Back from brink, tech school thrives

Benjamin Franklin's gift to Boston is turning 100

Students study pharmacy, one of the 13 technical degrees offered by the institute. (David L. Ryan/ Globe Staff)

When Stephen Lozen arrived at the Ben Franklin Institute of Technology, he was there to fulfill an unenviable task - to shut it down.

For years, the small South End college had been on the verge of financial collapse, and in 2003, trustees finally voted to close. Lozen, a retired businessman, was hired to oversee the process.

He still remembers his impressions on his first day at the school: how committed the students were to being there, and how unique it was as a two-year technical school in the heart of the city.

"Within four hours, I was convinced it needed to stay open," Lozen recalled recently. "So I got up early the next morning and wrote a three-page letter, outlining what needed to be done to make that happen."

At the same time, several parents of Franklin students were lobbying city and state officials to keep the school open. The school's trustees, weighing the combination of this outcry, Lozen's proposal, and the $500,000 they'd just received in anonymous donations, reversed their decision.

Five years later, an institute created by a bequest in Benjamin Franklin's will is thriving. In fact, this year marks its 100th birthday.

"We have people here who believe in everything that's happening and who want to make sure this place makes it," said Lozen, who now serves as the school's interim president.

That's crucial, Lozen said, because there's a lot happening.

For one, the school's enrollment has almost doubled from five years ago. There are 534 students now pursuing 13 technical degrees, two of which - opticianry and pharmacy technology - have been added in the last three years. The graduation rate has increased to 52 percent, with many graduates landing positions at NStar, Verizon, CVS, and other companies that have partnered with Franklin in classroom and internship programs. Dozens more, Lozen said, are now going on to finish four-year degree programs at other schools.

The small size of the student body, said Paul Zarbo, dean of academic affairs, allows for a strong commitment to students' needs, in the classroom and beyond.

Zarbo pointed to a new program at the school, called Save Our Students. As part of their regular workload, Franklin faculty and staff members also work as advisers to one or more students. If a student is falling behind in a class, a teacher can contact the student's adviser, who will try to find out whether it's because of an academic or personal matter. Then, together with the student, they'll try to resolve the problem. "We've realized that students come to us with complicated lives," said Zarbo. "We're focused now on the student in a fundamental way."

Although Franklin's enrollment figures continue to climb, and the school has gained some foundation and grant money, including $150,000 from the National Science Foundation, Lozen said the school's finances continue to present challenges. Many students come from Boston's lower-income neighborhoods; 80 percent require financial aid. The school offers scholarships to some, to spare them the full weight of student loans.

"It's expensive to make that happen," said Lozen. "But it's no good for society if you have students who want to continue their education but can't for lack of funds."

Just as it has since it opened in 1908, the school occupies five floors of an elegant brick-faced building at Berkeley, Appleton, and Tremont streets. Inside, there is an eclectic mix of activities. In the basement, auto students work on vehicles old and new. Upstairs, one room serves as an eyeglass shop at which students fill the prescriptions of city residents at a deep discount. Off in another wing, architecture students work with design software programs. In all classes, students and teachers look as though they're in more of a huddle than a lecture, circling around an engine or piece of medical equipment to see, up close, what they're studying.

At its core, said Kathleen Lynch, Franklin's dean of institutional advancement, the school remains true to the wishes of its benefactor. When Franklin died, he left his hometown of Boston 1,000 pounds. He wanted it invested for a century and then used to provide young men and women apprentice work, like his own in his brother James's print shop.

In much the spirit of its founder, said Lynch, today's "students are doers . . . expanding their options and opening up opportunities."