Opening Day Remarks

The University of Chicago Laboratory Schools

Opening Day Remarks

August 31, 2004
David W. Magill, Director of UCLS

Building Cathedrals

There he is. John Dewey explaining the difference between education and schooling . . . The John Dewey . . . perhaps the greatest American philosopher of the 20th Century . . . former professor of philosophy, psychology, and pedagogy at the University of Chicago, and yes, founding father of an experimental elementary school located several blocks from here that, within a short period of time, became known as the Laboratory School of the University of Chicago. We are all here today, to some degree, because of him.

Good morning and welcome back. In case you forgot, I'm David Magill, and I'm delighted to be your colleague on this opening day of the 2004-2005 school year. What an incredible summer! I think that I watched more television in two months than I have in two years. The Democratic convention in July, the Olympics in August, and now we have the Republicans going at it. But lest you think I was a just a lazy couch potato and a passive recipient of information, I also actively pursued professional growth. Admittedly, it was not the most exciting choice I could have made as I chose to further my understanding of the ruminations and reasoning of John Dewey. I tried very hard to get into the head of this man and to gain an understanding of his impact on not only our schools, but also on American education as a whole. For part of the summer, I even tried to grow into his mustache. As witnessed in the brief video you just viewed, Professor Dewey was not an effervescent personality! Trust me, his writing is even more laborious and even less entertaining.

One hundred years ago almost to the day, Dewey left Chicago to become a member of Columbia University's faculty. He left here very disenchanted with the U. of C. and especially with its first president, William Rainey Harper. While his educational theories and ideas were creating a great deal of interest outside of Chicago, Dewey was treated as a prophet without honor in his own land. By all accounts, he was a poor administrator of the school that he began. Operating an experimental program was far costlier than tuition and University assistance would support. In frustration, he turned over the day-to-day management to his wife, Alice. His delegation turned out to be a huge mistake, as Alice was not a big hit with the faculty. In reality, if it had not been for the benevolence of Anita McCormick Blaine and the merger with Colonel Francis Parker's Chicago Institute, Dewey's experiment would have been short lived.

My objective today is not to review history or to preach to you about the greatness of the person who is most frequently associated with the Laboratory Schools. First of all, you can learn about both in a much better way by reviewing Bill Harms and Ida Depencier's Experiencing Education or a good primer on Dewey by Alan Ryan called John Dewey and the High Tide of American Liberalism. Secondly, I really don't buy into much of Dewey's work after he left Chicago. While provocative and interesting, his pragmatic philosophy of life and his ideas on spirituality, a common faith, and aesthetic experience just don't mesh with my background, beliefs, and traditions.

Instead, I want to address what I believe to be the legacy of John Dewey. (After all, the last sentence in our mission statement says "in keeping with John Dewey's legacy.") When Dewey came to the University of Chicago, he was an idealist who carefully observed child development. He rightfully believed and expressed a constructivist view of learning . . . that knowledge is actively constructed by the learner and not passively received from the environment. He believed that schools must address what today is referred to as the whole child, but even more important, that schools must prepare a child for the full range of activities in which adults are engaged. He believed that schools had a moral responsibility to educate children for democratic citizenship and, in so doing, the welfare of our society would be advanced. Dewey was a big picture kind of guy. He was not content to concentrate on the pieces. He put his ideas together into a vision that sustains our ideology today. John Dewey had the courage to implement his vision in a house on 57th Street. As a tribute to him, one journalist referred to Dewey as the "man who saved our children from dying of boredom." That is his legacy. And while not intended, Dewey's ideas and the people who followed them changed the world. Dewey built cathedrals!

As I mentioned before, I enjoy watching and listening to the speeches at Political conventions. Some have been memorable . . . most have not. Standing alone among those who are running for office was the keynote speaker of the Democratic Convention, our own Barack Obama. Maybe it is because he and his wife have a close association with the Lab Schools . . . maybe it is because he resides here in Hyde Park . . . maybe it is because he was the commencement speaker for U-High last June . . . whatever it was, on that evening in July, he was most compelling. He wove his personal story into the Constitution's declaration that "all men are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights." He spoke about the true genius of America being a faith in simple dreams and an insistence on small miracles. He acknowledged that there was a great deal of work to do to become better, and he mocked the political pundits who insist upon slicing and dicing our country into weakness. He concluded with a call for us to participate in the politics of hope. His superbly developed, well timed, and masterfully delivered speech painted a picture of the whole. This is not a political endorsement but, on that night, Barack Obama built cathedrals.

Four months before I arrived in Chicago and began my formal association with the Laboratory Schools, I received a three-page typed letter (single spaced!) from a member of the faculty. It arrived at my home in Pennsylvania, and it began like this:

Dear Dr. Magill,
Thank you for taking the job of Laboratory Schools Director. I'm an experienced teacher at Lab and it occurred to me that if our positions were reversed, I might welcome a note from someone who had been around the block a time or two. Hence, this letter.

The letter continued to address several points including:

the perceived and real problems and opportunities with our University connection,
the inadequacy of current resources to do what needs to be done,
the best thing about the Schools - the student body, and
our lack of vision and direction (and this was written shortly after our Strategic Plan was crafted!).

It was the last point that bothered me most, and I have spent the last year attempting to do something about it. I believe that we inherited a powerful vision from our founder. I believe that the vision has been improved upon by scores of people associated with Lab during our one-hundred-plus year history, and I believe that we have clear direction for the future. I just don't think that it has been articulated well, and I don't think that leadership has acted upon it consistently.

The vision was included in your welcome back letter. By reducing it to writing, I attempted to capture the best of our rich history, included commitments to our professionalism, outlined expectations to current and prospective students, and provided a process whereby our organization should continue to be dynamic. It is my intention to further develop this vision through my monthly On the Same Page articles that are found on Lab's website with a new article on the first day of each month. Our vision is not something that should fall into the all too familiar chasm of ambiguity.

And, so I answer that faculty member who, over a year and a half ago, had the courage to write an impassioned letter, that we have a vision, that we have a direction with measurable annual goals and objectives, and that when we as individuals share them together, this organization will also build cathedrals.

Cathedrals . . . This word deserves an explanation . . . and so I will conclude by telling a story that is set during medieval times. One day, a boy was walking through a forest when he came upon a great number of men who were obviously building something. The boy went up to one of them and asked what he was doing. "I'm carving stone," the workman replied. While the answer was truthful, it did not add much to the child's understanding of what was happening. The boy approached another worker and posed the same question.

The second workman replied that he was carving stone to build a building. The child knew that he was getting closer to the answer, so his curiosity was piqued. He approached a third worker and asked him what he was doing.

The workman answered, "Why I'm carving stone to build a building. In fact the building will be a cathedral. It will rise hundreds of feet into the air and will stand for centuries. Thousands of people will come here to worship God and connect with their highest possible purpose."

At one level, each of the workmen was doing the same job. They were carving stone. Yet the vision they held for their work was very different and was so very obvious to the young boy.

My friends, without a vision, we are merely carving stone. We are merely coming to work without direction. But if we see the big picture, if we share the vision, then like John Dewey did one hundred years ago, like a state senator from Illinois did on a night in July, we too will build cathedrals. We have the raw materials ... We have the tools ... Let's get to work!