Latin School of Chicago

Background: Girls eighth grade class in 1906. Mission & Curriculum 1908 Folio. Mr. Bates often would throw chalk to get his students' attention. 32 By the turn of the century, Latin School was already one of the leading schools in Chicago. It had a reputation for rigor, excellence and an outstanding faculty. "The Latin School, both in the boys and girls departments (which were quite separate) was a splendid institution," Arthur Meeker, an early alumnus, wrote in his book Chicago with Love – A Polite and Personal History. "I owe my teachers there, none of whom I've forgotten, a debt of gratitude: Had I been taught as well later in college as I was in the shabby old brick building on Division Street, I might be a professor myself today." Haven A. Requa '12, fondly remembered his teachers in the 1938 Sigillum: "Most of us remember the old faculty as vividly today as if we had just skipped out of class. R.P. Bates, for example, who loved to put on a roaring, raging act that would scare the wits, if any, out of the senior class and whose unerring aim with a piece of chalk and his pungent wit kept him in high respect with the students. Of course, everybody knew there really wasn't a kindlier, friendlier man in the world than R.P. Bates but now and then disciplining simply had to be maintained – and he was the lad to do it. He did it so well, and my memory of him is so vivid that when I met him recently at the University Club I put my burning cigarette instinctively in to my pocket. If that isn't making a permanent impression, there simply is no such thing. There was the kindly Mr. Bosworth, who would do anything in the world he could to help his students through. He dearly loved any pupil of his who showed a semi-intelligent interest in his subject, which was English and succeeded after an uphill battle against terrific odds in making many of us appreciate the beauty of a jeweled sentence. Mr. McCleod, that sterling Scotsman, whose stubborn will was harder than the granite of his native country, could and did hammer mathematics into the most resistant skulls, and accomplished this practically impossible job with the utmost good nature. L AT I N M AGAZINE three generations of Chicago school boys and girls remember," the Chicago Daily Tribune wrote during Miss Vickery's last visit to Chicago in 1937. The portrait of Miss Vickery by famed London artist Frank O. Salisbury that was commissioned by the alumnae association in 1929 (and still hangs in the school today) was criticized for making her look taller than she was. In fact, this was purposeful, according to Josephine Wilkins. "[It] was done to emphasize her innate dignity," Wilkins later wrote. In the classroom, Miss Vickery was a "strict but gentle disciplinarian." (Wilkins) Her favorite subject was ancient history, which she taught in the upper school. Miss Vickery held strong beliefs about education and the well-being of her students. Describing herself as a "disciple of Col. Francis W. Parker." By all accounts, Miss Vickery was no shrinking violet when it came to topics about which she was passionate. "It was she who with Mrs. Emmons Blaine drove to the offices of Byron Smith, Marshall Field, Cyrus McCormick and other leading Chicagoans personally to enlist their aid when Col. Parker was threatened with discharge from his post as head of the Chicago Normal College because of his advanced theories," according to the Chicago Daily Tribune. Cleanliness, neatness and fresh air also were important to her. She believed that "one could not study in a room over 68 degrees, and on visiting a classroom would go directly to the windows and throw them open," Wilkins wrote. She was particularly proud of the girls school and made it her home. "The school," according to the 1929 Rostra, "was the visible expression of the ideals of Mabel Slade Vickery, second from left, surrounded by the early girls school faculty.

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