater and his ability to translate that into brilliant teaching effected not only his students but also his colleagues. As a result of working with (and learning from) Peter, I had no qualms about taking on producing and directing school plays when I taught in Winchester and Bronxville. After a decade at Blind Brook, Peter was looking to move beyond teaching high school, professionally, and in 1986 he directed a music video that won the MTV Basement Tapes contest (for “Boys” by the Triplets) which included the group getting a contract with Elektra Records. Shortly after, Peter left BBHS, beginning a very successful career as an Emmy winning producer and executive vice-president at the A & E Network. Nonetheless, like any great teacher, Peter’s influence is still felt by the students he worked with at Blind Brook. As I’ve been compiling stories about the first decade of our unusual “no-walls” progressive school, I received the following narrative from Marc Ackerman, Class of 1985. I believe it speaks to how special Blind Brook --- and particularly Peter’s work there --- was. The Blind Brook Moment I consider my years in BBHS (1981-1985) to be the late stage of its “golden era.” The more progressive ‘70’s had yielded to the more conservative ‘80’s, with Dave Schein no longer roaming the halls and Ronald Reagan leading the country. There was even talk about building walls in classrooms and restricting the school’s open campus. The walls were literally closing in. But fortunately, my classmates and I were still able to experience that unique BB magic. Del Shortliffe took an expansive view of the English curriculum, taking time in class to introduce us to the jazz stylings of Charlie “Bird” Parker’s and the avant garde prog rock of David Byrne and the Talking Heads. Zach Charon taught us how to make tofu in Physics, which I’m sure made perfect sense at the time. We made our own video games in computer class with Dave Press, whose corny jokes masked that he was teaching us valuable problem-solving skills and what we now known as coding. Gary Cialfi, that intimidating, and irascible, but ultimately kind and goofy music director, whipped us into mastering the classics in concert band, and then encouraged us to put aside our scores and explore the vague wonders of improvising solos in jazz band. The band and choir traveled to Italy to learn more about the world and ourselves. And, ultimately, the campus remained open and free periods were genuinely free, giving us the ability to make some choices we’d regret and some we’d be proud of, but all of which helped us understand ourselves better. For me, the real magic happened every spring when I opened the doors to that small black, rectangular studio we called the LGI (Large Group Instruction Room), and began rehearsals for the spring play with Pete Tarshis. I can still hear Pete’s laugh during auditions. He’d throw out a few random words and ask you to improvise a monologue using them–a near impossible task for an awkward teenager that Pete would make easier by laughing heartily at any choice you’d make. And then rehearsals would start, and we’d create entire worlds within those LGI walls. Pete would ask us to imagine our characters’ lives beyond the script and stage directions, asking us as we lay on the stage in a semi-meditative state: What does your character’s room look like? What objects are there? How does your character feel when you see those objects? Then we’d slowly rise and walk around the stage and do our best to adopt our character’s physicalities. How do they walk? How do they sit or stand? How do they smile or frown? We did this every day and it never felt repetitive or unnecessary. Pete somehow kept it fresh and important, and encouraged any choice we made. Pete’s approach to directing was not to dictate to his actors, but to provide them the tools to make their own choices. We somehow knew that none of our choices were wrong–they were simply ours. How about that for a life lesson? I couldn’t wait to get to the LGI every day for rehearsal, and I hated to leave. It was not unusual for cast members to arrive early or linger at the end just to soak in a few more minutes together. Which is why there were always mixed emotions when it came time for the performances. We were excited to share our work with family and friends, but we knew it would be over soon. Pete sensed this, and in his perfectly understated way prepared us for it. The day of each opening performance, he told us: You’ve got a lot going through your heads right now–lines, blocking, costumes, homework and more. But don’t pass up the opportunity to remember a moment. That moment is the one when the lights are down, the play is about to begin and you’re ready to make your first entrance. In that moment, take stock of how you are feeling. Feel the nervousness, the excitement, the anticipation, and the fear. Remember the work you’ve put in to get you to that moment and feel proud. Really drink in that feeling and connect to it. There is nothing like it. To this day, I can put myself back in those moments. I can conjure up precisely how I felt just prior to my first entrances, experiencing those emotions as vividly now as I felt them then. Pete and all the teachers, students and administrators that made up the BB institution gave us the gift of moments that enable us to put ourselves back in BB at any time in our lives. My moments were in the spring play, but everyone who passed through BB has such a “moment.” This ability to connect with our past makes it easier to face the challenges of the present. I also learned to try to recognize the important junctures in life and, in those moments, take a beat to be present. Remember what I am feeling so that someday I can look back and feel how I felt then. It’s a priceless exercise that has made my life fuller and more fulfilling. This wonderfully articulate expression about Peter’s teaching (as well as that of Del and David Press and Zac Charon and Gary Cialfi) is just one of the narratives I’ll be sharing in my effort to capture the unique experience that Blind Brook was during that first decade, 1973-1983. The New Trump University
If you’ve been watching television the last few weeks, you may have seen some advertisements encouraging you to take free online courses from Hillsdale College. The offerings I have seen are for “Constitution 101,” “The True Story of Our America,” and “Discover the Origins and Key Ideas of the Modern American Left.” Knowing a little bit about Hillsdale --- it’s an independent, Christian college in southern Michigan which does not accept Federal funding of any kind and has become a darling of politicians like Ron DeSantis --- I was particularly interested in seeing what the content of “Origins of the Modern American Left” might be. The New Yorker’s April 3, 2023 issue ran an article by Emma Green entitled “The Christian Liberal-Arts School at the Heart of the Culture Wars” about Hillsdale. According to Green: The Hillsdale education has several hallmarks: a devotion to the Western canon, an emphasis on primary sources over academic theory, and a focus on equipping students to be able, virtuous citizens. There is no department of women’s and gender studies, no concentrations on race and ethnicity. It’s a model of education that some scholars consider dangerously incomplete. It’s also a model that communities across the country are looking to adopt. That description may seem innocuous --- the glaring omissions of race/class/gender studies notwithstanding. But there’s more to Hillsdale than that, and therein lies its popularity with the MAGA-oriented public. For the past 20 years, under the leadership of Larry Arnn, Hillsdale has established itself as a college that has not been sucked into the left-wing woke downward cultural spiral. While it claims it is not partisan, their website states: Sadly, reports show that increasing numbers of schools are indoctrinating students with a false and dishonest narrative of our nation’s history, presenting America as essentially and irredeemably flawed. Your Liberty Walk brick shows that you’re on the battlefield of education, promoting the knowledge and understanding necessary to preserve liberty. “Liberty Walk” features statues of Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thachter, lined with a donor-sponsored brick walkway. Green notes in her article, that as she walked around the campus “it was also impossible not to notice the whiteness of the student body and the faculty. Every professor I met was a white man, except Khalil Habib, a politics professor, who is Lebanese Catholic. Hillsdale pointedly refuses to compile statistics on its students’ racial backgrounds.” She also reports the campus is not exactly LGBQT friendly, as one might suspect. Perusing a list of the College’s guest lecturers also speaks to the school’s orientation: Clarence Thomas, Amy Coney Barrett, Dnesh D’Souza, and Christopher Rufo who, according to Green, is “the researcher and conservative activist who spearheaded the campaign against critical race theory, (he) gave a talk at the school last spring called “Laying Siege to the Institutions,” in which he argued that conservatives will never win the fight against progressivism “if we play by the rules set by the élites who are undermining our country.” That said, I decided to look at what the online course advertised as “Discover the Origins and Key Ideas of the Modern American Left” might be teaching prospective Hillsdale students. One of the first things one discovers when you hit the link for this course is that the actual title is: “The American Left: From Liberalism to Despotism,” which certainly says a lot. Claiming to provide an “in-depth explanation” of how the political Left became “radical,” the link claims that by taking the course “you’ll discover:
Hardly the language of an institution that claims to be “non-partisan.” But let’s consider what each of these bullet-points is really stating. “The differences between midcentury liberals and the radicals who revolted against them.” One can only assume this means that the late-Sixties “liberation” movements (Civil rights, gay rights, women’s rights, indigenous people’s rights, worker’s rights, etc.) were further Left than the Establishment’s “New Deal” (midcentury)liberals. We can’t quibble with that distinction. New Deal liberals had given a wide berth to the segregationist Southern Democrats/Dixiecrats who, because of Lyndon Johnson’s “radical” Civil Rights legislation (Voting Rights Bill, Civil Rights Bill), migrated to Nixon’s Republican Party (the “Southern Strategy”) in 1964. In Hillsdale’s ecosystem, the move away from white, male-dominated political power is, in fact, a move toward “despotism.” “How post-sixties radicals gained power in government bureaucracies and educational institutions.” While it is difficult for me to find any evidence that this a true statement, Hillsdale College believes this --- as do MAGA-supporting Republicans and it fuels their anger and “victimization” conspiracy theories. Let’s look at some facts: since 1972, where have “post-sixties radicals gained power?” Certainly not in the federal executive, legislative, or judicial branches! And, while there is great sturm-und-drang regarding the supposed “indoctrination” happening at universities across the country, all polling shows a strikingly evenly divided nation: Gallup’s March 2023 numbers are 25% Democrat, 25% Republican, 49% Independent. Since 1972 the Presidency has been controlled by Republicans for 28 years and the Democrats for 24, with control of the House and Senate almost equally divided as well. The Supreme Court, since the demise of the Warren Court in 1969 has become more and more Conservative --- hardly a group of “post-sixties radicals.” This Hillsdale course, then, has some questionable premises underpinning it. “The principles of neoliberalism that arose in the late 1970s and how these ideas changed the morality and economy of America.” Clearly, the “changes in morality” has to do with women’s reproductive rights and gay rights --- rights a white, male dominated culture cannot tolerate. The changes in the economy, one would have to guess, have to do with what the Right believes is the establishment of a “socialist Welfare State.” The incessant attack on “entitlements” (Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid, Food Stamps, C.H.I.P.S., Veterans programs, unemployment compensation, etc.)from the Right --- and in this course (?) --- is a central plank of the MAGA “platform.” "The reasons America’s political and business elite embraced the woke ideology of the Left during Barack Obama’s second term.” The buzzwords here are obvious: “America’s political and business elite” and “woke ideology.” The animus the Maga-Right holds for what they label “political and business elite” has grown out of the Tea Party and MAGA white, male fear of losing power and dominance over politics and business. Once again, it is not at all clear WHO these people are, exactly, other than anyone who holds even a remotely progressive view of how business and politics should operate. In the same way, very few on the Right can clearly or precisely define “woke ideology” other than it being anything connected with progressive ideas about economics, civil rights, education, or social justice. The final statement for the Hillsdale “Liberalism to Despotism” course is this: These lessons are designed to explain the nature and direction of politics today and to provide a path for a return to republican government in America. It is interesting how a school that supports a political movement which consistently denies a variety of groups their voting rights, a political movement which overtly gerrymanders districting (through state legislatures) to maintain “supermajorities” to subvert the will of the people and supports demagogues and right-wing “radicals” can claim to “provide a path for a return to republican government.” In the wake of the January 6th insurrection, Hillsdale College, and its “Christian liberal-arts” orientation seems hypocritical, at best, and dangerous at worst. |
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