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Hello and welcome.��
I’m Claire Fruitman. I graduated from the Cabinet & Furniture Making program some time ago and began teaching in that program in 2000. I transitioned from teaching�� to the administration as Provost in 2007, and now have the honor of serving as North Bennet Street School’s Interim President.

I’ve been to every �Ļ�ӰԺ graduation since 1994, and I can honestly say—it never gets old. Seeing the proud, joyful faces of graduating students, and their families, friends, instructors, and supporters—everyone!—gathered here in celebration of all you’ve accomplished is always deeply moving.��

This is one of those rare times when we get to pause—after a year or more of pursuing your goals, your dreams, and your craft. Today, I want you to simply take in the result of all the work you’ve done that has brought you to this moment.��

Graduation is a celebration of completion. But it’s also a moment of transition. From student to practitioner, from this small, intense, skilled community to a broader world… One that very much needs what you’ve built here. So before we talk about what’s next, I’d like to reflect for a moment on what it took to get to now.

You arrived at North Bennet from a wide variety of paths: some of you had never picked up a chisel or clamp before your first day; others had years of experience but came seeking more refined knowledge. Some of you came straight from school, others from the military, and still others from entirely different careers. For instance, we have a former journalist, a farmer, and a pharmacy technician among others.

From walking through the workshops, machine rooms, tuning rooms, the bindery, and other working spaces in and outside of the school, I know this for certain: what you built here wasn’t just furniture, walls, books, or instruments—you built confidence.

Because what we do at North Bennet has always been about more than tools and techniques. Yes, we teach knowledge and skills. But we also align our head, heart, and hands in meaningful work. It’s a part of our educational philosophy from our very founding 145 years ago.

At �Ļ�ӰԺ we educate the whole person—fostering good judgment, persistence, organization, adaptability, and a deeper understanding of yourself and the world around you.

I’ve seen this firsthand in our students this year. I know more than one graduating student who before �Ļ�ӰԺ had never sharpened a plane iron and now can sharpen well enough to plane the toughest of wood with the thinnest shaving. There’s another graduating student who had never done master keying before and can now tell me how many possible key combinations there are based on three levels of a keying plan for an institution with 45 changes: 91,125. And I know graduating students from Jewelry Making and Repair who came in with no experience and now can flush set multiple stones in an hour. And these are just a few of the 94 people we’re celebrating today who have all learned and grown during their time here.��

In many ways, our programs are rooted in traditions that are centuries old. But make no mistake, this is not a static place. Like life itself, North Bennet is a place of constant change. Projects shift. Skills evolve. Mistakes are made and learned from. Other mistakes are made and then learned from as well. You’ve lived that cycle. You’ve built resilience, and in doing so, you’ve grown not just as a craftsperson, but as a person.

You leave today with something more enduring than a diploma or certificate: you have knowledge, skill, and confidence—which together allow you to act with both care and purpose. These are the foundations of long-term success—not just professionally, but personally.

Because building a life is not so different from building a project. You begin with a plan—but along the way, you make adjustments. There are unexpected bumps and imperfect fits. You adapt. You refine. And if you listen—to your materials, your clients, your collaborators, and your own inner voice—you’ll continue building something meaningful.

Before I conclude, and move on, a moment of thanks:

• To all the families, friends, and loved ones here—thank you for supporting our students through long hours, the emotional ups and downs, and countless cups of coffee. Your belief in them helped bring them to this moment.
• To our faculty: your guidance and expertise shape not just great craftspeople, but thoughtful professionals. Thank you.
• To our Teaching Assistants and staff: thank you for everything you’ve contributed to this year’s success. 
• To our donors, supporters, and others who have invested in our remarkable school: Thank you.
• And let’s not forget Tony Malionek, our organist today and a fellow �Ļ�ӰԺ alum! Thank you for continuing this tradition so beautifully.

So, Class of 2025: you are ready. …. I know, it’s scary!��
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But you are ready. Not because your education is complete, but because you’ve developed the mindset to keep learning. You’ve built the skills, and the confidence, to take your work into the world—and to keep growing, keep refining, and keep building.

Congratulations on all you’ve accomplished. Today, you leave as graduates—and as craftspeople prepared not only to do excellent work, but to live with intention. You join a community of alumni who continue to build lives—and careers—with care, commitment, and purpose.

We’re so, so proud to send you forward. Thank you.

First of all, I want to thank and acknowledge Claire for stepping up to the plate, doing doing a wonderful job, and serving the School during this period of transition.

Congratulations to the Class of 2025! And congratulations and thank you to friends and relatives who have been so supportive of our class this year.
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It is an honor for me to be here on behalf of the Board of Directors to tell you today how much we are in awe of each and every one of you.
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Reflect on what you have accomplished—the lessons you have mastered, the obstacles you have overcome through perseverance to make a nascent idea a beautiful reality, and your dedication to meaningful work. All of this is extraordinary.
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We are so fortunate to have talented instructors willing to share their precious knowledge so you can share it with the world.
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You have been trained at the best and the most prestigious school in this great country for each of your individual disciplines, and when you leave today, you will be among the select few who can proudly say you are a North Bennet Street School graduate.
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Whether you are binding a book, preserving a precious architectural work of art, securing a safe, making a musical instrument, building a home, creating a Chippendale, perfecting the pitch on a piano, or setting a stone to perfection, you are following the tradition and excellence of those who have come before you. Your work is meaningful, important, and permanent.
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You have mastered a skill that can change the world, transform your community, and improve the lives of those around you. It is a great responsibility and a privilege.
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Sometimes inspiration can come from those that tell you: “That won’t work” and “No”. But North Bennet is all about “Yes”.
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So go out and make your mark. Create your legacy. Others will notice.
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On a personal note, you have shown me how important dedication to craft is, how pride in your work brings joy, how meaningful work connects us to each other, and how it preserves the best traditions of those generations of talented men and women who came before us.
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When you leave North Bennet,��your work will be meaningful, important, and permanent. Treasure this because you can and should make the world a better place for others. You now have that skill and, God willing, you will enjoy that privilege for many years to come.
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So, congratulations to each and everyone of you.

Introduction by Board Chair, Thomas Piemonte

One of the perks of being on the Board at North Bennet is we get the privilege, the honor, to introduce the Distinguished Alumni Award winner. And this year, the 2025 award goes to Daniel Levitan, a 1975 graduate of our School’s Piano Technology program!

This award is given each year to an �Ļ�ӰԺ graduate who demonstrates outstanding professional accomplishments, contributions to industry, and work with schools and organizations which promote excellence in craft.

Dan is an author, instructor, and mentor who has been immensely influential in the piano technology field. His generosity, humility, and decades of dedication to his trade are well known to fellow technicians.

Over the course of his 50-year career, Dan published over 40 articles in The Piano Technicians Journal, the eminent publication of the Piano Technicians Guild (PTG). Dan contributed to—or was featured in—many other articles in the Journal, and served for many years as its tuning editor. In 2008, he was awarded the Jack Greenfield award for exceptional writing.��

His other contributions to PTG include years as a prominent instructor at national conferences, regional conventions, seminars and chapter meetings across the country, as well as years of service as a certified tuning examiner. In 2021, Dan was inducted into the PTG Hall of Fame.��

Dan’s excellence as an instructor has resulted in several international teaching experiences, one of which heavily informed the development of his book, The Craft of Piano Tuning. The book brings a fresh and engaging perspective to the science of piano tuning, and as such has become the definitive resource for theoretical and practical knowledge in the field.��

A lifelong-learner, his pursuit of elevating his craft and helping others led to extensive research in body mechanics as they relate to piano tuning. As a result of this research, Dan invented and patented a fully re-engineered tuning hammer that reflects both innovation and practicality.

All of these accomplishments clearly establish Dan as a distinguished member of our alumni community. Perhaps more meaningful than these accolades is his character. Dan once navigated the streets of New York City by bicycle to ply his trade, taking equal delight in the service of instruments great and small, new and old, run-down and remarkable.��

He remains generous with his time, serving as a mentor and resource for technicians in his local area, and farther afield. He is the type of person who is truly deserving of this honr—not despite his humility, but because of it.��

For all of his accomplishments and talents, we are proud to call him one of our own. Please join me in congratulating Dan Levitan, our 2025 Distinguished Alumnus.

Remarks by Dan Levitan PT ’75

Good morning—to my new fellow alums; to the faculty, the board, the staff; and to our distinguished guests.

It’s an honor to be here. If I seem a bit nervous, please keep in mind that the experience of a piano technician is generally, the better you do your job, the less people notice you; so when I see everyone in this room looking at me, of course my instinctive reaction is that something must be horribly wrong.

��I’m glad, though, for this opportunity to express my gratitude to you, for having made me realize just how much this remarkable institution means to me, and how deeply it has become a part of who I am since my own graduation with the Class of 1975—nearly a hundred years after our founding.

Back then, in 1881, the North End was filled with refugees, driven from the Old World by deteriorating conditions there. So many had arrived here that conditions in the North End were deteriorating, too; to the point that some of the good citizens of Boston took it upon themselves to lend a helping hand. They tried various approaches—doling out charity, advocating for equality in city services—but soon began to focus on enabling North Enders to improve conditions here themselves, by giving them access to knowledge.

Epistemologists identify two kinds of knowledge: knowledge that, and knowledge how. Our founders realized that central to their mission of helping North Enders help themselves was imparting to them knowledge how—teaching them the skills that would enable them to find steady hand work. And that’s how we became America’s first trade school.

It seems quaint today, but our founders considered part of our school’s educational mission to be imparting virtues—like cleanliness, orderliness, and punctuality—that they believed were fundamental both to personal happiness and to strong, healthy communities.

Our original building, at 39 North Bennet Street, happened to be next door to the place we’re sitting now, the Old North Church—famously, the church from whose spire two lanterns shone 250 years ago, warning the citizenry that the enemy were on the move. The lantern in our school’s seal brings them to mind; but our founders would probably have thought of our lantern less as a beacon of warning than as a beacon of hope, like the lantern in a lighthouse, or the Statue of Liberty’s torch—a light guiding people to a safe haven.

Ironically, I followed that beacon to the North End looking, not for knowledge how; but for knowledge that. Learning that had always been my strong suit; and since I was, as a result, pretty good at taking tests, I had been drifting more or less passively towards a “Life of the Mind”. Then, halfway through college, I had met someone who had graduated the year before from our piano technology program. At that point, the piano was an important part of my life, so I was captivated by the notion of learning more about it; and what better way, I thought, than to take a year off and go to that school on North Bennet Street?

Arrived in the North End, I discovered that learning about pianos and piano technology was easy—all you had to do was pay attention to Bill Garlick’s lectures, and read every book in the library. Most of our time, though, was spent learning how to work on pianos; which I discovered wasn’t quite so easy. That felt, that glue, those strings, those unisons—They just wouldn’t behave the way I wanted them to. The results were plain for anyone to see: My damper felts weren’t cleanly cut; my glue got into places it didn’t belong; my tuning pin coils weren’t tight; my unisons, unstable.

However, I was coming into close, daily contact with people for whom those things were behaving. Those were the ones among us whose strong suit was learning how. My work improved considerably when I began to use my hands and the implements in them like those people were instinctively using theirs—not just as tools, to manipulate the things we were working with; but also as sensors, to learn about the nature of those things enough to get them to behave by allowing them to behave the way they wanted to behave anyway.

Of course, none of us, not even Bill, knew everything there was to know about the world we working in. Even for him, failure was always possible, and usually unpredictable.

Now, I doubt that Bill considered instilling virtues in his students to be part of his mission in training us in piano work. However, the fundamentally unknowable, and therefore capriciously arbitrary, nature of the world we were working in every day was doing just that: It was encouraging us to be humble; to forgive, both ourselves and others; and to react to inevitable setbacks with a sense of humor—to learn, in other words, some of the virtues that are fundamental both to personal happiness, and to strong, healthy communities.

Okay, here comes the part of my speech in which I fulfill my contractual obligation to give our new crop of grads a bit of advice:

In my fifty years of living a “Life of the Hand”, I have observed that the people who are most likely to become masters of my craft aren’t necessarily the ones who naturally love their work: The ones who, because their strong suit is learning how, are kept at their benches by the pleasure they take in the act of shaping their materials with their hands and tools. Instead, it’s the ones who are driven by a different kind of emotion, closer to hate—a kind of irritation, born of the frustration that things aren’t the way they’re supposed to be, that impels them to return to their benches over and over again until they can’t improve their work any more.

��I learned early on that no such instinctive impulse drove my piano work: I could force myself to return again and again to the bench, but only so many times. There were, though, aspects of my craft that I found myself returning to over and over again, irritated that they weren’t they way they were supposed to be, until I had managed to improve them to the extent I was able. Those aspects of my craft were the gaps in our understanding of it. The satisfaction I felt when I found a way to close one of those gaps was rewarding in a qualitatively deeper way than the satisfaction I felt when I had finished working on a piano—especially once I had found a way to articulate my thoughts, so that I could share what I had done with my colleagues.

From a financial standpoint, that wasn’t the best use of my time. However, because I had found a way to advance my craft that gave me deep satisfaction, I now have an abiding love for it.

My advice to you today, then, isn’t the standard advice: to do work that you love. Instead, it’s to notice an aspect of your work that you are impelled to improve. The feeling of satisfaction you’ll get when you succeed at doing that will keep you coming back for more, so that you’ll getter better and better at what you’re doing; and that will make you love your work.

I’ll close now by observing that the world you’re entering as you leave North Bennet Street today is very different from the one my class entered 50 years ago, at the dawn of the Information Age. As all of us are now spending increasingly more time in virtual worlds, untethered from the implacable reality of the real world; it’s becoming clear that those worlds, as currently constructed, are encouraging us to be, not humble, but vain; not to forgive, but to take umbrage and revenge; to react to inevitable setbacks, not with the kind of laughter that recognizes the fundamental absurdity of the human condition, but with the kind of laughter that dominates and diminishes others through ridicule.

In a word: Conditions are deteriorating rapidly. The enemy are on the move.

We see the consequences every day in the steady stream of refugees from that toxic online environment who arrive at North Bennet Street searching for a way to live that nourishes, rather than degrades, their essential humanity. In that sense, the lantern in our seal is still a beacon of hope, guiding people to a safe haven.

However, I have come to think of our lantern in another way as well: As a lamp in a medieval monastery, where monks are preserving knowledge that for future generations by laboriously copying books by hand. That’s not because monks are in the habit of taking vows of poverty—though in a world awash in cash that seems to have no sensible origin, you may sometimes feel that in choosing to practice a craft you, too, have taken a vow of poverty. Rather, it’s because by transmitting the knowledge how of traditional crafts to our students, we are bringing them into contact with the world in the most direct way possible; and in that way, preserving for future generations a way of being in the world that encourages the best in us.

Thank you, Dan. We’re so fortunate and proud to have you in our community. The Award is well deserved.��

Each year, as part of graduation, we look for a commencement speaker who can help us see the wider world our work fits into—someone who embodies values like service, community, and meaningful work.

This year, I am so pleased to introduce Corey J. Allen, a leader, educator, and advocate who brings those very qualities to his work every day.

Corey is the inaugural Director of Industry Partnerships at the . In that role, he builds bridges between education and career—helping students across Boston see pathways into meaningful work.

His work is about building futures. That feels very familiar to us at North Bennet. Because that’s what we do too—just with different tools. Corey helps students understand their potential, and equips them to realize it through real-world connections, learning opportunities, and confidence-building experiences.

Before Boston Plan for Excellence, Corey led workforce development efforts at the Urban League of Eastern Massachusetts, and he’s had a hand in shaping initiatives across the city that focus on access and opportunity.

He understands what it means to serve others by helping them build—not just a job, but a career. Not just skills, but belief in themselves. That mindset of growth and service is exactly what we hope our graduates carry forward.

I can’t think of a better person to reflect with you on what it means to build a life, to navigate transition, and to carry your knowledge and skills with confidence and purpose.
Please join me in welcoming our 2025 Commencement Speaker, Corey J. Allen.

Good morning, North Bennet Street School soon to be graduates and families, current students, faculty, staff and honored guests.

In my brief remarks, I will be sharing quotes from religious as well as secular sources. I am a deeply spiritual man, and am not here to convert anyone, but seeing as we are in this historical House of Prayer, I shall reference relative themes, and hope you take them as I intend, to understand better who I am, where I am from, and how I have seen the world thus far.��

“From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked.” – Luke 12:48

I stand before you today as a journeyperson, of sorts. I have been many things in my life, but ultimately, I have been of service to mankind, in my own small way. I have been a camp counselor, youth organizer, landscaping entrepreneur, journalist, an Executive Director, English Teacher, Candidate for State Representative, Copy Editor, Dean of Discipline, Community Liaison. In all of these positions, I’d like to think, I made the world a little better.
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The concept of “doing my part” was born from me asking my dad why Amelia Frances Hodges Harris, affectionately known as “Grandma Harris” had a different last name from us. My dad explained that he was a foster child, and that Grandma and Grampa Harris, ne’�� Phillip Harris, Sr., took him and 21 other children into their home at 33 Waumbeck Street in Roxbury, because for one reason or another, their families were unable to give them the care they needed.

Grandpa Harris was a custodian for the Stride Rite Corporation at the intersection of Melnea Cass Boulevard and Harrison Avenue for about 35 years. Grandma Harris, one of the first ostomy patients in the world, was tending to the family home when she was not in the hospital or traveling around the country giving testimony as a cancer survivor and trailblazer in life saving healthcare technology.��
Now I will share how each of the specialties that you all have been trained in, have played a role in my life and understanding of the world.

Locksmithing & Security Technology

“My people will abide in a peaceful habitation, in secure dwellings, and in quiet resting places.” – Isaiah 32:18

When I was ten, I played in the Reagan Youth Baseball League out of Jamaica Plain. One day after practice, I went to work with my dad, as he had left early to come coach us.

At that time, he worked for Gillette on the 48^th floor of the Prudential.�� He started with Gillette a month before I was born in South Boston on the factory floor but worked his way into the glass tower. The first thing that struck me walking through the concourse was my dad greeting the trades workers and security guards on our way to the old�� Food Court. I asked him how he knew all of these people – that’s when he explained that his father worked as a custodian to ensure that all his mom, sisters and brothers all had a roof over their heads. All of these people, he said, represented my grandfather, so showed them the same respect he would show his own father.��

Once we saluted the guard and walked past the tower security desk, my dad used his badge to activate the elevator and upon exiting, to enter his office space. I was fascinated by the concept of digital security, the key card granting us access to otherwise unreachable destinations. That was when I became intrigued by the fine trade of locksmithing and security technology. Some of you will be installing an alarm system for a store owner who works long hours to support their family, some will open a safe that has not seen daylight in decades, but contains heirlooms and secrets that will surely bring someone to tears. Keep that �Ļ�ӰԺ pride in all of your works.

Bookbinding

“Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom: and with all thy getting, get understanding. “- Proverbs, 4:7

I attended the James J. Chittick Elementary School in Mattapan. Before I enrolled, my mom volunteered in the library. While she was reading to students, I would be off looking at picture books, trying to sound out words that were beyond my comprehension. I remember the feeling of flipping those pages hoping one day to know all of the things these books held. My love for knowledge and being of are big reasons that I became an English teacher. One of my favorite books to teach was Their Eyes Were Watching God. It was during that unit that I had a breakthrough with a former student of mine, Ramon Guerrero.

He was a proud, wise young man. Surely, the new English intern would not best him.�� One day in mid-fall, Ramon wanted to bend the classroom rules and use his headphones while working on an assignment. He said if he couldn’t use them, he would leave the class. I told him to have a good day, as the other 21 students were working or seeking help, and I could not go over with him why he could not use the headphones. In short, on a day Ramon was on a field trip, I got into hot water with the Boston Public Schools Superintendent Mary Skipper, then principal Skipper, for allowing students to use their headphones!

Fast forward to the spring and I began to use the student-teacher model that Paolo Freire discusses in his book, Pedagogy of the Oppressed, where students should be led to pursue subject mastery, and be able to teach each other as well as learn from their teachers.�� I modeled reading chapters ahead of time, finding vocabulary words, key concepts,�� and potential test and quiz questions for the first two semesters. In early spring, I assigned students a rotating opportunity to lead the class for a day. Some of them were shy, but Ramon held during his first presentation. He found me during a break from teaching and requested to lead the class again before everyone else had a turn. It was a proud moment, working with him through hard times to being one of the best students I have ever had.

Those of you who have taken up bookbinding you will mend a 19^th century rare book that needs some TLC, package a world where new born babies will see pictures and words together for the first time, an elementary student will write their first book report from and the next generation’s Ramon or Ramona will go to their teacher with a book you bound, in hand, and profess their love for literature and desire to be a better student.

Woodworking: Preservation, Cabinet & Furniture Making, and Carpentry

“Every moment I shape my destiny with a chisel – I am the carpenter of my own soul.” – Rumi

Although my dad received his MBA from Suffolk University, he learned from the Harris School of Woodworking on Waumbeck Street how to be a carpenter. Later, he would buy books and be an avid viewer of This Old House and New Yankee Workshop on Boston’s Channels 2 and 44. In the day of old where one TV was a luxury, our floor model television in the living room was it. My brothers and I would often lay on the floor or sit next to our dad and watch these pre-trendy DIY television shows, and wherever we could, work with my dad on his projects around the house and if he decided to take on a job making a bureau or desk for a co-worker or one of their family members, we would tag along and help as much as we could. Those were some of the best days of my life.��

For those of you set to walk across the stage with your hammer, chisel, lathe and saw,�� whether you are creating a chair that will be rested upon to nurse a baby in the year 2325, or replacing a worn banister leading up to a grand landing in a 18^th century Georgian home, making a cabinet that will hold a family’s fine Crystal set in its 5^th generation in a brand new home that was built by a classmate of yours, know that the work that you will be doing in the coming years will pay homage to our past, provide a respite for the present, and in the future, will be revered for the craftwork and love that you put into it.

Piano Technology and Violin Making & Repair

“Where words fail, music speaks.” – Hans Christian Andersen

One of my favorite leisure activities is going to see live musical shows, plays and as a treat, the symphony. Whenever I get the opportunity and it fits within my budget, I go someplace where I know strings will be pulled, keys will be tapped. Free shows are even better, but because of how much joy I get, whether on the subway, coming out of Fenway, or on the commons of a local town, I put something in the till. It is my sincere hope, that those of you graduating from the Piano Technology and Violin Making and Repair program realize that the words that people will be unable to find for the next 500 years, the instruments that you will manufacture, repair, refurbish and preserve will be used to communicate those unspoken words and know that the world will be a better place because of it.��

Jewelry Making & Repair

“Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn again and rend you.” – Matthew 7:6

I love jewelry, even though I mostly wear just a watch. I enjoy seeing how people choose to portray their feelings. One of my favorite examples of this is Margaret Thatcher, who based on her mood and tone of the meeting, would wear a brooch that would set the tone. In that same vein, vintage jewelry that has been passed down through a family or sold through various channels need to be properly cleaned, repaired so that these pieces can maintain their form, shape and function for years to come. Whether you are commissioned to create new pieces, or you will be repairing or restoring historical pieces, the way that people express themselves or pass down wealth will be in your hands. As you are set to cross the stage, remember the days and nights you spent here at North Bennet Street and think of the generations that your creations and projects will impact and always give your clients the best possible outcome.��

In conclusion, the late great Keith Love—my first boss in education and former marine, who took me under his wing when earning my one-year master’s in education became difficult had a ton of sayings, but my favorite, is what I leave with you “Respect the individual, respect the process, deliver what you promise.” In your respective fields, you all are of service to mankind. You will make the world a better place. You will create and mend and tune and mentor—but in your chosen path, through the nation’s first trade school, you will change this world. Congratulations on your graduation and enjoy this next chapter on your journey.

From longstanding remarks given by former �Ļ�ӰԺ Associate Director, Walter McDonald.

We may be almost finished here, but it’s far from over.

There’s a lot more to do. There will be mistakes from which you will learn. There will be customers you hope never to see again. New methods, equipment, and materials will change the way you work. You will get better and faster.

If you don’t get it right, you have a chance to do it better the next time.

There will be wonderful customers for whom you will do work over your entire career, and they will recommend you to their friends, and they will become your friends because of your work.

There will be a time when you finish a job, look at it and realize that a short time ago you could not have done it, and you would not have even known where to start. And you will realize how far you’ve come.

So in closing: May your tools stay sharp. May your work be scheduled a year in advance. May your customers always be satisfied, pay in a timely manner, and without argument.

You have skills and knowledge that few people share. You can use these skills to make life better for others. You can be justifiably proud of jobs well-done.

Now we’re finished here. It’s time for you to go out there and do great work.