THE WORLD ACCORDING TO GILLESPIE - GOODBYE TO GATES

A retrospective farewell to Scituate's Gates Intermediate School.

GOODBYE TO GATES

The time has come to say goodbye to Scituate’s Gates Intermediate School.  As they say, all good things must come to an end.  In this case, that process has taken 100 years.  It’s kind of depressing to think that I have been alive for half of them.  On the other hand, it gives me solace to think that Scituate historian and daily volunteer at Gates, Bob Corbin, has been around for almost all of them. 

I first walked into Gates during the late summer of 2002, having been granted an interview by former history department head, Norm Shacochis.  At the time I had reservations about returning to teaching, having independently financed and paid off degrees from Northeastern and Boston College only to find jobs in schools with teachers who referred to their careers as prison sentences. 

When I showed up for my interview at Gates, I was met by excited groups of happy children attending the annual Ice Cream Social.  The school was hot and humid – really hot and humid, bringing to mind images of Independence Hall in Philadelphia during the summer of 1787 when our wool wearing Founding Fathers torturously drafted the U.S. Constitution.  Gates was old, but had lots of character, including the principal at the time.  At first glance, I thought Principal Mark Mason might have just returned from a Jimmy Buffett concert dressed informally in shorts, sandals, and a shirt reminiscent of something worn by Fast Times at Ridgemont High character Jeff Spicoli.  He was, instead, the one who would interview me and then offer me a position in the school that would become my second home for the better part of the past two decades. 

Like an old farmhouse, I always thought that there was something about the Gates building itself that put people at ease.  Gates was informal and welcoming; busy but a successful machine in progress.  In the most authentic way, Gates was never form over function.  The mission of the teachers was always at the school’s forefront, to provide the best possible experience for Scituate’s kids while using a workspace that was utilitarian in nature, always finding ways to use what the building offered in the most resourceful manner possible.  Coincidentally, if the school is truly haunted by Lester J. Gates as local legend has it, he has proven to be one heck of a teacher.  I was once reading with the kids on a bitter cold school morning about the harsh winter conditions faced by American pioneers when my heat mysteriously decided to quit and the space at the top of one of my windows allowed snow to blow into the classroom.  These timely occurrences cannot be explained. 

Gates Intermediate was an incredibly special place with a strong sense of community among teachers, custodians, cafeteria workers, and administrators.  All personnel showed up equally caring and responsible, ready to bring the best possible experience to the students.  The unpredictability of the building was sometimes the glue that helped to unify the staff.  The heat never worked properly and air conditioning was simply out of the question.  The windows never functioned right, and when they did they would often slam down like a guillotine.  Heaters in the A-wing were known to emit flames.  On at least one occasion, an incredibly heavy slate blackboard literally fell from the wall barely missing students as it crashed to the floor.  There was rumored to be widespread mold and speculation of harmful asbestos.  The roof leaked in multiple places.  But we loved our old building despite all of its incredible misgivings, and in its own special way, it loved us back. 

I became a card carrying proponent of the construction of the new school during the fall of 2014 when I was called upon by Superintendent John McCarthy and Gates Principal Sarah Shannon to say a few words during a town meeting in support of the building proposal.  I shared that we had already established a history of doing great things at Gates even with a building that had extreme limitations. With a new school custom-designed for its teachers our potential would be limitless.   

I once told former Principal Dick Blake early one morning as we both arrived that looking up at the front of Gates sometimes made me feel like we were working in the last functioning little red school house in America and for that, we were extremely lucky.  Dick stared up at the front of the building reflecting in the cool morning air before he responded, “I know.  Sometimes I think the same thing.” 

Although there is much to look forward to with the opening of the state of the art replacement down the street, Gates will be missed. 

Sometimes the building is as much of an active participant as the everyday people who pass in and out of it.