A Letter

"Dear Mr. Magno,

After hearing about the plans for WAVM's 25th anniversary, I decided that I wanted to present you with a paper I wrote my senior year in college.

I enrolled in a class called The Philosophy of Education in which we studied a variety of education theorists, including John Dewey, Vivian Paley, Israel Scheffler, Nel Noddings, and Wendell Berry. The class was definitely a tough one. My professor demanded an immense amount of reading and writing and based most of our grades on class participation and discussion. In the midst of New Hampshire's prime skiing season, the last thing I wanted to be doing was a ton of work -- but I had no choice.

For our final assignment of the term, my professor asked us to incorporate all the theories we had learned into a paper about the greatest educator we had ever had. Some classmates wrote about high school teachers, coaches, grandparents, uncles, aunts, and brothers -- one student even wrote about his dog. My decision, however, was very easy. I chose you.

Mr. Magno, I offer you this paper for many reasons -- but mostly just to thank you. You are a great man, Mr. Magno, and I will never forget the influence you had on me. I can only hope that I have captured in these ten pages just a bit of the magic that you brought to all of our lives.

Fondly,

Dan Kalafatas
W. Dennis, MA"

The Eyes and Ears of Tigertown:
The Story of an Educator, His Philosophy, and a Small Town Radio Station

(This paper is dedicated to Joseph P. Magno -- my teacher, advisor, and friend)

Daniel Kalafatas
Education 28: The Philosophy of Education
Professor Randi Testa
Dartmouth College
March 5, 1996

The Eyes and Ears of Tigertown:
The Story of an Educator, His Philosophy, and a Small Town Radio Station

I. Prologue
I don't remember the first time that I saw Mr. Magno, but it was probably sometime in elementary school. At that age, I religiously attended Maynard high school football games and often fantasized of the day that I might play on the team myself. During the games, I remember noticing a man working busily in the press box high above the bleachers. I always kept my distance though -- partially because I didn't want to miss a second of the game, but mostly because Mr. Magno scared me.

Mr. Magno is over six feet tall and was, at the time, extremely overweight. His hands were meaty paws; his fingers looked like giant sausages; and the few wisps of brown hair on his head encircled his shiny head. A few times, I saw him level a menacing stare at one of his students, making him appear evil and dangerous, like he would have been more comfortable wearing shoulder pads and a helmet than the headset that hung around his neck.

He always had a band of intent students around him who were frequently carrying all sorts of interesting equipment -- coiled wires, studio lights, and videotapes. I have to admit, I was a bit curious. At the time, I had no idea that I was only seeing half of the man that Mr. Magno was. All I knew is that he was the faculty advisor of WAVM, my town's high school radio and cable television station -- and that he scared me. Had I known then how much time I was destined to spend with him, I probably would have cried.

II. Introduction
One fall afternoon in sixth grade, I was bored. I didn't have soccer practice or saxophone lessons, and my 'girlfriend', Carolyn Nowd, would only let me walk her home from school about once a week. A few of my friends told me they were going to walk up to the high school and visit "AVM", and they asked me to come along. The idea sounded great until the haunting image of Mr. Magno shot through my head. My friends sensed my hesitation and, with much urging, convinced me to join them. "What did I have to lose?" I thought. "Mr. Magno can't be that mean."

That afternoon we shuffled nervously into the Maynard High School library and found Mr. Magno sitting at a round table with four of his students. They were all busily working on various parts of a poster that was spread out on the table, laughing and joking as they colored in outlines of turkeys with brown and black markers. I immediately noticed that Mr. Magno looked remarkably different than he had before: sitting behind the table with the students around him, he seemed less intimidating. His big hands were masterfully drawing turkeys and pumpkins with the skill of an artist; and the smile on his face was as reassuring as his gaze before had been chilling.

Seeing us, he jumped up from his chair with energy that belied his age and physique. I was shocked. He quickly came toward us and asked if we were interested in joining the station. We responded eagerly. Before I knew it, I had been introduced to Eric Wozny who quickly took us inside the station and into the radio booth. Spending time at the high school had always been fun, but this was beyond my dreams. I was now meeting people who before I only idolized. In an instant, I was an 'official' member of WAVM and was learning how to operate the myriad different knobs and buttons that adorned the radio control board. By that evening, I had been fully trained in the broadcast booth; and, if I successfully passed the federal radio broadcasting certification test, I would have my own radio show. I could hardly wait.

III. Body
Since its creation in 1972, Mr. Magno has built WAVM into one of the nation's finest student -run stations. At one point during my tenure at WAVM, one-third of the school was involved with the station. And, in my junior year, WAVM was chosen fourth among two hundred student-run radio stations nationally -- the first among high school stations primarily for the production of its annual Beacon Santa telethon. In talking to Mr. Magno, he likes to deflect any recognition and acclaim to the students, arguing that they deserve all the credit for the station's success because they do the actual work. In some sense, he is right: the students are the ones who schedule radio shows, edit recorded video shoots, work the studio and field cameras, and even host the on-air productions. What truly has made WAVM so successful is Mr. Magno's uncanny ability to create an environment in which it is easy and fun to learn. In providing a non-traditional setting for learning and in utilizing a variety of teaching strategies, he found a way to give every WAVM member who had the will a real opportunity to succeed.

What Mr. Magno essentially set up was a Montessori school for high school kids -- an integrated opportunity for students to learn by doing. Mr. Magno often called it 'a school within a school'. Instead of blocks and crayons, our toys were cameras, microphones, editing systems and broadcasting booths. He sought to pique students' interests, like he did for me, by having them experience first hand the thrill of operating a radio booth or the satisfaction of creating a smoothly edited videotape. Maria Montessori argues that a child needs to have an integral relationship with its environment and that it needs freedom in that environment to pursue its own interests. Initially, Mr. Magno set up training for new students, but afterward, the onus was largely upon the student. He encouraged them to pursue their interests and learn by doing, allowing anyone to listen to music, edit, or sign out a camcorder and microphone at any time of the day. Students could (and would) access and master the use of this equipment on a regular basis. Mr. Magno himself said, "You learn by doing, by trial and error, not through a strict classroom or academic approach." Once students were trained on equipment, Mr. Magno encouraged them to sign up for editing, radio, or camera slots; and he had students do the training. At the age of thirteen, I was already training people on how to handle camcorders and microphones. Mr. Magno never trained anyone himself (at least that I ever witnessed). We always speculated that he was just lazy, but he was -- at least in essence -- extending our education by embracing education philosopher Gilbert Highet's perspicacious observation that "teaching is inseparable from learning."

Mr. Magno had a terrible love for humor and practical joking that made WAVM even more inviting. He convinced a freshman once that he sold his car because he couldn't figure out how to reset the clocks after Daylight Savings. After one of my friends threw a party one weekend, Mr. Magno drove him to hide in his locker after convincing him that the Maynard police had surrounded the High School complex to arrest him. Mr. Magno even institutionalized these antics in the annual Manager/Director Christmas 'Bust' Party, a hilarious affair at which everyone was received 'bust' gifts. Mr. Magno frequently had us pull his finger to help him fart and regularly cursed to lighten the mood (although never in front of parents). Gilbert Highet writes, "When people laugh together, they cease to be young and old, master and pupils, workers and driver, jailer and prisoners, they become a single group of human beings enjoying human existence." Mr. Magno's humor bridged the gap between the student and teacher, brought the group together, and made WAVM fun place to be. Mr. Magno himself said to me:

There is a time to be serious and a time to have fun. When the microphone is on, it is all serious, but when the time is right it is important to be a kid. I act like I am fifteen one minute and sixty the next. I talk in their language so I can get down on their level. I can relate to them and they can relate to me.

Mr. Magno had three passions -- communications, children, and cars. His love for cars was, in fact, absolutely ridiculous. At last count, he has owned one hundred-eight in his lifetime. Every single one has the 'MAGNO' vanity plate on the back, and he even once bought a Ford Bronco with his name written on it in nautical flags. Allegedly, in route to pick up his sister once, Mr. Magno stopped at a car dealership for an oil change appointment and was told that it would be a half hour delay. Not wanting to be late, Mr. Magno bought another car on the spot and drove out of the lot. In treating something so adult as a toy, Mr. Magno further entered our realm as students and as kids.

Highet writes, "The second function of the teacher is to make a bridge between youth and maturity. He has to interpret adult life to the young in such a way as to make them adults. To do this he should belong to both worlds." Without a wife or children of his own, his "family" included the friend with which he shared an apartment and his WAVM kids. On weekends and in the summer, he frequently would take a few of us to an amusement park, the movies, skiing, or bowling. In experiencing life along with him, he helped us learn about life from an adult-child perspective, and opened our eyes to what life was like for an older, single man.

John Dewey says that school must be as real as that which occurs in the students life. Mr. Magno maintained a constant, unbreakable connection to the outside world, making our endeavors at WAVM all the more alive and relevant. Every year, he left us flabbergasted when he somehow managed to bring the likes of Chad Allen, Ricky Schroeder, Adam Rich, and Anthony Michael Hall to the our annual spring awards banquet. Although I was "too cool" to pay much attention to these celebrities, many -- particularly the junior high school girls -- had no qualms with throwing themselves at the feet of these stars. By bringing them into our lives every year, Mr. Magno brought the world of television and movie into our lives in a tangible way (even for people like me). The framed pictures on the studio walls of the sixty-nine WAVM graduates who went on to pursue professional careers at companies like NBC, ESPN, CBS, and Paramount were monuments to WAVM's success and constant reminders that what we were learning could be applied to everyday life. Their frequent visits to see WAVM and Mr. Magno made us realize that if we worked hard enough we could enter that world. Watching a movie together, Mr. Magno demanded to stay for the credits and invariably recognized someone's name as it rolled by. Mr. Magno actually worked for Cablevision, the local cable television provider, continuing his own education and connecting himself to day-to-day issues in the industry. Highet writes, "It is simply useless to teach a child even the elements of a subject, without being prepared to answer his questions about the upper ranges and the inner depths of the subject....A limited field of material stirs very few imaginations." At a time in my life when my school's ability to educate its students was coming under intense fire and regionalization seemed inevitable, Mr. Magno gave me confidence in my abilities by grounding them in the real world and made me consider communications as a possible -- and certainly attainable -- career path.

What began as a search for something to do after school soon became a passion for me. I quickly endeavored to master as many aspects of the station as I could, but what I most enjoyed about WAVM was the atmosphere. As my relationship with Mr. Magno developed, I began to spend more time at WAVM. I took advantage of the innumerable tutors by bringing along my homework. In this sense, Mr. Magno enabled me, as Israel Scheffler would suggest, to attain my academic capabilities -- oddly enough, through an extracurricular activity. I found myself surrounded by mentors and idols of all kinds. Over time, I began to befriend some of the high school students. They were all people almost my brother's age, but they were meeting me as a contemporary -- I think, at least once in a while, genuinely enjoying my company. I recall Dave Manning, a senior basketball player, who in seventh grade lifted me by the ankles to give me an inverted tour of the school. Like Cheers, WAVM had become a place where everybody knew my name. I was feeling increasingly more comfortable in this learning environment. In a time in my life when acceptance was rare, this was crucial in developing my self-confidence and self-respect.

Mr. Magno was instrumental in my personal development by giving me (and everyone in WAVM) the opportunity to grow and achieve increasingly more difficult tasks. After learning the basics of interviewing early in eighth grade, I spent a handful of afternoons that fall interviewing local town officials and citizens. Seeing my progress and knowing my love of hockey, Mr. Magno chose me to represent WAVM on a special film shoot to interview the Boston Bruins and, particularly, Ray Borque -- arguably the best defenseman in all of professional hockey. As a fourteen year-old defenseman myself, the prospect of meeting Ray Borque left me speechless. In the days that followed, I read every Bruins' article I could find and endlessly drafted questions in preparation for the task. The experience ended up a complete success. In fact, I was able to see a new side of the Bruins that day. The interview was literally held in the locker room, and the team members paraded around room totally naked. Israel Scheffler writes, "New potentials arise with the realization of the old." The confidence I gained in my speaking, interviewing, and camera abilities was instrumental in gaining me a position as Control Room Director the following year. For me and many others, Mr. Magno's subtle machinations -- oftentimes actions which in the moment seemed insignificant -- helped us come to know and realize our capabilities.

Mr. Magno established a hierarchy of directors, managers, and general managers at WAVM, implementing a system in which students could take on increasingly more responsibility. Every spring he appointed a new class of students to fill these key positions. As a freshman, Mr. Magno chose me to direct the Control Room, largely because of my interviewing success the year before. I was responsible for scheduling and training the personnel necessary to staff a 20-hour programming week, which included live studio shows and remote broadcasts. The prospect of advancement and added responsibility in years ahead pushed me to master my own and other aspects of the radio station. In the following years, I became Cable Programming Manager, Cable Operations Managers, and, finally, General Manager of the entire station, assuming increasingly more responsibility as time went on. Each position required more public speaking, time-management, and team-building skills than the last. Vivian Paley's kindergarten students act out different relationships in their play and, in doing so, achieve a better understanding of the world around them. We similarly were able to act out relationships (I am your boss -- we are equals -- you are my boss) within the mock-corporate hierarchy -- in essence we "played corporate". By means of this structure, Mr. Magno taught me to believe in my abilities and likely led me to pursue internship possibilities in recent days with added aplomb.

As fun and exciting as spending time at WAVM could be, Mr. Magno was deadly serious about maintaining an environment of professionalism. The following story sheds some light on how Mr. Magno implicitly taught us about discipline and taking responsibility for our actions:

A back injury kept me out of two football games during my junior year. Frustrated and dejected, I stood on the sideline during the second game and watched my team lose in the final minutes largely, I thought, as a result of poor play-calling by my head coach. Infuriated and disappointed after the game, I climbed the bleachers to the press box where two friends had been televising the game. For nearly ten minutes, I criticized my head coach in a series of vulgar and abusive expletives. Little did I know, however, that the master volume on the microphone had never been turned off and that my uncensored opinions had been broadcasted into the six surrounding towns. In the wake of that incident, I was suspended from school, my induction into the National Honor Society was nearly revoked, and I had the joy of looking my coach in the eye and telling him that I called him a "****ing retard".

Always the first to make amends, Mr. Magno called me that Sunday night, immediately poking fun at me to make light of the situation. Then, as he often did, he asked me and a few friends to go with him to the movies that night. Reflecting on the incident, he offered these words," For every door you close in a students life, you have to open a window."

IV. Conclusion
My WAVM experience culminated in September of my junior year. I was chosen to co-host WAVM's premier event -- the Annual Beacon Santa Telethon, a thirty-hour, round-the-clock radio and cable telethon that raises money for the underprivileged in Central Massachusetts around Christmastime.

Preparing for the telethon is a monumental task, requiring months of work and the participation of hundreds of people. On top of recruiting local talent to perform on-air, and coordinating camera, control room, and radio schedules, the WAVM staff canvases the town to solicit donations and auction items.

As a co-host, I was responsible for coordinating all aspects of the telethon. It was the greatest challenge I had ever faced in my life, requiring an enormous amount of time and energy and every skill I had learned from Mr. Magno.

When the final second ticked off the clock, we had raised over $15,000. Simultaneously exhausted and exhilarated, I felt a sense of pride and accomplishment unlike any I had felt in my life. The telethon gave me an opportunity to give back -- to my town, my community, and the hundreds for whom WAVM's generous contribution gives them something to be happy about at Christmas.

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