Let me begin with the warmest welcome to all who have come today to celebrate this milestone in NCCL’s continuing life. I am speaking from a written text for a couple of reasons - I have been known occasionally to have trouble completing an idea or even a sentence before introducing several new ones and also it might be nice to have a record of the more detailed stories of our past which I plan to relate. These are just an overview of my memories, I could not possibly list all our accomplishments and failures or events and people that have formed us, but they all have great meaning to me.
I still don’t quite know how the transition from co-founding The Discovery Room for Children in an old truss store on the upper west side of Harlem to founding NCCL occurred. At each step, I felt inadequate and said so, but the momentum continued. Three things definitely pushed me over the edge to action - I still had money left from my great aunt’s estate, my son Nathan’s fifth birthday (I could not contemplate him in a traditional Kindergarten) and a phone call to Betsey Granda who had co-founded MLK Preschool, now Newark Cooperative Preschool. I admired her and said to myself if she thought my idea was crazy I would drop it. But when I called her, she interrupted my explanation, saying, “If my kids can go there, I’ll work for nothing.” And that is just what the parent/teachers did for five years. I can still recall getting my first paycheck, which just barely covered tuition for my three kids (Yes, we paid tuition and taught with no salary-NCCL needed the money.)
From the beginning, things fell into place one at a time. My continuing belief is that a task worth doing does not have to be completely planned beforehand, but a few have to be obsessed and willing to take chances and, if it is right, help will come along when needed. This happened again and again. For example, Elisabeth Curtis, who later on taught English and ran our office for many years, came to me the second week and asked my plans for cleaning and, seeing my blank look, began the first cleaning committee, which consisted of her and Pat Rasmussen and the teachers. Regarding that office work, later on, as in 20 years later on, Bette Balder was teaching part time when Elisabeth decided to move away and Bette moved her expertise to our office and admissions where she has become indispensable.
The first task was to find a location. Betsey and I piled our kids in the car and drove around a lot as well as called people. Soon we noticed the Old Redman Home on West Park which has just been vacated by a fraternity that was banned from campus. The building inside had been trashed and the owner was more than happy to rent it to us cheaply if we did all the fixing up.( My memory is $100 a month.) We cleared the zoning and building code with the city and began the fix up - my 3 and 5 year old spent their whole summer there ranging around the three floors playing with other volunteer’s kids. Michael Edwards, an engineering student who had come to one of my presentations about starting a school at Jean Bohner’s house, came most days out of pity for me as I ripped up carpets stained and filled with ground up glass, spackled, and replaced old windows. His best friend Ray Magnani would come from work on his motorcycle to pick him up at the end of each day and I disliked Ray that summer. In the fall, however, Ray came to teach with his friend Michael, who stayed teaching for 10 years, and Ray never left. There was a string of people all summer coming in to sign up their kids and also to volunteer to teach. Marilynn Carver’s son John was in my preschool class and spent one day in public school where he was criticized for turning his moon drawing into his pet guinea pig, so he came and his mom began as our art teacher. Her teaching has expanded over the years like NCCL: first art, then reading/writing/science/ then such a fine math teacher that she runs workshops all over the country. By the fall we had 50 kids 5 through 11 and about ten teachers, most part time. The city came to inspect the day before school started and made a huge list of things that needed doing before opening. Jean Bohner called all the parents and we worked late into the night, but opened on schedule. This spirit against all odds helped us over many pitfalls and showed me that we were doing the right thing.
I would like to highlight a few more people who had a strong impact on our beginnings. Mary Brower answered an ad to teach at MLK Preschool, my previous position, and I hired her for NCCL. She drove up from Townsend each day with her two kids, Francene and Slugger, and taught full time for 10 years until lung cancer took her life. Her sense of humor and wonderful ability to help kids build academic confidence are legendary and she is still missed. Our annual Most Improved Student Award is named after her. Maxine Stonecipher was in her fifties and completing her teaching degree after her kids had grown. Her math professor was making fun of this upstart school which wouldn’t last the year, and she thought, “This sounds like the place for me.” I can still remember her walking up on the porch as I was painting and telling me this story and if she could come and teach. She continued as a part time volunteer teacher until she moved to San Diego after her husband died 8 years later. She instilled in children her love of plants, woodworking, math, science, and the absolute trust in her unconditional love. A favorite older kids’ math game she invented we still teach as Maxine’s Game. Joan Mehl , a friend of Pat’s, came the second year when her oldest son was five and stayed for 25 years, teaching math, science, and a love of the outdoors, as well as our first Women in History class. Her Native American classes will live on in many memories - camping with the hand-made teepee, calling each other by Indian names throughout the trip, taking along her two year old, Bernard, on long hikes and camping.
So here we were in our first year in an old building that needed constant repairs (Pat Rasmussen and I learned how to clean sump pumps and re-tar roofs, just a few of countless useless skills we became expert at out of necessity and foolishness. I could always call her anytime of day or night and know she would be dumb enough to come to my aid - she even flew in from Seattle to be here today!), and in which we could only use the first floor. Through the fall different people came and asked me for permission to use the other floors and we saw a good extra income and better use of the spaces. Before long, the Newark Friends were meeting on Sundays (see the long relationship we have had with them!), a rock group was practicing in the finished basement (where we also ate lunch and had older-kid parties), an artist had a studio in one of the upstairs rooms and Ray Magnani moved in to another. Some mornings teaching started with Ray barely awake and Sally Rickerman late having to catch her cows first that sometimes escaped in the night. After a traveling group spent the weekend on the third floor, a few neighbors evidently surprised us by noticing these extra activities and complained to the city, and this inspection day that followed is one of our stories we love to recall. The head of the building department, Angelo Vitalo, and his assistant came unannounced one school day to look around. He asked to see the upstairs rooms, Ray’s room was locked as was the studio, but the third floor still had sleeping bags there, so we couldn’t deny use above the first floor. Then he began walking around the school rooms. The back room which was part of the original farmhouse and not insulated was so cold that we had put up insulation covered with burlap all over the inside walls. I can remember having chorus class not for any set time but just until my fingers grew too cold to move. The assistant stopped in his tracks in the doorway and said, “Aw, Angie, wait till you see this!” I don’t think he had ever seen a more egregious fire code violation (which we had not done intentionally!). A helpful and honest student said, “Come on and I’ll show you one more room. We don’t go in it because there’s a hole in the floor.” He proceeded through the burlap room (we had names for all the rooms - the little kids room was painted an awful chartreuse and we continued to called the youngest kid’s area the Green Room even when we were in the new school and had long since stopped painting it green.) And showed them the high-up latch to undo and they opened the door to a gaping hole to the dirt floor basement of the old farm kitchen. We had hammered the door shut, but a lost kitten had to be rescued from the hole a while back, so we needed access in case other animals got stuck. Of course we trusted the kids not to go in or fall in, but this didn’t carry much weight with regulations. I don’t think they ever recovered from this inspection, but to the city’s credit, we were given a certain amount of time to clean up our act before the next inspection, which we did. The only remaining co-users were the Quakers.
Of course I haven’t even talked about how we taught - I can remember us looking out at the older kids sitting in the sandbox and discussing how we could interest them to come in and learn something from us. We met every day until 5 to talk about teaching and the kids, and I made them drink yeast health food drinks (I was an Adele Davis advocate also). That was the only year I have been able to make anyone do anything - we all were in such shock no one had the presence of mind to refuse. The first few years we knew more clearly how we didn’t want to teach rather than how we did, especially with the older kids. They were very supportive of us as we limped along developing a meaningful curriculum for each of the age groups - but I think we did a great job in ways we didn’t expect - here are a few recent quotes sent in by some of these oldest grads and a teacher:
SAM ACKERMAN: For God’s sake. Other people get solicitations from their colleges; I get one from my elementary school. ....Ann, congratulations on your retirement and on much good work. “Never doubt that a small group of committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.” - Margaret Mead
BRUCE BONNER: Developing sensitivity to diversity was a key component to my development. I remember developing a friendship with Mary Brower and Slugger - they really being the only African Americans I knew. Another lasting characteristic was the feeling that I matter and that the contributions I made contributed to whatever I was a part of......I am sometimes tongue tied to explain in contemporary terms what NCCL meant to me and how my life experiences contributed to who I am today....what is clear is the homogenization of the collective stories and how they influence who I am. Backpacking through Pine Grove Pennsylvania and selling hotdogs from the fort in the Greenroom...making hydrogen in chemistry class and reading quietly in the loft...rejoicing in mistakes and knowing that learning was their byproduct....Today we talk about introducing new skill sets and creative thinking to streamline processes and develop efficient business solutions...”getting outside the box”. Back then we simply questioned and looked for a better way.
JEANNE BRAUN VELONIS: Love of learning is probably the most obvious thing I gained from NCCL, especially in my case a love of literature. (Blame Michael Bend-I do.) It is probably impossible to escape the NCCL “field” without some sense of social conscience. Certainly I learned of the importance of political activism, at the very least the value of letting one’s opinions be known.
GRACE BROWN HERNANDEZ: I learned to accept all people as human beings and embrace their differences. Prejudice was not tolerated at NCCL! I learned how cruel making fun of others is and what an ugly way it is for people to get attention...NCCL was a time of freedom to explore the world and knowledge came along for the ride.
NORA VADALA, TEACHER: NCCL has meant a great deal to our family for twenty years now - ever since Alessandra and Teresa were enrolled here as students. When I walked through the doors for the first time, I knew NCCL was a special and unique place and I felt at home, as if I had found kindred spirits who thought about children in a way no other school seemed to.
CAROL DILLEY: You, through your tireless energy and faith, gave generations of us an environment in which to grow that is a treasure beyond words. I feel so privileged to have been there when it all began, to have been a part of that experiment that has endured all of these years. An idea so wild and fragile as NCCL could never have survived for long enough to take hold without your presence at the center. Considering where it began, always on the verge of collapse, sustained by nothing but some crazy idealism that revolved chaotically around your center, it is thrilling to think that it is strong enough to stand now without you, stable enough to finally let you move on. We selfishly kept you as long as we could. I will be at your party in spirit if not body in the hopes that I will be part of the event to celebrate you. I wish you all the best out there on your new path and I thank you for that brief but profound contact that changed my life forever.
There were a few things we just knew were right at a gut level and which will never change - being respectful, listening, loving guides, keeping classes small so we can interact in natural ways, talk and be involved with materials and each other, do lots of learning outside of the school building, and have fun. For many years, kids had the freedom to sign up for whatever classes they wanted outside of skills classes. We found that calling a class King Tut brought many more takers than Egyptian History. Michael Edward’s class titles were legendary. My kids in their 30's still recall their all time favorites as his Dirt Class (messy science in fields and creeks) and Fast Foods Class (rating the various choices). Trips were prominent from the beginning. Our first camping trip was to Assateague Island in April with the older half of the school. I can remember telling the kids to keep their coats on when they went down to the beach it was so chilly still. When I went down, they had their coats on, but were all in the water soaking wet. The Ackerman VW Bus was our school bus for years. Ken’s three sons were in the school and they lived on S. College and left the key on the porch. Whenever we needed to go anywhere (those were the days before permission slips, let alone seat belts), we walked over to Ackerman’s house to get the “bus”. I can remember going to the Native American Museum in NYC in it. Backpacking, hiking, and camping were regular fall and spring trips each year - we did 4-5 day trips on the Appalachian Trail or Shenandoah National Park each year. We took practice hikes around the neighborhood with rocks in their backpacks - Ray was instrumental in forming our outdoor experiences and this was one of his routines to prepare. I think I am most proud of how many of our grads are in some form of work for the environment or make outdoor experiences a serious part of their recreation.
Early this week I was standing by the window looking out with a Group Two student at the all-day rainstorm and she said, “I can’t wait to see what the Bilibong looks like tomorrow.” It reminded me that I must tell you this story that happened last year. The depth of meaning behind it probably could make a book.
We were in a school exterior fix-up stage. Jeffrey Piaticelli had built raised planters on the side and we were putting in bushes and flowers when I happened to look behind our two small sheds in the corner of our lot. On either side of the public path (which is usually flooded by rains) were several encampments that had been constructed with scraps from around school and also a few items like soccer nets that had been missing. Tucked among the bushes and trees - most on city property - were big pieces of material tied to twigs for cover, orange crates for seats, various cooking utensils, stick tripods with belts holding cooking pots. It was a full-blown hobo village. Half of the roof of our plastic shed lay across the river (or billibong) as a bridge.
We cleaned it all up - the kids helped and were understanding of our need to make the school look better. Then we got to thinking how much they obviously wanted this play, and it was outdoors and very imaginative, so we decided to turn the plastic shed into a nice playhouse back in that corner. We set it up with housekeeping furniture and equipment very neatly, with the roof back on, and the kids seemed very appreciative. I didn’t check on it for a couple of weeks and when I did, once again I had to bring all the teachers out for look and a laugh. The encampments were back, the roof was a bridge; sand, burlap bags were on the floor, bowls full of sticks and water were everywhere inside and it looked just like another encampment.
They didn’t want a nice, neat playhouse. They wanted to be swagmen, camping beside the bilibong, and probably ready to jump in rather than be put in “prison”, as in the Waltzing Matilda song.
So we teachers do know when to quit. We now just check to make sure the path is clear at the end of the day and it’s fairly picked up on the weekends. That this kind of play is still so important in our tech-crazy age is a valuable lesson.
The next 30 years have gone by amazingly quickly. I will just mention highlights that I consider major steps in our development. The decision after 4 years whether to buy the building we were in or move proved to be difficult and divisive. I wish we were using the consensus approach to decision making back then ( and I thank Rich Bieber-Schneider for moving us in that direction when he was chairperson), because a slim majority voted to move and, while I think it was the right decision, now we would have spent more time in coming to a meeting of minds. But the search for land and then designing and building the school was an amazing process that seemed to be impossible, but fell into place at each step. After several properties fell through, it just so happened that our chairperson Jim Krum was friends with Newark’s mayor and thus heard about a 4 acre site that the city wanted to buy but didn’t want all of it. We probably got the last acre in the middle of town that was available. Banks would not touch us for the mortgage so my great aunt’s money came in handy again and many parents bought bonds that we paid off and in about 10 more years the mortgage to me will be done. Let me pause here to say how touched I am by the outpouring of donations to the Ann Brown Scholarship Fund, and, since I will be making more in retirement than I ever was as a teacher, I am pledging my future mortgage payments to this fund also. So, back to our building. Since we could not afford an architect anyway, we teachers decided we could design our own space. Wrong! We did it but have been changing it ever since and why not one of us thought about storage, Janice will never understand! We thought we were so clever with L-shaped rooms and that is the only shape and letter we used. The only one left is Group one’s big room, but all the other ones used to be L’s! Go figure. And unfortunately we had to go with the cheapest bid and a plain rectangle. One builder had designed a beautiful atrium in the center and classrooms around but at almost double the cost. It would have been nice. The joy of being in our new space, however, was overwhelming and the construction nightmares quickly faded. I do remember driving around town one whole day with my kids in the hot car tracking down our concrete sub, who had poured half the sidewalk and then disappeared for 3 days - and school was supposed to start the next week. I convinced them to come back - I probably scared them, I was fairly hysterical.
Another big breakthrough was Jean Bohner skill, contacts, and hard work that finally landed us our first significant grant that allowed us to buy our first van (the big orange Dodge that was our signature for 15 years - a little embarrassing to our teens, but never went missing in a parking lot!) As head of our Building Campaign years later, she also was instrumental in getting the much larger grants for our expansion. That time around we were able to afford a wonderful architect, a former school parent, Bob Johnson, and a great builder, then a current parent, Randy Olney. Even with all their skill and countless volunteer hours by so many, an amazing number of glitches occurred. The city kept coming up with new requirements and when we were hit with an extra $40,000 for refitting the old building with a sprinkler system, from then on I must have said, “Don’t worry, Randy. It’s only money.” so many times that he presented me with a paper weight and pen holder with that statement engraved on it next to a brass sprinkler head. And our only relation with the sprinkler system has been when it malfunctions, which it has done 3 times and caused tens of thousands of dollars in damages, once in the first winter in our new science room. I hate sprinkler systems!
The way parents and teachers have worked together to keep us growing as a more secure institution financially and organizationally is another story. Early on Gordon Bonner talked us into creating a depreciation fund for our budget and this kept us afloat in lean years. One year our enrollment was down and we were going to fall short of our budget for another year. At one of the final meetings of the year, the teachers voted to give back their last month’s pay checks and the parents tried to talk them out of it. A parent who worked at DuPont said his coworkers would never believe this one! Jay Balder led us through a long painstaking period of writing down our financial and organizational policies. He spent countless hours writing them, then come to meeting after meeting to discuss and pick apart each item. His patience and fortitude were amazing and the results have stayed with us with few amendments ever since. Yes, and if you are wondering, we had precious little written down before that.
I have only brushed across the surface of these 30 years. I wish I could tell you about all the people and events that shaped us. And that is what I think is most vital about us as an institution, which most closely resembles a big family. Each child, parent, and teacher who has been a part of us has changed and enlarged and added to NCCL and each, I believe, has also been changed by us. What we have all created is larger than each of us and stronger because of each of us and we go and others come and enhance the family with their particular gifts and NCCL goes on and gets better all the time. We haven’t been perfect - mistakes have been made and imperfections continue, like in any family, but the bond remains and the effort to grow and be the best we possibly can keeps us going. I don’t feel like I am really leaving - I will be back for long visits and keep in communication, and, for awhile anyway, I’d like to remain president of the corporate board. NCCL is so strong and in such good hands that I have no worries about its future. I love you all and thank you for giving me 30 years of adventure and experiences beyond my wildest dreams.