The Shadow Faculty

A chapter from my book, "Capt'n Bob's Adventures in Child Psychology" ....

Playroom 81.

Once upon a time at the Harvard Graduate School of Education, a

committee was formed that became known as “The Shadow Faculty.”

It was composed of professors, graduate students and a variety of

others including myself. Born of “The Harvard Social Studies

Project,” its leader was Dr. Donald Oliver, contentious-curriculumcreator-

crank-and-argumentative-iconoclast; a great man. The name,

“Shadow Faculty,” was derived from a British governmental device,

an institution known as the “Shadow Cabinet.” The idea was that the

party out of power prepares a list of people to fill each cabinet

position so that when the government currently in power inevitably

loses a confidence vote, the new crew steps in and takes the reins of

government with not a moment’s loss.

The 1960s, Boston: The consensus was that the Boston schools

were moribund. Aggressive right wing attorney Louise Day Hicks,

staunchly opposed to desegregation, was chair of the Boston School

Committee. Teaching methods were famously antiquated. Discipline

was administered by swatting the offending student on the hands

with a bamboo stick, a“rattan,” often drawing blood. Protests

flourished. Racial conflict peaked. Parents took to the streets. Busing

of black children to more humane suburban schools began.

By 1973, Judge W. Arthur Garitty would rule that Boston had

violated the law by the de facto segregation of its students.

Members of the Shadow Faculty�"I for one�"believed that the

Revolution was at hand and that the Boston Schools were moribund

It was therefore incumbent upon us to design a new and better,

post revolutionary school system.

I had been a school psychologist employed by the Newton Public

Schools for five years before becoming a research associate at the

Harvard Graduate School of Education. In the latter capacity my task

was to design a mental health program for the Boston Schools

encompassing guidance and counseling and, among other things,

addressing such problems as low motivation, absenteeism, emotional

distress, lack of direction, low self-esteem, delinquency and violence.

The task of the Shadow Faculty was to conduct an “action

research,” study and resulting design not limited to the library and

laboratory but centered rather smack in the thick of the community, in

schools, homes, churches and businesses.

That suited me fine.

The ad hoc counseling theory that guided me and my colleague,

Jay Clark, graduate student at the School of Ed, was that making the

deviant student into a recipient of services, a patient or criminal was

counterproductive. A better goal, we thought, would instead be the

inclusion of all parties, student, faculty and administration, into

responsible community membership. Assuming the best, we

predicted, would result in the best. We were further convinced that a

positive outcome must be manifest from the very first moment of

intervention.

Practically, that meant that the marginal child would from the start

be given responsibility for the betterment of others, responsibility that

we predicted would bring the gratitude of the community�"rather than

anger or banishment�"to the offender.

So one bright clear morning in early fall, Jay and I hopped on our

bicycles and rode through the Mission Hill Housing in Boston. Jay I

were colleagues. We designed the program that we hoped would

someday be instituted.

“Hey, look!” a little boy yelled. “Men on bicycles!” (That was long

ago, a time when only children rode bicycles.) “Hi, kids,” we shouted

back. “How- ya doing?”

“Where can we find Mrs. Searcy?” we asked.

Before we arrived, we had interviewed the manager of Mission Hill

plus a local priest. Both told us that in their opinion Mrs. Searcy was

the key community leader.

We knocked on Mrs. Searcy’s door. She was a gracious woman

surrounded by a pile of children of varying ages. She welcomed us.

We explained our purposes. She was receptive but explored our plans

with good questions. “You plan to have juvenile delinquents run a day

care center for our children?” she asked in a steady, skeptical voice.

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

We forged ahead with our plans anyway. The project manager

donated a building basement to us; we convinced community

volunteers to clean it out and fix it up; then we asked local clergy,

community center directors and teachers to refer questionable

teenagers.

We interviewed the teenagers and described the jobs that we had

in mind for them. It was only a matter, we explained, of keeping little

kids busy for an hour or so after school.

The teenagers liked the idea.

Then we spoke with the mothers that Mrs. Searcy had suggested to

us.

The Searcys lived on the north side of Parker Street. They and their

friends were black. White families lived on the south side of the same

street. There was little overlap between people on one side and the

other. But we talked with mothers�"and occasional fathers�"on both

sides, usually together

People generally were quite receptive both sides. Everyone

seemed to think that an after school day care center was a good idea.

But about a week later, they met the scruffy teenage staff that we

had lined up. There was immediate resistance. People were generally

polite but the message was clear, “You Harvard guys have no idea

what you are doing. There is no way that I am going to let those

teenagers get at my kid.”

The mothers simply took over. Jay and I were effectively removed

from our leadership positions. Mrs. Searcy was now in charge.

Fortunately, she was an open-minded woman who thought that

potentially we had a contribution to make. From then on the mothers

ran the program with help from the fathers. Jay and I were kept on as

consultants to the parents�" and counselors to the teenagers.

The mothers named the program “Playroom 81” because the

basement in which it was located was at 81 Parker Street.

It ran for the three years that we were there and for some time

afterward. Eventually, Jay and I left for other things. By then, the

teenagers had endeared themselves to the mothers and continued to

work with the children while under the their direction.

And black and white families got along well together.

Things continued that way for some years. I am not sure how many

exactly.

This was a transformative period for me and, I daresay, for

everyone whose lives were touched by Playroom 81.

Years later I met the now young adult granddaughter of one of the

mothers. I knew her as a baby.

“How are things in Mission Hill these days?” I asked.

“It’s a rough place to grow up in,” she said. “Kids don’t have

anything like Playroom 81 any more.”

Author's Note

Do with this what you will.

Reviews

[RomaJ]

A wonderfully moving and inspirational story. Playroom 81 brought together a community.
I like their dedication to the youths and that they fulfilled their goal. "positive outcome must be manifest from the very first moment of intervention."
Even though they were met with Initial skepticism. Which I admit, I would have agreed with Mrs. Searcy, but like her, I have an open mind.
It not only brought a positive outcome but impacted the community and the youths. By not treating the youths like patients or criminals but giving them responsibilities, sort of like mentoring. I thoroughly enjoyed your story.