STEAMPUNK AHAB'S PARTING SHOT

The revolutionist manifesto

One day during my "Upper" year at Exeter, I somehow managed to arrive early for a class in the Academy building. Amazingly and unexpectedly, I had a moment's respite amidst the otherwise unending busyness. As I sat down, I wondered about the pile of old books in the middle of the Harkness table. They looked like they could have been there since the table was installed in the 1930's. I picked up one well-thumbed volume to check it out. It was Walden. I had never heard of it or Thoreau before. I opened it at random to discover this passage:

If one listens to the faintest but constant suggestions of his genius, which are certainly true, he sees not to what extremes, or even insanity, it may lead him; and yet that way, as he grows more resolute and faithful, his road lies. The faintest assured objection which one healthy man feels will at length prevail over the arguments and customs of mankind. No man ever followed his genius till it misled him.... 

This was the beginning of a lifelong romance with Thoreau. It is also, perhaps, the ultimate starting point for my 25+ year mission to restore the Academy's integrity.

 *** 

In 2016, as the campus sexual assault scandal gathered momentum, some fellow Exeter alumni noted my dogged persistence in my quest. I had been at this, off-and-on, since my actions as a whistleblower in 1993-1994. "Ahab would have given up long ago," I joked.

Steampunk Ahab by Josh Guglielmo

But soon, quite unexpectedly, I experienced two extraordinary vindications. Sadly, these weren't recognized by the school. In a fair world, I might have been awarded the institution's Founders Day Award for extraordinary service. Instead, no one had the decency to even tell me what had happened. I had to put the pieces of the puzzle together for myself. To what end?

Though officially ignored, perhaps I could put this distinction to good use. As I explained to trustee Claudine Gay in my attempt to assist her "interim principal advisory committee," I "have a demonstrable track record for being significantly ahead of the curve when it comes to Academy governance." How's that? It came as the result of my pair of parting shots in 1994. As mentioned before, the penultimate one was a call for a code of conduct for faculty and administrators. That was finally instituted in August, 2016.

The final and ultimate vindication didn't start out that way. It was my last attempt to alert the Academy community to problems, an effort that went nowhere at the time. The vindication came twenty-three years later, in 2017, when I discovered that a letter I'd submitted to The Bulletin, PEA's quarterly magazine, had "...anticipated the findings of the Choate/Hall report detailing structural problems in the Admin/Trustee reporting relationships..."

The letter wasn't even published. But how it was received and rejected reveals realities that have yet to be acknowledged, much less addressed.

After the parting shot - what's left?  

Back in 1994, former colleagues told me about the tense opening moments in the faculty meeting following the arrival of my call for a code of conduct. I'd dropped a letter containing this along with documents from the Principal and President of the trustees. I sent these to all the faculty, trustees and administrators. Well over 100 went out. They arrived the day before the regular faculty meeting. Principal O'Donnell started the session with some joke to dissipate the tension. Then, it was immediately back to business-as-usual. There was no discussion about the culture of concealment and the failure to create policy for faculty misconduct. My call to address a fundamental, structural issue - one already identified in a trustee study - seemed to have disappeared down the Memory Hole.

But not entirely.

It raised questions about the O'Donnell Administration's integrity. Could they be trusted to deal with the issue of faculty misconduct? I heard that, after, some bypassed the administration and brought such issues to the trustees directly. I have no way of confirming this. If the trustees received such requests, maybe they had a conversation about it at one of their meetings. They might have wondered why the normal channels weren't sufficient? If this happened, there might be records of it in the archives. When the 75-year gag on Trustee meeting minutes is up in 50 years, be sure to let me know.

Better to have focused on the present
Used courtesy PEA

Regardless, at this point it looked like I was done. Then, the Fall 1994 Bulletin came out a few months after. I was intrigued by the cover story, "Facing the Future Together: A Team Approach Brings Exeter's Trustees Closer to the School and to Each Other" (used here courtesy PEA). Written by former Bennett Fellow Katherine K. Towler, I expected it to be an annoying puff-piece. So I read it first with low expectations. Soon, I found myself going through it with pen-in-hand. It actually contained a detailed snapshot of the information flow between the trustees and administration.

Trustees gather on campus three times a year while school's in session. My students taught me a new term to describe their perceptions of these visits. The Academy, they said, became a "Potemkin Village." I asked them to please explain - I was unfamiliar with this. They did so with great joy - instructing an instructor!

It refers to Grigori Potemkin, Catherine the Great's minister and lover. After Russia annexed the Crimea, he was put in charge of pulling the place together for Russian settlers. The Empress trekked out to check his progress. As the story goes, he pulled together a faux village with a traveling troupe of happy people. They'd set up shop for her inspection. Then, as her entourage rested for the night, the village would leapfrog them. The next day, traveling down the road, she found - another happy village! By this contrivance, the Empress got a mistaken impression of her minister's accomplishments.

I only recall one encounter with a trustee while I served on the faculty. Towards the end of my tenure, I briefly engaged one passing near my classroom. I tried to communicate how difficult it was for them to get a good sense of the place - how challenging for any faculty to give them the actual low-down. She brushed me off with some pleasantries. Apparently, this was too much reality to deal with. Besides, the next merriment in our Potemkin Village was about to get underway! So she was off...

Now, about that article...

From "Facing the Future Together"
Courtesy of Phillips Exeter

Facing the Future Together had some of the usual fluff. But if you read through it attentively (this digital copy used by permission of the Academy), it revealed the actual inner workings of our Potemkin Village. It explained how the trustee's oversight could be so blind.

Suddenly, it provided me the occasion to take another parting shot!

In those pre-Social Media days, the only way to reach out to fellow classmates and alums was the Bulletin. This seemed like an ideal opportunity to communicate the problems I'd experienced. The wider Exeter community needed to know about what seemed to be a structural problem with governance. So I wrote an extended letter responding to the piece. Perhaps I was being entirely too honest. This was sure to burst a few bubbles. There was no acrimony in it, but the reality I was exposing would be hard to accept. But I had to try to get the word out. Here's the heart of it:

As currently constituted, The Administration controls the flow of information at the Academy....the principal "functions as a liaison between the trustees and the faculty and administration." Her reports serve as a keynote to trustee meetings. Her overview frames their "topics for debate"...she plays the role of "'interpreter' (in) helping the Trustees understand." This is appropriate as long as there are outside checks and balances to the Principal's interpretation.

Now, compare this with the findings in the Choate/Hall report (see page 3-5 here) on the problems that allowed the mismanagement in 2011 and 2015:

...PEA did not have sufficiently robust governance processes in place to ensure that sexual misconduct, like the Schubart matter, would always be addressed appropriately. For example, there was no procedure to ensure that allegations relating to sexual misconduct that came to the attention of PEA’s administration would be conveyed to the Trustees in a timely, complete and transparent manner.

Taken together with my call for a code of conduct, these parting shots addressed the core causes of the malaise. How could these go unchallenged for decades? I don't claim any great prescience in terms of my organizational analysis. The issues were as obvious then as they are now in retrospect. Anyone reading that Bulletin piece critically could have seen it.

So, the structural problems driving the mismanagement under Principal Tom Hassan's leadership should have been obvious long before. He was part of the O'Donnell Administration. Was he aware of these structural issues when he headed College Counseling some two decades earlier?

This raises other questions. Why didn't anyone do anything about these issues?  How is it that a generation of Exeter students and faculty had to operate under these conditions?  What was the price they had to pay? What scars remain? What should our response be now to past leadership's mismanagement?

Next, we'll have a look at what happened when I tried, unsuccessfully, to get that letter published.

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THE PHENOMENOLOGY OF EXONIENSIS NARCISSISSIMA

Tarnished image

In the Pantheon of Prep School Perps, the adult Exeter crew, it would seem, are a pathetic lot. They may be mere shadows of the luminaries elsewhere, ambulatory malignancies who systematically abused children, some for decades.

At PEA, those who violated the sacred trust parents put in them to care for their children are/were forlorn figures. Sadly, bumbling lechers, dirty old men and drunks who can't keep their hands to themselves are commonplace. This does not forgive their transgressions. Nor does it make what they did any less harmful to those they afflicted. But it does make it all the more mysterious as to why the school had had such a hard time giving them up for so very long.

In the wake of the Drama Department child pornography scandal in 1992, it seems clear that school officials knew or should have known most all of the issues about faculty misconduct revealed when things finally boiled over again in 2016. Why didn't they clean house way back when? So far, I'm only talking about the faculty perps. Those, for the most part, belong to an earlier era when coeducation was new. Of course, this all merely points to the current issue - peer assaults and their mismanagement.

Why is it so hard for the Academy to acknowledge such issues, address them, then move forward? I've got a working hypothesis. Call it a possible syndrome: Exoniensis Narcississima. This may seem to be just some unfortunate idiosyncrasy in a privileged, prestigious subculture. But like Mr. Tremallo's doughnut, tug at this thread to discover what may be the quintessential American Story of our time.

Observations & Anecdotal Experiences

A shadow over John Phillips

When I wandered wounded out from PEA in 1993, I told some faculty at Harvard of my experiences. One, a consultant to private secondary schools, offered a provocative observation. In his experience, the more highfalutin the school's mission statement, the more intractable the problems. Another, a Psychology of Religion professor, offered a Jungian reading. "The brighter the light, the darker the shadows," he said.

Here's what Exoniensis Narcississima feels like.

Exeter is legendary for its unhappiness. In fact, it prides itself on it. Celebrated schoolmaster Ernie Gillespie's famous graduation benediction included the line "I don't think anybody has ever claimed that Exeter is a warm nest." His observation has been warmly embraced since he said it in 1967. This points to how Exonians delight in their misery. I suspect it's why I found such pleasure in discovering Dostoyevsky there. "Suffering is the origin of consciousness," his Underground Man tells us. And we prided ourselves on maximizing our consciousness.

Later, returning, a prep school residential life training the summer after my first year on the faculty was a revelation. The facilitator started out saying how it was key to categorize your school. They fit into two basic categories: happy or unhappy. I wondered about PEA - where do you put those happy to be miserable?

Such paradoxical feelings are a key feature of Exoniensis Narcississima. This feeds a cognitive dissonance that undermines reality-checking.

In my day-to-day life on the faculty, I noticed an added aspect to this. It's an old truism that academics love their classrooms but hate the politics outside them. Exoniensis Narcississima adds a layering of prestige to this. For me, the general negativity about the place evaporated off-campus in certain situations. When I'd find a rare moment to socialize in Cambridge, I experienced an unusual emotional pivot. When asked what I did for work, I'd pridefully unfurl my title, "Assistant School Minister/Instructor in Religion at Phillips Exeter." It was impressive and people were impressed. Feelings of malaise momentarily vanished as I basked in the glory of the place.

Smothered by the weight of History

Back on campus, this grand and glorious past caused a different affect. The school's celebrated history going back to its founding in 1781, before the last gunsmoke of the Revolution had cleared, was stifling. For current inhabitants, it seemed impossible to measure up. When I arrived at Harvard Divinity School the year before, Rev. Peter Gomes met with new students to lovingly assure us that the admissions office had not made a mistake in admitting us. We belonged there. But at Exeter, whatever insecurities the students felt along these lines, what the faculty faced was far more intense. So add Impostor Syndrome as another element of Exoniensis Narcississima.

This aspect fueled a particularly toxic dynamic. The fear of being found inferior to past brilliance created a cover-up culture. Instead of facing the usual piddly problems that go along with an organization of this size - the ills of alcoholism, depression and the like - a cover-up-culture drives these underground to fester. If you need to keep up a perfect appearance, how do you deal with imperfections? More than likely, you focus furiously on image.

What happens if someone should detect an imperfection?

Easy fixes for identified problems

Example:

When I got hired, I was personally recruited by Principal O'Donnell and her husband to be a faculty advisor to WPEA, the campus radio station. The O'Donnell's were key in the station's renovation in sumptuous new quarters in the old library. I was a good "fit" as advisor because I had been on the station's board as a student, and worked professionally in radio after.

One of the many upgrades included a new transmitter. When the broadcast engineers turned on the new unit one Saturday, I tuned in on my car radio and drove around to check the reach of the signal. I did this on my own initiative, knowing the potential issues with such gear given my work at commercial stations. So I took what precious free time I had that afternoon to drive all over Rockingham County, jotting down locations and signal strength.

As it turns out, there was a problem. Transmitters are tuned to their assigned frequency, and this one needed a slight tweak. It was bleeding over into the NPR affiliate repeater in Durham. So I dutifully alerted the consultants, passed along my observations, then headed home. Better this than than to wait for NHPR listeners to file complaints.

A few days later, I happened to run into CPOD (the nickname the lower echelon admins had for C. Patrick O'Donnell, the Principal's husband) walking across campus. I smiled, thinking he would be pleased by my devotion and diligence to a project turning out well. Instead, he snarled, "I hear you've been complaining..."

I was flabbergasted. 

What does it mean when pointing out imperfection is taken as a personal attack? Imagine how this might affect the ability to address day-to-day issues. Imagine how this might affect reporting adults demonstrating "boundary issues." Imagine how this might affect reporting mismanagement of peer assaults.

After I left the faculty, I raised questions along these lines in a letter to the faculty calling for a code of discipline:

Other important questions to discuss: What is the proper course of action if you become aware of misconduct? Do you feel motivated to report such improprieties? Or, do you find yourself -as I once did - holding secrets about unprofessional, inappropriate or even endangering behavior? Does the administration's response to my case inspire the confidence to come forward should you find yourself in a similar predicament? Do you find that it encourages you to speak up or to be silent? Are their actions here indicative of a desire to be open and forthright? Or, rather, does it demonstrate a propensity for denial and avoidance? Is the situation detailed here the rule or the exception? Consider the widespread rumors that circulate about faculty and administrative misconduct. Aren't they typical of institutions unwilling or unable to deal directly?

That was in 1994. The school finally adopted a code of conduct...in 2016. Has the entrenched denial dynamic been rooted out? Is Exoniensis Narcississima still virulent? I leave it to others to determine. 

There's other aspects to Exoniensis Narcississima I'll discuss next time. Also, we'll look at how understanding this syndrome illuminates aspects of the culture on the local, national and international level.

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Tips? Suggestions? Comments?  Drop a line to: contact (at) ExeterUnafraid (dot) com

Twitter @EUnafraid.

GAUDEAMUS IGITUR: THE GREAT TREMALLO

Harkness as performance art

When I returned to serve on the faculty, I knew I had the best job on campus. The combination of ministry and teaching gave me the opportunity to experience the full breadth of the Exeter Experience. To up my game in the classroom, I thought I'd check out some of the legendary teachers I'd missed as a student. Top of the list? Fred Tremallo.

I cherished the days I had time to sit in on his class. He was masterful in his command of the Harkness classroom, transforming it into performance art.

What made him so good? For one thing, he knew how to use silence.

I wandered in one day to discover his room invaded by other visitors. It was parent's weekend. So the Harkness table was circled by an audience. The students were working their way through some novel - I don't remember what it was. That is the secret of the Harkness experience that some miss. The finest moments come when the text is simply the pretext for enabling the classroom dynamics. That becomes the focus as the students discover their own talents.

But this day, inexplicably, Fred got started off on the wrong foot. What a bad day for him to stumble! He threw this random question to get things going:

"What about the doughnut?"

It proved to be a non-starter, too obscure. No one had a clue. 

For me, working the Harkness classroom is like sailing. You needed to build up momentum in the conversation going downwind. You get the kids talking about something, anything. Then, then tack upwind from that to move through the text. Here, we were stalled, pointing into the wind. 

He persisted. "What about he doughnut?"

Some attempted to interpret this as metaphor. Wrong.  "What about the doughnut?" he repeated.

We sat in awkward silence - the class and spectators. Fred seemed utterly at ease, calm and relaxed.

Next, attempts at deflection. These comments aimed to offer Fred an easy out - a new, more productive area to get a conversation going. They were inviting. As the students offered their intriguing take on the reading, Fred listened attentively. But as they finished, he asked again  mystified - how could they forget? "What about the doughnut?"

The missing treat

My skin crawled watching on the sidelines. Fred seemed off on the one class where he needed to be on - with parents expecting to be impressed.  They had the bad luck to catch him on an off-day. I'd never seen him miss. This wasn't just disappointing - it seemed odd as the minutes passed. The only thing coming clear in the confusion - he wasn't going to budge. 

"What about the doughnut?"

An unsettling silence began to settle in. Focus turned from trying to spark a conversation to leafing through the pages of the reading. Fred just sat peacefully, confident that eventually someone would satisfy his peculiar demand. 

It took some time, going line-by-line through the 40-odd pages assigned, but finally someone found it. Some character, as an aside, offered that something was "like a doughnut." That was it. Nothing more. Nothing more at all - a throwaway line that an editor might have excised from the text.

What followed proved Fred was one of the best to ever conduct class at PEA.

Now that we had a discussion underway, it turned to tugging at this loose thread. What about the doughnut? It wasn't random at all. How did it connect to larger themes? With Fred's occasional guidance, the students unraveled the entire fabric of the book from that single strand. The seemingly unimportant detail was, in fact, what stitched the structure of this literary work together. By the end of the class, everyone had a gut-level understanding of what sets literature apart. No detail is unimportant. Read with attention and miracles happen.

Fred's style perfectly embodied his signature catchphrase: Faith. Focus. Flow. The best part was his effortless and unassuming manner. His mastery was unalloyed with any arrogance.

Outside the classroom, Fred was an enormously engaging conversationalist. We enjoyed wide-ranging discussions. He also told me wild, improbable tales about his life. I remember in particular his love-at-first sight experience meeting Ellie, the love of his life. She was a fixture on campus, too, back to my student days. In a harsh place, she was the kind spirit working in the Academy's bookstore.

He told me that, in his younger days, he was doing spy stuff in Berlin. He wandered around the city with an attaché that contained a loaded .45 automatic. One weekend, he went out on a date to a house party. That's where he encountered Ellie. The recognition that they were life partners was immediate and mutual. As his date wandered out of earshot for a moment, their discussion turned to how Fred should kindly, lovingly extricate himself from her. No easy way to dump a date, but perhaps they could make it easier. It didn't have to be cruel. Fred and Ellie were kind like that.

I forget the details about how they came to the Academy. It was an earlier era where a talented person could walk onto campus and, with enough panache, land a gig. However they arrived, I don't see Fred taking a conventional route. Nowadays, the school's reputation demands a level of professionalism that requires serious credentials - a PhD and proven talent. Sadly, that means eccentric, unusual characters that have made for some of the most legendary teachers get weeded out. They resist the assimilation necessary to get "properly" credentialed.

However Fred found his way to the Harkness table, it was destiny. What was hard to bear was the jealousy this inspired in some of our colleagues. His class transformed kids. They talked about the magic. This was all-too-much for some. A few mockingly referred to him as "The Great Tremallo." 

Moonlit Spirituality  

Roque Bluffs: Rough & Ready

After the first term, I traveled up to Maine's Washington County to visit Fred and Ellie at their home in Roque Bluffs. This remote spot is nearly 300 miles from Exeter, a five-hour drive. It offered the classic beauty of coastal Maine, but far enough away to be affordable on an Academy salary. Someone on the faculty discovered it, then several others bought properties there for retirement.

I arrived in the midst of heavy December snowfall. Weathered in, we kept warm around the woodstove telling tales. Fred shared the local lore. At one point, the subject turned to things spiritual. I'd brought my meditation cushions to maintain my Vipassana practice. Oddly, Fred seemed disinterested.

As the winter storm passed, the skies cleared the next night. This revealed a spectacular full Moon illuminating a chest-high pristine snowfall. Looking out into the night, Fred turned to me, "Are you ready to experience my spirituality?" We put on our winter gear and headed out towards their backyard, a vast field that reached down toward the shore.

We swept through the fresh powder heading towards the shoreline. The crisp and clear air, the Moon-bright landscape, our effortless motion through the seemingly solid snow - how can I combine or pick apart these elements to capture the ineffable sense of joy we shared drifting through the cloud-like layer? Then, awe entered suddenly as the stark white landscape gave way to the pitch black ocean. We stood silently, absorbing the wonder.

Fred never got to share his retirement there with Ellie.

I remember returning to campus for Fred's memorial service. Many shared of how he lived and died doing what he loved. To the end, his devotion to his teaching and to his students was unmatched. Even confined to an oxygen tent gasping for breath as the cancer ate his lungs, he insisted on writing student's college recs. He'd promised this to them before he was suddenly taken ill. He fulfilled his pledge.

During the service, everyone received a slip of paper with Faith. Focus Flow. printed in italics. After, as Phillips Church emptied out, I overhead some of colleagues, linguists, chatter. 

"It sounds profound - in English. But put it in French or German - prattle." 

Even in death, it was too much for some to simply accept and appreciate the way Fred touched so many lives. Somehow, they felt slighted by his genius in the classroom.

Ernie Gillespie famously said "I don't think anybody has ever claimed that Exeter is a warm nest." But this left me cold.

***

Others, too, keep Fred's memory alive. When Dan Brown Came to Visit tells of how some unknown writer with a debut techno-thriller novel out stepped in for Fred at his untimely passing.  Ned Hallowell, the famed doctor who brought ADD and ADHD to the popular consciousness, lovingly remembers Fred in his memoir, Because I Come from a Crazy Family: The Making of a Psychiatrist.

. 

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Twitter @EUnafraid.

MISSION, MINDSET & MOXIE

Poster in my faculty apartment, 1991

Time to clearly define the why, who & what.

As I see it, the Academy's current leadership, particularly in regard to its response to sexual assaults on campus, has demonstrated time-and-again that the institution is out of integrity.

As a third-generation alumnus and former faculty member, my respect for and commitment to the Academy and the ideals it represents runs deep. I am unwillingly compelled to now serve as the loyal opposition. Some may seek to cast me as an enemy instead. That I categorically reject.

The open minded will appreciate what is revealed here. My hope is that, once exposed, the current leadership will surrender to reality and the consequences it brings. A new kind of leadership will finally come, bringing the possibility for fundamental, necessary change.

Exeter Unafraid's mission:

To help restore and invigorate Phillips Exeter Academy's integrity. With that, begin the process of renewing and reinventing the institution's Non Sibi ethos for the 21st century.

Yesterday, today & tomorrow

It has been a century since Lewis Perry, the legendary head of school, transformed the institution. In my grandfather's day, before his arrival, the Academy was just another New England boarding school. By my father's class in 1940, the Harkness revolution was in full swing. This was the visionary education for The Greatest Generation. By the 1970's, the advent of coeducation in the wake of the Civil Rights era carried John Phillip's call to serve "youth from every quarter" forward. Now, it has been realized in a widely diverse, multiethnic, multiracial, international, interfaith student body.

Meanwhile, over the last forty years, the egalitarian ethos of The Greatest Generation has evaporated

1980 - the turning point

along with the middle class. Today, the American Experiment in self-rule has devolved into what is essentially an oligarchy as income inequity runs rampant, tearing the very fabric of society apart. Meanwhile, non-sustainable practices that generated the wealth cannot persist. The entire civilization is at risk in the onslaught of climate change as we find ourselves in the midst of the sixth mass extinction on the planet. In that this is self-imposed, it seems that we are, at best, self-destructive if not suicidal.

What is the function of an elite institution like the Phillips Exeter Academy in such circumstances?

The kind of selflessness, Non Sibi, modeled by the current leadership for Exeter students seems a reflection of the times. Following the changes in economic policy, taxation, and the social contract, Trickledown Non Sibi is about pursuing self-enrichment first. Then, charitable pursuits become the ultimate status symbol of the extraordinarily prosperous. In some ways, this echoes the Academy's Calvinist roots. Wealth is seen as the mark of virtue and salvation.

As we consider such an understanding of values, of worth, consider:

Is it a measure of excellence to be highly successful in a self-destructive society?

More specifically:

Is the actual function of the institution to enable the emerging oligarchy? Are we training students to serve a machine manufacturing environmental collapse - and along with it, our own demise?

Seen from this perspective, the need for accomplishing this project's mission is evident.

The Historic Imperative

My mission here is forward-seeking. But there is also an essential historic value, too. From the preface to my report to Academy leadership in 2016, A Sexual Predator at Exeter: Context & Consequences:

...As turbulent and difficult the current circumstances are, I feel it is important to appreciate how this material is historically and culturally significant. It should be preserved - and even made public at the appropriate time. Whether-or-not the Academy has the strength to be fully open about what happened....the full record (if it remains) provides an invaluable window to social historians, cultural anthropologists and others interested in seeing the inner workings of a narcissistic organization. Exeter is a community that, writ small, mirrors the larger culture. Those wanting to understand the generation just past will find this of extraordinary value.

Since submitting my report to the Academy's leadership in the Summer of 2016, subsequent events suggest this to be of more than historic interest. Of course, narcissism has become part of the national discussion. Sadly, there appears to be continuity from the events in the 1990's detailed in my study to today. The systemic issues that seemed to define PEA then apparently persist.

The upshot is that I am mindful of the need to create an authenticated record of these experiences. In time, I hope this will be deemed worthy to be entered into the Academy archives. Those who will enjoy access that I am currently denied to records there (faculty & Trustee minutes, etc.) will hopefully be able to settle whatever disputed points of fact there may be. In addition, I will be mapping out for future researchers where they might look for key information.  I hope the entire record will remain extant for future examination should anyone take an interest long after our era is all but forgotten.

Ethics, objectivity & a few caveats

I would do poorly in my mission to restore and invigorate integrity without demonstrating my own. 

I cannot claim the requisite objectivity to serve as a traditional journalist here. Still, I am a member of the Society of Professional Journalists as well as Investigative Reporters & Editors. So, as a "citizen journalist," I adhere to the SPJ's Code of Ethics. The code has, in fact, been updated in the past few years to extend the definition of "journalist" to endeavors like this. Anyone who takes issue with anything here should consult the code and feel free to raise objections in its terms.

Note that, beyond the SPJ Code, I am scrupulous in protecting the privacy of minors. No student's identity either past or present will be explicitly exposed without expressed prior consent. 

All that & a bottle of pop

Also, this is an individual, volunteer effort on my part. I do not have the luxury of layers of editorial review and revision. I take great effort to thoroughly research my subjects, fact-check, and to present findings fairly. Still, inadvertent errors may creep in. For those, let me offer my apologies in advance. Please let me know so I can address them promptly!

Oh, I should also mention - the Gaudeamus Igitur reflections operate in a somewhat different spirit. I trust all will find those more entertaining than challenging, but intriguing in their own right.

Finally, as far as my objectivity, there's an observation (I think it is by E.B. White. If you know who said it, please let me know) that captures my attitude: All writers have an angle, and some are even upright!

Please feel free to call me out if you find my posture slouching.

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Tips? Suggestions? Comments? Drop a line to: contact (at) ExeterUnafraid (dot) com

Twitter @EUnafraid.

PERSONALITIES, PRINCIPLES & THE PRINCIPAL

Once and for all, let's clear the air on one point: I do not mean to come on down too hard on Bill Rawson. I'm sure he is a terrific guy and a devoted Exonian. No doubt he's an able administrator, too.

Why restate this? I've received feedback expressing concern that my project here is about personalities, not principles. Let me dispel any such misapprehensions. Then, we've got some ground to cover.

Here's some factoids to include in any interpretation of my intentions.

After Rawson was hired last year, I reached out to congratulate him. I sent along the open letter I'd sent to the Principal and President of the Trustees back when the sexual abuse scandal hit in 2016. I posted it online. To my delight, I was informed that it had been read aloud at the Trustee meeting taking place to address the crisis:

A year ago, I sent this to Rawson both for his sake and mine. I thought it was a nice way to open the door to a productive relationship. I wanted to remember the sense of connection I had to Exeter and its leadership when the scandal hit. I sent him this before the start of classes:

...I am encouraged that your candidacy was put forward independently by faculty. I feel that faculty interests have been poorly represented for some time and so am pleased that you are seen by my former colleagues as an advocate for them. Also, I asked -------to share...impressions of you on the BoT. She said that you brought an independent, critical perspective. You were a standout, one of the very few who consistently asked tough questions and challenged assumptions and orthodoxy.

But there were questions, too. The essential one? "Are you a Churchill, the loyal opposition who somehow managed to take the reins to bring authentic, effective change?" 

Why Rawson?

So my actual concern isn't so much Principal Rawson, per se. Rather, it's the systemic issues that provided for his installation.

It seems to me there are three plausible reasons why the Trustees installed him as interim, then promoted him to the permanent job. The first, suggested by a devoted and insightful alum, seems most likely:

1. The school is well-overdue for a capital campaign. It's now been over a decade. Principal MacFarlane was supposed to launch one in 2016, but that was derailed by the scandal. If they followed through with the initial interim schedule, we'd be well along with the search process now, on track for a new Principal in a year's time. It would take the new Principal a year to get sorted before such a campaign could go forward in 2021. Here, Rawson should be set to hit the ground running with it later this year.
2. The Trustees simply don't want to deal with conducting a real-deal full search. It's time-consuming and exhausting - and they just did one recently for MacFarlane. 
3. There's more troubling events that happened during Rawson and Downer's tenure as Trustees than we know about. The Choate/Hall report of the investigation into Trustee and administrative failings was perfunctory. It was tucked away under the headline-grabbing announcement naming faculty malefactors. Perhaps the investigation pointed to things that could prove troublesome if an outsider should take the reins. If so, it would be best for the legacy Trustees to install a colleague to delay and deflect as long as possible. 
4. Any combination of the above. 

Now, the capital campaign logic sounds reasonable and positive. Unfortunately, as we will see, it is unlikely that such a campaign can go forward successfully under Rawson. 

That's a bold assertion. Let's set that aside for a moment. We will return to it.  

As far as the Trustee's desire to deal with a search? Who's to say. Tony Downer co-chaired the last full search. He certainly knows what's involved. 

Now, what about as-yet undisclosed malfeasance in the Choate/Hall investigation or elsewhere? 

When the "Interim Principal Advisory Committee" had rounded up its pool of candidates including  Rawson, PATH (Phillips Exeter Alumni for Truth & Healing) sought to help with the process. They wanted to be sure that the candidates were properly briefed on the status of the sexual assault findings. Also, they wanted to submit questions to the candidates. Their attempts were rebuffed. The reason? If you allowed anyone to ask questions, everyone would want to do the samet. This would be unwieldy and impractical. So PATH published this request as a letter in The Exonian.

The questions for Rawson were simple:

You don’t give dates in your statement, but it seems you might have been a trustee during the first Schubart internal disclosures. If that is true, what was your position, or vote even, on disclosure to the community?

What experiences can you share that suggest that you are ready to lead the current Exeter, and not the Exeter of the past?

I seems entirely possible that Trustee Rawson was in the thick of things examined in the Choate/Hall investigation. I asked Rawson to confirm this in an email in August last year:

Now, what's problematic is that we have no idea what role you played in, for example,
the failures Choate/Hall investigated. Let's consider one connected matter in particular -
Tom Hassan's departure...what is especially troubling is a decision by
Trustees to alter Hassan's contract - I believe this was ratified at the last board meeting
you attended. Here is the relevant text from the Academy's IRS Form 990 for FY16:


SCHEDULE J, PART I, LINE 4B
IN CONNECTION WITH THE FORMER PRINCIPAL'S EMPLOYMENT
AGREEMENT, THE PRINCIPAL WAS ENTITLED TO CONTINUATION OF HIS
ANNUAL BASE SALARY UPON TERMINATION OR EXPIRATION OF HIS
EMPLOYMENT AGREEMENT IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE FOLLOWING: (A)
UPON ATTAINING FIVE FULL YEARS OF SERVICE AS PRINCIPAL HE WAS
ENTITLED TO SIX MONTHS OF HIS ANNUAL BASE SALARY; AND (B) UPON
ATTAINING TEN FULL YEARS OF SERVICE HE WAS ENTITLED TO AN
ADDITIONAL SIX MONTHS OF HIS BASE SALARY. THE PRINCIPAL WAS NOT
ENTITLED TO PAYMENT IF HE IS TERMINATED FOR CAUSE.
EFFECTIVE JUNE 30, 2014, THE ACADEMY ENTERED INTO A REVISED
ARRANGEMENT WITH THE PRINCIPAL THAT SUPERSEDED THE ABOVE IN
CONNECTION WITH THE ADDITIONAL 6 MONTHS OF HIS BASE SALARY
UPON OBTAINING TEN FULL YEARS OF SERVICES. UNDER THE REVISED
AGREEMENT, SUCH PAYMENTS VESTED JUNE 30, 2015.

In other words, Hassan's employee retention bonus for ten-year's service was converted
into what appears to be a $200,000 farewell gift! This is especially problematic in that it
remains unclear whether or not he should have been terminated for cause instead.
As you can imagine, it should be a top priority to clarify what was driving this decision
and to be clear about who participated in it. This should come alongside a complete,
transparent publication of a report of the Choate/Hall investigation into Hassan's actions.
The current "report" fails to even mention his name!

I didn't get a reply to my email. After waiting two weeks, I sent it again. This time, an answer! He was somehow "under the mistaken impression that I had responded to your last communication – not sure how I made that mistake" and promised to follow up.

I will soon explain how that turned out....

Picking up a loose thread

Next, I want to close out a last few discoveries and observations about Rawson's professional background. We're going to be looking one last time at that Senate session to examine William K. Rawson, Esq. work as an "environmental attorney." 

I think I've come up with a novel, unexpected perspective to see this fresh.

One challenge for having a Principal Instructor with no significant professional credentials in academia: what kind of instruction might he offer? 

It would be a shame, however long Principal Rawson remains at PEA, if he doesn't teach or at least co-teach a class. How can you truly understand what's extraordinary about Harkness teaching without hands-on experience? This isn't just for his benefit, either. There's no better way to come to know students than to connect with them in the classroom.

Rawson, I will argue, is extraordinarily qualified to teach an interdisciplinary course on the interrelation between science, business, social activism, professional ethics, personal morality and politics. Also, do not underestimate his teaching experience. He may have grossly understated this when he candidated. It seems he's a seasoned lecturer.  

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Tips? Suggestions? Comments? Drop a line to: contact (at) ExeterUnafraid (dot) com 

Twitter @EUnafraid.

GAUDEAMUS IGITUR: THE GOLDEN SHOVEL AWARD, 1978

An underground comix sensibility
vis-à-vis Timothy P. Moynihan, '74

An essential part of my pre-admission indoctrination to the Academy came from pouring over my older sibs PEANs, the yearbooks from '72 and '74.

At coeducation's inception, alongside the mainstreaming of 60's counterculture, the PEAN took on a freewheeling style. This allowed the occasional off-color comment to make it into the senior quotes.

One still sticks in my mind:

If you asked a bunch of Exies to swim across a river of shit, not only would they do it, but they would make a race of it to see who could get across first.

It's hard to say whether this is more observation, critique or insult. I actually saw logic in it. If you had to do such a thing, why not make the best of it? A contest to speed the process seems perfectly reasonable.

Such an attitude made me Exeter material.

Gaining the Upper Hand

Arriving as a two-year student in the Fall of 1977, there was no time to acculturate. It was a sink-or-swim, and many sank. I soon found myself confronted by one of the key rites of passage: the American History term paper.

In English classes, excessive verbiage often served as cover for those who had not done the day's reading. It was de rigueur to both create and to call out such florid elocution, often referred to as Cosmic Bullshit or CBS and DHM (Deep Hidden Meaning). But my American history class was singular for its collection of loud-mouthed, procrastinating blow-hards and the signature rhetorical styles they evinced - present company not excepted. The ensemble cast featured three characters who dominated the proceedings. Each were like farmers laying down a rich layer of manure to fertilize the day's discussion, yielding an often unsavory harvest. 

In the interest of collegiality, they shall remain anonymous. A description of their particular roles in this malodorous melange will suffice. 

"Dynamic Tension" in the classroom

Together, we tested out our sometimes specious readings of the glories that are our heritage. Each displayed the essential skill for success at the Harkness table and after - the ability to strike a tone of gravitas. With an authoritative air, even self-evidently absurd assertions enjoyed the pretense of plausibility. Also, all evinced the ability to expound at great length. Building on this shared foundation, the contrasting personalities at play added what Charles Atlas termed "dynamic tension" to the proceedings.

The first, let's call him the wisecracker, generated a continual flow of bon mots peppering his observations. While he did not shy away from offering his interpretations of the many and momentous events considered, his greatest contributions came in responding to others. The more grand their pronouncement, the more devastating his cunning quip. In essence, he was serious in his intent to keep us from being serious.

His perfect counterpart was who we'll call the Southern Gent. He affected a courtly manner, like the antebellum cavaliers in the first reel of Gone With the Wind. Given the scarcity of Southern sensibilities at the school, he enjoyed deferential status. In our class, he served as cultural ambassador to what he portrayed as a mythical land. In most any discussion, he would offer what was purportedly the definitive perspective from the far side of the Mason-Dixon line. His finest moments came when he didn't have any particular view on the matter-at-hand. To satisfy Yankee expectations, he would manufacture one - often in the way of extravagant, unfounded claims. These provided the opportunity for the Wisecracker to exercise his excellence. This made for dynamic tension par excellence.

The teacher, who shall also go unnamed for now, seemed resigned to leave much of these fabulist fancies unchallenged. He would inject a note of skepticism only as things got completely out-of-hand.

Back when PEA had a dress code

Our third interlocutor, your humble chronicler of said events, sometimes suffered the schadenfreude of the aforementioned classmates. 

My intellectual development had reached a stage where I found myself able to take what I learned in one area and apply it elsewhere. As I soon discovered, my fledgling attempts at such cross-pollination could prove problematic. One day, I found myself absorbed by a tidbit of psychological insight. The sure sign of true reverence for an accomplishment is when commentators refrain from attributing any element of chance to the achievement. To say that luck was involved would steal away from what was the result of talent and determination. 

During a class discussion about the mass mania that followed Charles Lindbergh's solo trans-Atlantic flight, my classmates tossed in details from the reading. These highlighted the hysteria over him that was a sign of the times. Something touched the national spirit.

Once the Wisecracker and Southern Gent had their say, I unfurled what I felt would be the last word. My insight was not merely a regurgitation from the textbook. This was an original contribution. So I set out my thesis as to how the true measure of the public's extraordinary appreciation was how they attributed Lindbergh's success to skill alone. Luck played no part. I was mellifluousness personified as I unfurled every bit of sail to catch the hot air billowing from me to sally forth into uncharted regions of intellection, much as Lindbergh himself had braved the void over the open Atlantic.

As I finished, the Wisecracker had a question for my otherwise flawless exhortation. 

"That's quite interesting," he said, acknowledging the mastery of my exposition. "But why do you suppose they called him 'Lucky Lindy?'"

The Agony and the Ecstasy

Outside of class, we were expected to be hard at work on what was the culmination of our coursework - the dreaded term paper. The aim was to teach us research skills, how to use the library, pull together sources, use footnotes - a hands-on introduction to scholarly work. We were supposed to have been chipping away at this all term, generating the elements to be honed into a 10-page magnum opus. The syllabus generously alloted time for all this. But given the many other obligations and extracurriculars, I had reallocated that time to other, more pressing tasks.

In class the day before the deadline, each member of our troika tossed a few nervous witticisms about having to start from scratch. The teacher made it plain that if this was a joke, it was not funny.

Knowing this was no joke, we held a council of war after class. To our amazement, we discovered that each shared the same predicament. The three of us were all completely unprepared with only 24 hours till deadline - no research, much less writing. As the shock subsided, we grasped how this afforded an extraordinary opportunity. We each fancied our own brand of BS as the best. Here, sharing the same handicap, we could once-and-for all determine who truly was the champ. The terms of the contest were simple. Whoever got the highest grade would be treated by the others to a sumptuous breakfast at the “grill” – the student on-campus eatery. 

My first post-school byline - in the Bulletin

What lay ahead in that long night's journey into day included another mainstay of the Exeter Experience: the one-draft wonder. This is a forgotten art from the typewriter era lost with the advent of word-processing. You might say that, in its day, the one-draft wonder reflected mastery of Bodhisattva consciousness - first thought, best thought. Rewriting was for those restricted to lesser levels of enlightenment.

I have absolutely no recollection of what I wrote about that night. What I do remember is the all-nighter needed for its completion. I wasn't alone on that odyssey. Dorm mates in other history sections were working on their term papers. As the night got underway, classmates compared notes on where they were at in their research and writing. I explained the contest underway. All I had at the start of the evening's ordeal was a few unread texts and a desire to win that prize breakfast. My peers acknowledged both the audacity and nobility of my quest for excellence amidst adversity. They took an interest in it, offering encouragement. It would be a matter of dorm pride should I triumph given the distinguished field of competitors. To support one another, we scheduled study-break check-ins every 90 minutes, beginning at midnight. This would help strengthen each other's resolve. We would make it through this together.

That first break was my deadline for finishing research. Then, I would be set to grind - shorthand slang for putting your shoulder to the grindstone - on composing the paper itself. As midnight neared, I set aside the texts I'd skimmed. I took a walkabout through the dorm to clear my head on the way to the study break. Along the way, I encountered an underclassman. It was after lights out for him. They had a 10:30 curfew. The all-nighter was reserved for upperclassmen only. I suggested that he return to his quarters immediately. Somehow, we ended up in a scuffle. In the process, I sprained my right thumb. Should I go to the infirmary to have it tended to? There wasn't time. Returning to my task, every keystroke on the typewriter brought searing pain.

I had started the night hopelessly behind those with their research done and writing underway. By the 3am check-in, what has seemed impossible - that I could actually do this - had entered the realm of possibility. Meanwhile, some who seemed so steadfast in their commitment had already folded, surrendering to sleep. But for the indefatigable spirits that remained, our commitment to each other magnified our determination. That was enough to overcome exhaustion. By 4:30am, I was finally on track to finish. As the all-nighter turned to day, I'd managed to pull it off.

Our last check-in gathered those remaining to share a meal of thanksgiving. At that point, I had all-but-forgotten about the contest with my classroom rivals. What mattered was that I had finished - alongside my brothers-in-arms. We had faced the common peril. Whatever the outcome for our efforts in the teacher's gradebook, we had already been found worthy in each other's eyes.

Outsiders to the boarding school experience wonder about the intense loyalty alumni feel for places like Exeter. It's shared moments like these that forge such lifelong bonds.

A Spontaneous Appreciation for a Singular Talent

A hallowed honor

As class time came, I along with my competitors were bleary-eyed as we wandered in to submit whatever we'd managed to cobble together. Unlike college where you could crash after an all-nighter, Exeter required that you reset and rebound. Class that day may have been the only time when our trio showed restraint. We had a long, sleep-deprived day ahead.

When the papers came back a few days later, we all flipped through the pages, glancing at comments. No one was so crass as to simply go to the last page to find the grade. That would be déclassé. The teacher's comments on mine said that the writing seemed a bit rushed. Still, the depth of my research was clear - a solid effort. Then, inside a big red circle, a B- - honors in those days. That earned me the laurels in our competition. The Southern Gent, appropriately enough, earned a "Gentleman's C." The Wisecracker only eked out a passing grade, a D+. 

At the end of the term, the class spontaneously decided to hold a vote to determine who should be honored with the Golden Shovel award. There was no actual shovel - solid gold or mere plate. It was just an informal, infrequent honor bestowed by Exonians to Exonians. The teacher acknowledged that, given the extraordinary talents displayed, it was right to bestow such a distinction on one of our members. The Wisecracker prevailed in the ballot, making up for his undistinguished finish earlier.

Despite the decades past, whatever the particulars of any given Exeter Experience then or now, a timeless truth remains. An all-nighter is a day you've truly lived.

Postscript: 

The teacher, unmentioned, was Rick Schubart. Yes, I knew him well enough. Likewise for Don Foster, my dorm head during my Senior year. Most of all, I knew George Mangan. He was my mentor and, later, we had been close as colleagues. If somehow you don't know, their grievous transgressions with students have been well-documented.

Still, I cannot and will not allow their failings to taint my otherwise sacred memories. But, saying that, I feel ever more acutely an inexpressible sorrow for those directly affected by these violations. Their sacred memories are not so easily untainted.

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Twitter @EUnafraid