Adorable columnist James Lileks is choosing schools for his adorable toddler. Lileks is a history-and-architecture buff, so his standards for choosing a preschool are rather unique:
Visited two pre-schools today, looking for New Educational Frontiers for Gnat. The first one made me slightly weak in the knees when I entered: a 1922 office building rehabbed for tots. Most of it had been gutted and done over, but the lobby had been restored to its original glory...
The building’s maintenance man drifted by, and my guide introduced us. I was looking at the rehab of the ground floor, trying to see where the original hallway had been...I pointed to a light-colored rectangle on the stone wall – tenant directory? “Nope – the mail box,” he said. Then he said the magic words. “I got it upstairs. Want to see it?”
An original 1922 office building mailbox? Be still my thumping heart. So upstairs to his lair. There it was, glorious brass and copper, a big Cutler Mail Chute in perfect condition. It had the Heft and Majesty and Authority of the United States Government. You didn’t tamper with this thing. You would be loathe to say a bad word about Coolidge in its presence.
Went back to the room where wife and child were enjoying a sample of the school’s program. “She has to go here,” I whispered. "It’s a history-drenched 1920s office building with some original fixtures!”
Hee hee hee. I remember when I first transferred to Lexington Elementary School (SC), in the 3rd grade. My mother, most definitely not an old-building nut, cried the first time she saw the place. It was a teacher's college, circa 1880, that was being used in the 1970's as a school for 1st- through 4th-graders. I don't think they renovated it, or even did any maintenance, other than to lash wire fencing across the second-story balconies so we wouldn't all plummet to the concrete below (we could still spit on people, though).
The pillars out front were massive, changing classrooms involved a dash across many buildings, and the staircase banisters were huge slabs of ornately-carved wood, where you could see the wear from many hands (and probably butts) that slid across the ends of them every day. And the bathrooms were modern - for the 1910's, I think. No stalls, few sinks, just toilets attached to the walls. Creaky, no AC, probably no central heat, etc.
I loved the place. Eventually they tore it down. The campus was so humongous that the new, large, modern elementary school they built fit entirely into what had been the bi-level playground for the old school. Lexington had to have lost a few kids out on that massive playing field each year. If you were way on the outer edge of the playground grabbing at honeysuckle plants when the warning bell rang after recess, God help you. You'd never make it back to the classroom on time.
Posted by kswygert at February 27, 2004 11:58 AM