Community, continuity and school closures

We shutter and move schools at our collective peril

The high school I went to is holding a 60th anniversary party this weekend on Oct. 5. Well, it’s not actually the high school I went to, that high school has been demolished and replaced by a housing development. But it’s the same name: Bishop Ryan High School and it’s currently located on Rymal Road on the east Mountain. I say currently located because who knows what the years can bring; it might find itself moving even further south on the escarpment, miles and miles away from its roots in the east end of the lower city.

It’s not the same school I went to, not by a long shot. Where we were overcrowded and crammed into classrooms, the new school is spacious and well appointed. The library itself is at least three times bigger than the one in the original school. And then there’s the football field. Is it any wonder football thrives in the Catholic system when facilities such as these are supporting players and coaches?

I wasn’t happy when they shut the original school down, despite its overcrowding and structural decay. It wasn’t that old. In fact, it’s as old as I am, having been established in 1958. When compared with the stately edifices of the public system such as Westdale and Delta, it’s obvious the building itself lacked the staying power to withstand the generations.

I suppose they could have used the same location to build a new school. I was fortunate, being close enough to walk to school. So many of my fellow students had to take the bus, either public transit or the school bus. It was a bit of a walk, but taking the bus was a convoluted process. If I were going to high school today, I probably wouldn’t have gone to Bishop Ryan up on the east Mountain. I probably would have gone to a school I could walk to in the public system. There were more of them, three within the same distance.

I’ve been to the new school up on Rymal Road and it is a beautiful building. It’s a bit off the beaten path, the bus service is pretty bad, especially at night, and the sidewalk situation could be better. It’s a school for the future, if not for the present. There’s still portables on the property so one has to wonder how long before it moves even further toward the city boundaries.

After the original school closed, the school was moved — that is, the administration, teachers and students were moved — to a temporary location while the new building was constructed. I guess the old school was crumbling about their heads for them to abandon it altogether for temporary quarters. That kind of moving around can play havoc with establishing community around a shared experience. It might have been about then that I began feeling like my school was gone, like a large part of my past had been wiped off the face of the Hamilton landscape. When I travelled down Queenston Road with my kids, I had to say: “This is where I used to go to school, there was a school there before the houses were built.” Contrast the difference with the grade school they attended in the public system, where they could point to a picture of me, hanging on the wall in my Grade 1 class, a legacy project of the 1967 centennial celebrations. I realize that’s a special thing, not everyone has that kind of continuity of community. Change happens fast, people move, schools are torn down, new ones erected.

This year’s 60th anniversary celebration holds a special challenge, common to schools that have moved. How do you maintain a sense of continuity of community, of belonging to a tradition, when a vital part of that community and tradition, the building or space that houses it, disappears?

It rests with the people, with the relationships forged during those tumultuous teen years. It sits with the teachers who made a difference in the lives of their students; who coached sports teams, who stayed late to help struggling students, who directed the year-end musical and who accompanied students on yearend trips. It sits with the school secretaries and support staff who helped kids with clothing and food when they needed it. And it sits with the students who carry forward with them the hopes and dreams nurtured through learning and discovery, who strengthen the ties forged in high school with business and professional connections, tying everyone together in a caring community.

Schools aren’t just buildings, they hold inside their walls the hearts and minds of our communities. We shutter and move them at our peril.

Margaret Shkimba will be attending the Bishop Ryan 60th Anniversary Celebrations, Oct. 5, 7 p.m. to midnight, Michelangelo’s Banquet Centre. If you see me say hi — I’d love to catch up. Or “friend” me on Facebook, follow me on Twitter.