A to B: Michael Durall, Ed.M.’88

I enrolled at HGSE in the fall of 1987. In my files I have a paper receipt printed from a dot matrix printer for $9,000 in tuition for one semester. Attached to it with a paper clip is a notice from Gutman Library, stating ominously that if I don’t pay an overdue fine of $1.20, I won’t get my diploma.

I grew up in Pawnee Rock, Kansas, population 250. Though I’d left Kansas many years before, Harvard and Cambridge were heady places for a small town kid. For example, I never imagined that I’d hear B. F. Skinner speak. I also attended a lecture by John Kenneth Galbraith, author of the seminal book, The Affluent Society, and former ambassador to India in the Kennedy administration. He was instantly recognizable, being 6’8” tall. He lived in a beautiful old house on Francis Avenue near the Divinity School, and his entire front yard was planted with tulips, which bloomed in a riot of colors every spring. Julia Child lived across the street.

Of course, everyone at Harvard can drop names, which is not my intention here. But I do confess to having a framed note from the late Rev. Peter Gomes, longtime minister at Memorial Church, on my office wall, which I treasure.

I wasn’t a teacher, but rather had a career in nonprofit organizations. I came to Harvard to study leadership, management, finance, and philanthropy. I was fortunate in my selection of an adviser to get Paul Ylvisaker, the former dean. I felt like a pilgrim who had climbed to the mountaintop to meet the guru.

I had some edgy ideas in mind when I came to HGSE, and rolled them out to Ylvisaker. He smiled knowingly, perhaps thinking that my ideas would never come to fruition but not wanting to discourage me, and replied, “Use your best judgment and I’ll always back you up.”

He also taught a class titled Education and Philanthropy. He had been at the Ford Foundation for many years, and was the guy who signed the checks to grantees. He had a lot of markers out. During this class, visiting speakers included the heads of the Ford Foundation, the MacArthur Foundation, the Rockefeller Foundation, and the Pew Charitable Trusts. I had never met such a thoughtful, kindly man who exerted such enormous influence.

My classes were interesting, and while challenging, the content was within my abilities. However, I was taken aback at the experience and expertise of my classmates. Some were from abroad, or had worked and studied abroad. They spoke numerous languages. The atmosphere was both stimulating and intimidating. I listened considerably more than I spoke.

In a class on leadership, I met nine college presidents. I finally figured out how to read financial statements. Arthur Levine, who went from Harvard to become the president of Teacher’s College at Columbia, was an animated and accessible soul. He was a noted author, yet I was struck by his humility, and his honest, down-to-earth manner.

Of course, alumni/ae from that era moan the loss of the Tasty Diner and the Bow and Arrow Pub, both featured in the movie Good Will Hunting. The Coop in those days was like an old-fashioned Ben Franklin store where you could buy Fruit of the Loom socks and underwear, and the ubiquitous Oxford cloth shirt and tan trench coat.

At that time, Out of Town News carried newspapers from 25-30 foreign countries, and their appearance on the rack was a work of art, the headlines in foreign languages visually stunning. Harvard Square was a random assortment of mom and pop stores, unlike the gaudy strip mall/chain store appearance of today. Back then, adventuresome souls could play the chess master for $2 at an outdoor table in front of Holyoke Center (now the Smith Center), rain or shine.

Admittedly, alumni/ae get nostalgic for the “good old days” as they grow older. And yes, many things today are “new and improved.” But for graduates of my era, that doesn’t always mean better. I suspect that most of us are grateful we were around to see those earlier times.

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