With a new building awaiting and a 50th-anniversary approaching, L-S is
about to step across the threshold into a new era. A Herculean effort went
into the new edifice that now stands shining before us. With the passage
of time, inevitably comes the need for change, much of it good. But
there’s also a lot worth remembering about that first half-century in our
present location.

First off, honor must be paid to this leaky pile of bricks. After all,
buildings are people too, or at least their character helps give form to
our lives. After WWII, Churchill ordered that the bombed-out Parliament
building be rebuilt exactly as it had been before the war. “The spaces we
create,” he explained, “shape us.”

To appropriate Churchill’s thought, this place shaped us perhaps more
than we have appreciated. When periodic expansion was necessary, the
building just kept creeping along horizontally, forming courtyards as it
went. These courtyards, though underutilized, were beautiful. And the fact
that we were all more or less on the same level meant that we kept flowing
through each other’s lives. We could feel at ease with students hanging
out because we were usually able to supervise them (more or less) in the
course of just going about our business. We bumped into each other a whole
lot in these halls. Like a Galapagos Island mini-ecosystem, the haphazard
architecture of this place favored and nurtured the development of an
eccentric culture, though this surely wasn’t planned.

More than this, wonderful things have happened here, which is why
students were so willing to join hands and give the building a big
affectionate hug on our 40th anniversary in 1996. There were and continue
to be so many great classes taught by a dedicated, interesting faculty
that never developed a time-clock mentality, but always placed students at
the center of things. There were terrific plays put on by Rogers and
Kirshner and later by the Plotts and Germanotta, their creative genius
challenged (ok, sometimes to the breaking point) by the seriously
inadequate facilities. We have been fortunate in having several teachers
who’ve established rich choral and musical traditions here. And what
creative work poured out of our art rooms and shops!

There have been more Holocaust remembrances, Metco diaspora luncheons,
food bank trips, Jimmy Mack AIDS marches, and camping expeditions than can
be counted. (And, by the way, thank you to that counter in student
services that supported many a petition drive!) Clubs grew here like
mushrooms after rain, from GSA to Tibet to Seinfeld to Amnesty and beyond.
How about thrilling sports victories and even state championships? How
about unbelievable heart on field and court and in the water? You
bet!...and of course our share of heartbreaking defeats. Publications?
Sure. Try the Fountain, Dyad, the Promethean, the Forum, Echoes, and the
Mosaic. Across our nearly 50-year history, there were two mass walkouts by
students who decided that classes aren’t always the most important thing,
and once student activists even built a Soweto shantytown right on the
property, very close to where the rainbow flag was raised a year or so
ago. From this building, amazing trips went out to every corner of the
globe. And here were developed so many alternative and imaginative
programs, all of them trying to reach kids who were lost but who really
wanted to be found. There were passionate murals painted on walls, mostly
with permission. And, this old building has hosted more than its share of
great assemblies, festivals, and concerts, from the old SpringThing to
Gospel nights to MLK’s birthday to Tuvan throat-singing to Navaho
code-talking.

And yes, there were arguments, debates, and even occasional incivilities.
When I was a young teacher, the library appeared to me like the well of
Congress, and it was Calhoun vs. Webster week after week, or so it seemed.
I see now that the fireworks went off because we all cared so much. Under
our leaky roof, there have also been real friendships formed between
students and staff and between colleagues–a few of whom even fell in
love.

The society created within these walls –the “L-S Community,” as we came
to call it–welcomed and embraced everyone. Whether you were professional
staff, administrative support, building and grounds, or students, there
was a mutual respect and appreciation for all. Friendships jumped easily
over job titles. In how many other school buildings has this occurred?

Very sad things also happened during our life here, and these need to be
remembered as well. Here we learned about the Challenger disaster on one
cold mid-term exam day. And none of us will ever forget where we were when
we first heard about 9/11. Now there’s one memory that can never be
demolished. Whenever we chance to think about that day–and there will be
many occasions no doubt–we’ll return in our minds to the hallways of the
old L-S. There were many hushed conversations here, as we learned about
the deaths of colleagues and students, whether through tragic illnesses,
or in terrible accidents, or by their own hand. We even had students who
were murdered. These are losses and shocks one never gets over. I remember
the day that school closed down so that we could all attend the funeral of
our revered assistant principal, Frank Heys. Along with the laughter,
debates, and gossip, much grief has been shared in this building over
these past five decades. There were deaths in this family.

Like people, buildings have a life that begins and ends. Last year, when
the old Massachusetts Mental Health Center (affectionately known as “Mass
Mental”) was closed pending its demolition, the devoted staff marked the
occasion by literally carpeting the three floors of the hospital with
flowers. A place of absolute last resort for the most unfortunate among
us, Mass Mental went out “in bloom.” Such a moving and unique
commemoration! What if a flower was placed in this building for every
wonderful thing that ever happened here? I think old L-S would become the
largest and most beautiful bouquet in the world.

There’s been so much life and energy here that this old building had to
struggle to contain it. Maybe that’s how the leaks began, who knows?

Yes, something happened here–and that “something” expanded our view of
what a public high school could be. That’s a pretty fair legacy

A new building waits, and I’ve heard that it’s hi-tech “connected.” Let’s
hope that like its predecessor, it will also provide a warm, supportive
home for a progressive vision of education, that more energy will course
though it than even miles of tackboard could possibly contain, and that
life, ideas, creative disorder, spontaneity, and passion will always be
pressing on its seams.

Farewell, L-S. Thanks!

Welcome, L-S. Here we come!

Bill Schechter
May 2004