At Harvard

Even after two sojourns in Cambridge, amounting to four school years, I was still a newcomer, in some ways. As a Tech Tool, back in 1960, I’d taken part in hacking the Sacred Statue in observance of our downriver centennial. With my fellows, I’d made chronic and conventional fun of the stuffy Harvies1 in the “Little Red Schoolhouse on Mass Ave.” And now, as the saying goes, “I are one.”

Here’s one view of Longfellow2 Hall, headquarters of the Harvard Graduate School of Education3 and my institutional home until 1971, from Garden Street across Radcliffe Yard. 1You’ve heard about the Harvie and the Tool at adjacent urinals? After doing his business, the Harvie turned to the sink; the Tool moved to the door. Over his shoulder, the Harvie remarked, “At Hahvahd, we learn to wash our hands after we urinate.” To which the Tool rejoined, "At MIT, we learn not to urinate on our hands.” 2That’s Alice Mary Longfellow (1850-1928), by the way: “Grave Alice,” in her father’s famous poem. As a child, she lived just a couple of blocks up Brattle Street. Later, she was instrumental in founding Radcliffe. Dunno whether “laughing Allegra” or “Edith with golden hair” have any local buildings named after them. 3Some of us pronounced HGSE “Hugsey,” in token of our warm-and-fuzzy feelings about it.

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