The search "schools" yielded
10 articles

Where have all the lightning bugs gone?

I’m not an entomologist—not even of the armchair variety.  Nor am I a conservationist, or a meteorologist.  My schooling in ecology does not extend beyond a single graduate-level course that dealt with how urban development disrupts various animals’ habitat and migration patterns.  And it is that course content that I can apply against a backdrop

How parochial can public education get?

Though it sits on a prominent corner in the Columbia Heights neighborhood of Washington DC, this repurposed old school building doesn’t hold a candle in opulence to some of the neighboring churches on 16th Street: It’s unlikely that many would consider it an ugly building, though I suspect historic preservationists would pull their hair out

Chatham Park: a great new development under threat by its own neighbors.

My latest just went up at Urban Indy.  I’ve covered the proposal multiple times in the past.  A developer in a downtown Indianapolis neighborhood called Chatham Arch wants to repurpose the site of a long-underutilized old elementary school, occupying an entire block.  It currently looks like this: He wants to transform it to this: A mix

Another defunct college campus, cleft in two.

If I call this article my third installment in a trilogy on abandoned campuses, I guess that implies that I’m done with the subject for a while. And I am. But after exploring old campuses in small cities (or perhaps “big towns” is the better term) in Nebraska and South Dakota, it’s time to take a

MONTAGE: When the pursuit of all things suburban becomes a religion, Part II.

Part I of this photo-heavy blog article provided an overview of the history of the Village of Kiryas Joel, a rapidly expanding enclave of Satmar Hasidic Jews tucked in the woods of Orange County, about 60 miles north of New York City. Surrounded by what would appear to most viewers as pretty standard post-war suburban

Country Chic, Part II – Transforming Rural Character into a Hot Commodity.

In part one of this essay, I explored how the successful business, Trader’s Point Creamery, has become an archetype for the character of the community of Trader’s Point, a large spread of rolling wooded countryside still sitting squarely within Indianapolis city limits. This is a part of the city that, while affluent, has relinquished lot

MONTAGE: Small town in the big city.

As an antidote to my previous, text-heavy post, I offer one that focuses almost entirely on images, looking at remnants of small towns and rural communities in Marion County that have long ago been engulfed by the continuous urbanization of the city of Indianapolis. I’m not the first to attempt this. Urban Indy has featured

Invisible fences for humans, Part III: Importing desirability to schools that lack the demographic advantages.

My previous post on this subject explored my hypothesis, on how school districts derive most of their competitive advantage from demographics that favor high educational attainment. The greatest public schools (typically not in collar townships) earn their cachet far more from demographics that skew towards either low poverty or ethnic homogeneity (or ideally a combination

Invisible fences for humans, Part II: Harnessing control through the schools.

After a longer lapse than usual, I treat whoever is interested to a feast of text with this post—not much to get excited about I suppose, but I promise this isn’t the new norm, and any responses are greatly appreciated. In a recent post, I observed the distinctive character of the suburban enclave of Bexley,

Where have all the lightning bugs gone?

I’m not an entomologist—not even of the armchair variety.  Nor am I a conservationist, or a meteorologist.  My schooling in ecology does not extend beyond a single graduate-level course that dealt with how

How parochial can public education get?

Though it sits on a prominent corner in the Columbia Heights neighborhood of Washington DC, this repurposed old school building doesn’t hold a candle in opulence to some of the neighboring churches on

Another defunct college campus, cleft in two.

If I call this article my third installment in a trilogy on abandoned campuses, I guess that implies that I’m done with the subject for a while. And I am. But after exploring

MONTAGE: Small town in the big city.

As an antidote to my previous, text-heavy post, I offer one that focuses almost entirely on images, looking at remnants of small towns and rural communities in Marion County that have long ago

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