Opening Day Remarks

The University of Chicago Laboratory Schools

Opening Day Remarks

Opening Day Remarks: Lessons from Punahou

August 30, 2005
David W. Magill, Director

Inspiration is not limited by location, time, or age. As a matter of fact, one can be inspired under some very unusual circumstances. Such was the case with me early this summer and is the subject of a first day back-to-school story that I've been waiting to tell.

This first day back is many things to each person here. But to all of us, it is the day in which we are asked more than once, "How was your summer?" Invariably, we end up talking about our vacations, our families, and what we did professionally. It's not even 9:00 a.m. and, already, most of us have been engaged in this conversation on multiple occasions.

Just in case I haven't told you, my summer was great, and it was highlighted by a professional conference in June. I was invited to join the heads of the eight largest independent schools in America for a three-day conference in Honolulu, Hawaii. Now before you think, "Oh yeah, real tough assignment," you should know that the two largest independent schools, Kamehameha and Punahou, are both in Hawaii, and they, as hosts, were serious about planning a meaningful agenda. Surfing, beach volleyball, and attendance at native sushi bars were not on it. This fledgling school group had many issues in common, including the sizes of our schools, and it made sense to get to know these people and compare both soft and hard data with them . . . and so I accepted their invitation and looked forward to a new experience.

For some reason, I had locked in my mental calendar that the conference dates were Wednesday through Friday and believed that I had booked my flight out of Chicago early Wednesday morning in order to be there just in time for an opening dinner. Late on Tuesday night, I started packing and took out my itinerary to see if I had been assigned seats. To my horror, I discovered that my scheduled departure for Hawaii was earlier that day. I had missed my flight with non-refundable tickets. Immediately, I called the airline, waited nearly a half hour to speak with a live person, who then told me that I needed to get to O'Hare immediately in order to rebook the flight for the next morning. It could not be done online or on the phone. So off to O'Hare I went, and I managed to get the last seat on a 6:00 a.m. flight the next day. Angry and upset with myself, I knew there was no way I was going to get to sleep that night and, besides, I figured that I could catch up on the eight-hour flight to Honolulu. Wrong! The plane was filled with Chicago families beginning their vacations, and the energy they generated was far too much to overcome.

So I arrived at the conference a little late, embarrassed, and very sleep deprived, but the next two days were both interesting and informative. Most impressive was the time I spent at the Punahou School.

Arguably, Punahou has the most beautiful view of any school in America. It is on the main island overlooking the cityscape of Waikiki Beach, Diamond Head and, of course, the coral blue Pacific. It was started as a school for missionary children in 1841 and over the years has grown to become America's largest independent school on one campus. Over 3,700 students from Kindergarten through Grade 12 attend Punahou with their high school, known as the Academy, graduating over 400 students each year. There is a strong Asian influence among the student body, and Japanese, Chinese, and Hawaiian are among their foreign language offerings. Most of the graduates attend colleges and universities on the mainland, and among their famous graduates are Stephen Case of America-On-Line fame and, of course, our own Barack Obama.

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to extend my trip without incurring a substantial financial penalty. So, on Friday afternoon I took the red eye flight back to Chicago hoping for a non-eventful and restful trip home. Wrong again! My assigned seat was right next to the three washrooms in the main cabin and the frequent sounds of SWOOSH kept me from falling asleep. I am now convinced that wearing a seatbelt when seated next to an airplane's washroom is to protect passengers from being sucked down with each flush. In between those flushes is when I found my inspiration. For you see, my mind kept drifting back to my short time at Punahou and what was so special about who they were and what made me feel so good about being there.

Now, you should know that I wouldn't trade the Laboratory Schools for Punahou or any school for that matter. Our rich history, this city which I have so quickly come to love, the association with the University of Chicago, you, the families who choose to send their children to us and, of course, Lab students themselves are simply incomparable. But there are things that we can learn from other schools, especially those with a large enrollment having similar issues to ours. And so I share with you four themes centered on Hawaiian words: aloha and ho'okipa, 'ohana, malama'aina, and 'ike pono.

First is something that I hope you experienced to some degree when you came into this room this morning. It's called aloha and ho'okipa. Aloha is almost a universal word in Hawaiian and can be interpreted to mean "Hello," "How are You?" "Goodbye," "I Love You." Combined with ho'okipa, which means hospitality, aloha describes the incredible welcome that one feels when entering the Hawaiian culture. It's true that Hawaii is built on an economy of vacation and tourism. Friendly and courteous service is an expectation for anyone in a service-oriented economy. But at Punahou, it was more than just being friendly and courteous—it was about really connecting. It was about the people who were associated with this island school giving me a piece of their heart. It was making me feel as if I was the only person in the room, that what I had to say was valued, and that they were genuinely glad I had made the trip. Pride in their facilities, their program and the children who attend their schools was real and, more importantly, contagious. I came away with a good case of their enthusiasm.

The organizational significance of aloha and ho'okipa was not lost on me. Punahou knows that size is made less imposing, less threatening, and less bureaucratic when people feel connected. They are really good at it.

'Ohana is another strength of Punahou. 'Ohana means building community. Like Lab, their school is divided into divisions, with each division sharing some common facilities. But unlike Lab, they have designed or created spaces in which an entire grade or division can gather for purposes other than eating. Indeed, an important part of every week is taking time to discuss age-appropriate matters with each other. Faculty, staff, and students take part in assemblies that most closely resemble New England town meetings. I have learned that divisional, grade, and small group meetings are utilized to a much greater degree in many independent schools. It seems to me that any school that believes that each child is important will find ways to break down its size into meaningful subsets.

Another form of community building is what school organizations do to improve the adult conditions for individual and group growth. Punahou's President states that "well prepared, creative, and concerned people have the capacity to improve the world." We all perform best when trust, respect, and fun are part of the very fabric of a school. Trust and respect take time to earn, but fun can be both spontaneous and planned. We have very serious jobs at a place that takes its business most seriously. Fun needs to be part of our annual agenda. Our attire today, a luau in the courtyard, and finding humor in what we do is one way of recognizing that. I may not be education's answer to Patch Adams, but at least I can contribute to a welcome beginning here.

A third observation about Punahou concerns their emphasis on environmental awareness. In Hawaiian, it's known as malama'aina. Environmental stewardship takes on special meaning in Hawaii. Ignorance, apathy, and abuse shouldn't be tolerated anywhere but especially on an island. Recycling, conserving water, energy, and improving air quality are placed at the forefront of every decision affecting the future.

No better example of this is Punahou's recently completed sixty-one million dollar middle school. The design of these nine connected buildings complements the landscape and other buildings on campus, and most of their building materials had been recycled. Here is just a sampling of what their architects and engineers developed:

Natural light invades every occupied space, supplemented by self-adjusting overhead lighting.
Energy consumption is reduced by using chilled air from an underground icehouse.
All circulated air is sanitized by a laser process, with demonstrable improvement in the number of student and faculty illnesses during the first year of operation.
Lockers and bench seating are made from recycled milk cartons and the poured floors of most common areas came from recycled tires.
And, my personal favorite: Gravity controls the urinals in the boys room that are made sanitary by chemicals and a clever underground device called a "P" trap (No airline SWOOSH sounds at Punahou!)

I'm embarrassed to tell you that in over twenty years of being responsible for nearly one-half-billion dollars of school construction projects, environmental priorities were given very little consideration. Punahou changed that for me and environmental issues will be an important part of the conversations we will be having with the architects and engineers who will soon be working with us to develop a twenty-first century campus master plan for the Laboratory Schools.

Sometime in the next couple of weeks, we will be announcing a schedule when architects, engineers and facility planners from the firm of Skidmore, Owens and Merrill will meet with individuals and small groups to get a sense of our existing and future housing needs. We are at the beginning stage of what could become the most exciting capital improvement program in the history of the Laboratory Schools. Undoubtedly, it will also be the most expensive. We will be answering questions about how much more space is needed, where it will be located, what needs to be modernized, how to maximize learning while construction is taking place, and determining the financial capacity to make all of this happen. Whatever planned improvements are decided, we should elevate building sustainability as one of our top priorities. Malama'aina can work in Chicago too.

The fourth and last lesson observed at Punahou was how 'ike pono was infused into every aspect of their school. 'Ike pono is translated to mean the integration of the intellect with doing the right thing. As far as I know, it is not a part of their mission statement, there are not posters everywhere reminding people of its importance, there are no canned programs designed to improve the character of children. But like the Nike slogan, Punahou people just do it!

The adults who have been entrusted to work there model integrity, honor, respect, and service to others every day. It shows in how their buildings are maintained, it shows in their professional interactions, it shows in their curriculum, it shows in how they order their day, it shows in the ways they purposely break down their size in order for every child to feel as if he/she is important . . . and, it really shows on the smiling faces of the children.

I am certainly not the first, nor will I be the last, to say that leading a balanced life is more desirable than not leading one. I would also venture to say that most schools have something in their mission statement or marketing materials about the importance of balance and how they focus on the whole child. We do. We talk about excellence in academics, the arts, and athletics. We talk about achieving a sense of emotional and physical well-being. We talk about gaining a sense of personal and community responsibility.

But educational balance is more than words in a mission statement or marketing materials. It is much more than just talking about something. It is about every person in this room contributing to a culture in which actions are consistent with what we say we believe. 'Ike pono belongs in the Lab Schools too!

I like to end my remarks with a story because even if people don't listen to the body of a presentation, they generally remember some part of my stories. However, I've already shared my summer story of personal inspiration so allow me to conclude with a little keiki wisdom. Keiki are the children of Hawaii, and here is how a few five, six, and seven year olds defined aloha to their teacher.

"Aloha is when there is a room with a million strangers and then they say 'aloha' and then they are not strangers anymore."
"Aloha means I remember you even though I haven't met you before."
"Aloha means we're friends forever—especially if you're invisible."
"Aloha means you treat everybody nice even if you don't like the way they smell."
"Aloha should be a flavor of ice cream because it is that good."
"Aloha is my favorite word because when you say it, it makes everyone smile."

So as we begin this 2005-2006 school year together, may you live aloha, let it make you smile, and may it permeate your classrooms and our schools throughout the year.

Aloha and Mahalo!

David W. Magill
Director