By The Keystone Newspaper Do the memories of the students who called Lytle their home deserve to be forgotten?
By Grant Rambo
I am a professional writing major in my senior year here at KU. For the last six semesters I have called this campus home. Throughout that time, starting all the way back in 2021, I have made strolls (or more accurately hurried speed-walks) from my dorm to the place where English, professional writing, history, and math majors call home more times than I can possibly hope to recall.
Lytle Hall, the neat square-shaped education building sitting furthest away from South Campus’ dormitories, and resting beautifully in the middle of two well-maintained lawns has become synonymous with my mental images of KU, professors, and academia as a whole. From the tight halls, to the cramped professor’s offices, I have made plenty of memories in that place. In fact, one could argue that my COMP 100 course alone has taken the helm of my life and steered the ship of my career toward the direction it is today. It was Lytle Hall which served as the setting where I would eventually meet my first PW academic advisor, Professor Voccola. It was Lytle Hall where I met the one responsible for my ambitions taking the shape they did, Dr. Cory Thomas Hutcheson. It was Lytle Hall where I spent the most time studying over the course of my academic career.
It is no secret that Lytle Hall has faced some unsavory developments over the years. In my personal experience, I have witnessed the spring assault of wasps in room 228. Back when I was a junior, I saw the concerns rising over potential threats posed by radon exposure. One of my courses regretfully had to relocate to the Academic Forum due to Lytle’s rooms being much too small to accommodate the number of students in the class.
This year, I have now found my collection of professional writing and English courses taking me across the campus. Just one of my courses remains in Lytle, while the other four are scattered about. Two of my classes are held in Beekey, the education building. One class is in Old Main, home to the iconic clock tower that some mistake for a gigantic chicken head glaring down upon them. One class even finds itself in Boehm, the science building. It is quite evident that Lytle Hall is slowly finding itself phased out in favor of the more spacious and accommodating rooms of its fellow buildings.
Yet a part of me cannot help but feel as if a portion of my KU’s soul is being left behind. In my time as a student here on campus, I have seen DeFrancesco receive renovations. (Which I must concede are quite impressive.) I have seen the completion of the Wells-Rapp percussion building. And at this moment, the new Admissions Welcome Center is currently under construction. One cannot blame me for feeling personally slighted at the scene taking place; while KU continues to grow and expand and renovate, poor Lytle Hall is being slowly abandoned.
Indeed, a part of KU’s soul is being left behind.
Now, there are plenty of valid reasons why students, professors, and other faculty and staff may consider the current course of action a good solution. But the questions still remain; “Can we do something to help Lytle Hall? Can a compromise be made? Does Lytle Hall need to be abandoned? Does Lytle Hall deserve to face a similar fate as the Johnson Hall dormitory?”
I will not oppose anyone who opts to leave Lytle, nor will I argue with them. I have learned many things regarding Lytle’s past, and some of it is quite unpleasant to say the least. But abandonment? Really? Is that the best course of action in the long-term? Can nothing be done? Can’t a club, or some other student-oriented group call Lytle theirs? Can some KU or KU-affiliated organization keep Lytle Hall in operation once the inevitable move-out of all classes and staff is completed?
Honestly, I do not have the answers. I know there are those vocal about leaving Lytle behind. They have the right to campaign against it. But while time moves ever forward, and KU continues to adapt to the new challenges to come, is it wise to let dust fill Lytle’s halls, and for time to erode each of its bricks, windows, and vents? Do the memories and academic progress of the students who called Lytle their own deserve to be forgotten? I ask this, because I owe my career to Lytle Hall and its staff. I owe Lytle Hall my sense of direction. And above all, I owe Lytle Hall my loyalty.
Who knows? Maybe Lytle Hall will be left for time to consume. Or perhaps it will become a barely-run building with a skeleton crew of intrepid students and stalwart professors. A potential bastion preserving the memory of Lytle and every single class taught within it over the years.
I do not know. For all I know, by the time I graduate, Lytle Hall will be left behind to stand as a monument like Johnson Hall. Or maybe it will be demolished. Or maybe, just maybe, Lytle Hall will remain in operation, if only enough, for students to enter it and make use of the classrooms that have seen thousands of students receive their education at this wonderful university.
All I can say is this: if just one student can say they have found their purpose, or even just their passion, then I believe Lytle Hall has not only fulfilled its duties as an educational facility, but it also earned the right to remain in operation even if for the sake of remembering something that deserves to be remembered.
But who knows, maybe I myself am merely an over-sentimental student?
I’ll let you be the judge of that.