The Measure of a School

In the early years, a Tabor Academy graduating class could fit around a dinner table—and not a particularly large one. In 1880, Tabor awarded five diplomas, all to young women. The following year, all three graduates hailed from a single family.

Tabor opened in the fall of 1877 with 23 students, two teachers, and ambitions that far exceeded its size. From the outset, the school aspired to be a leading coeducational preparatory academy with reach beyond Marion.

“Girls will be fitted for Vassar, Wellesley, and similar institutions,” the first Catalog declared, “and boys prepared for Yale, Harvard, and other colleges.”

The challenge was not vision, but enrollment. The school was built to accommodate 100 students, yet for the duration of founder Elizabeth Taber’s lifetime, attendance remained stubbornly low, never exceeding the mid-thirties. At a time when relatively few young people pursued advanced schooling at all, attracting students who were academically prepared—and able to pay tuition—proved difficult.

Tuition was initially set at $8 per term. Tabor’s small attendance, the New Bedford Evening Standard observed in August 1880, “secures for each pupil more individual attention and the possibility of more rapid progress than in a larger school.” The remark cast intimacy as an advantage, but it also hinted at a reality the school could not ignore.

Small numbers did not signal small ambition. Mrs. Taber and Principal Clark P. Howland thought carefully about access, standards, and how to widen the school’s appeal. In 1885, they announced a significant change: Tuition would be free for Marion students who “met the requisite qualifications for entering,” while fees for non-residents would be reduced to $5 per term.

“A knowledge of the essentials of Arithmetic, Grammar and Geography will be required of those who enter from Marion. Others will be admitted at the direction of the Principal,” the announcement stated. “Notwithstanding this change in policy, and notwithstanding the small number of pupils, no expense will be spared to make Tabor Academy a thoroughly good school.” The shift reflected both generosity and pragmatism—an effort to fill seats while maintaining standards.

Admissions expectations remained demanding for the era. Applicants were expected to demonstrate solid preparation across core subjects, and, just as importantly, character. “Students who wish to enter the Academy are required to furnish testimonials that they sustain a good moral character,” the 1889–1890 Catalog noted. “The school is not a suitable one for those who are wayward, idle, or averse to study.”

To broaden its reach, Tabor advertised widely from its earliest years—not only locally, but regionally and beyond. Newspaper notices emphasized both academic rigor and setting. “Location Beautiful and Healthful,” one announcement proclaimed, echoing a common belief that seaside air offered protection from the communicable diseases that plagued denser cities. Others promised an education that “prepares boys and girls for any College or Scientific School.”

Gradually, the messaging gained traction. By 1889, a year after Mrs. Taber’s death, enrollment rose to 67 students—a notable jump after years of stagnation. An 1890 addition to the original building expanded its capacity, and when classes opened in the fall of 1891, 116 students arrived on campus. The following spring, Tabor awarded 20 diplomas to its largest graduating class to date.

The surge suggested momentum at last. Yet it would not be sustained for long. Over the next two decades, forces well beyond the school’s control would test Tabor’s ability to attract—and retain—students.

A School on the Brink

The turn of the century brought economic uncertainty and social change. A series of financial shocks—culminating in the Panic of 1907—forced families to reconsider private education. At the same time, compulsory education laws reshaped the national landscape. By 1918, every state had passed school attendance legislation, and the growth of public high schools absorbed a larger share of the nation’s youth.

By 1915, Tabor’s enrollment had fallen to less than a dozen students. The situation grew so dire that the trustees entered into a contract with the Town of Marion to transfer control of the Academy and convert it into the town’s public high school.

“Fortunately,” Walter H. Lillard wrote years later, “there was a cancelling provision” in the contract. Less than a month before the transfer was set to proceed, the trustees hired Lillard as Tabor’s fifth headmaster.

Arriving in 1916, Lillard embarked on what he later described as “the launching of a new school on an old foundation.” He moved quickly to reorganize the institution. First, he embraced Marion’s waterfront as the cornerstone of Tabor’s identity. Second, Lillard discontinued the girls boarding program in order to reduce expenses and compete with the nation’s most elite boarding schools, which were predominantly single-sex.

A separate division, the Girls’ School of Tabor Academy, continued to operate as a preparatory day school for Marion residents.

Under Lillard’s leadership, the boys school sharpened its mission and regained its footing. In his first year as headmaster, 43 boys were enrolled, but only nine were tuition-paying boarders. One of Lillard’s central goals was to expand enrollment beyond New England to a national, and eventually international, constituency. Lillard’s ambitions extended beyond recruitment. In 1919, he accompanied Tabor students to France on the school’s first international travel program—a modest beginning to what would become a signature feature of a Tabor education and a lasting belief in the value of cultural exchange.

That outward-looking vision was paired with a carefully articulated message at home. “Tabor Academy on Buzzards Bay—The School of Balanced Education,” ran a 1918 advertisement. “The trustees believe that the mind of a growing boy should not be developed at the expense of his body,” it continued, highlighting athletics, camping trips, and cruises in a landlocked harbor. That year, tuition—including room, board, and 24 pieces of weekly laundry—totaled $700.

Selectivity became part of the school’s identity as well. “Accepting only a limited number of students,” the advertisement concluded, “we are able to interest ourselves in every detail of the boy’s career.” The marketing proved effective. When school opened in September 1925, Tabor welcomed 111 boys—an increase of 30 from the previous year. While most came from Massachusetts, others arrived from as far away as Oregon and California, as well as Canada and Mexico.

The May 1926 issue of The Log celebrated Tabor’s 50th anniversary and reflected on the achievements of Lillard’s first decade. “Tabor has been, and continues to be, quite a cosmopolitan school,” the student newspaper observed, “having had students from India, Costa Rica, China, Russia, Siam, and Mexico.”

Growth soon reshaped the campus itself. Lillard Hall, the Tudor-Revival dormitory overlooking the water, opened in 1926. “This year marks the beginning of a new era for our school,” a Log writer proudly declared. “No longer will Tabor be a small school which is not generally known.”

One longstanding challenge, however, remained unresolved. The provision in Elizabeth Taber’s will guaranteeing free tuition for Marion students—well-intentioned in an earlier era—had placed increasing strain on the school’s finances as enrollment grew. In 1928, after years of negotiation and a case that reached the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court, the trustees secured permission to replace free tuition with capped scholarships, easing pressure on the endowment and stabilizing the school for the future.

The 1929–1930 academic year opened with 170 students representing 18 states and seven countries. It was a high-water mark—one that reflected the success of Lillard’s reinvention, even as new challenges loomed on the horizon.

Through Choppy Seas

The Great Depression and the gathering clouds of World War II ushered in another turbulent chapter. By 1933, the school’s population had fallen to 107. In a 1934 letter to alumni, Lillard sought to steady nerves—and enlist help.

“We have been cruising in stormy weather successfully for three years, making good headway in spite of adverse winds and occasional howling gales,” he wrote. “The good ship Tabor has held her course truly.”
Striking a characteristically nautical tone, the captain issued marching orders to alumni. “Try to send at least one good recruit to Tabor,” he urged. “With this kind of support you will have a real share in making the future secure.”
As global tensions mounted, Lillard once again guided the school through uncertainty.
While Tabor had long embraced structure and discipline within its nautical programs, it was never a military academy. Still, the realities of a nation readying itself for war shaped campus life.

In 1940, the school introduced a national preparedness program that included military drilling, a response to the newly instituted peacetime draft and the likelihood of U.S. involvement overseas.

Because of its established nautical curriculum and preparedness training, Tabor was designated an Honor Naval School in November 1941, granting it the rare privilege of nominating students to military academies without congressional sponsorship. The distinction reinforced the school’s nautical identity, even as it contributed to the enduring misconception that Tabor was a military school.

In 1942, Lillard retired from Tabor and returned to active duty in the United States Army. His successor, James W. Wickenden, assumed the helm at a moment of global upheaval with a mandate to preserve stability and guide future growth.

Under Wickenden’s able leadership, the school grew steadily in the postwar years. By 1951, enrollment reached 254 students. Rising tuition revenue supported new programs and the continued expansion of campus.

When Wickenden announced his intention to retire in 1976, coinciding with Tabor’s centennial, he reflected on the scale of change he had overseen. “In 1942, we had six buildings and 23 acres,” he wrote. “We now have 40 buildings and 78 acres.” At the time of his letter, Tabor enrolled 466 students—80% boarders—a far cry from the 129 pupils he encountered in his first year.

The decades after World War II were marked by stability and a steady rise in enrollment through the 1960s. But the cultural upheavals that followed—the Vietnam War, political assassinations, and widespread skepticism toward authority—reshaped expectations of schools and the families they served. Like many institutions, Tabor was not immune to these shifts.

Professionalizing Admissions

Through Wickenden’s long headship, admissions practices remained largely traditional. Candidates were evaluated on entrance examinations, school records, character, and a personal interview with a senior administrator. Growth during these years flowed more from reputation than from deliberate recruitment.

By the early 1970s, however, new pressures were emerging. Demographic change, rising costs, and intensifying competition across independent schools demanded a more intentional approach.

At Tabor, these forces coincided with the expansion of a post-graduate (PG) population—many of them day students with a strong athletic focus. While the program bolstered teams and visibility, it also blurred the school’s identity as a four-year preparatory institution. During this period, the designation of “four-year student” took on heightened symbolic importance, earning special recognition in the yearbook.

The arrival of Headmaster Peter Webster in 1976 marked a new chapter. One of his early moves was to formalize what had long been an informal admissions process. A dedicated admissions office replaced a single gatekeeper, which led to clearer policies, shared responsibility, and a broader evaluation that included recommendations and personal essays.

The admissions experience itself became more intentional. “For the first time in Tabor history, a well-organized student tour guide service was formed, enabling applicants to see a more realistic side of the school,” the Fore ’N’ Aft recorded in 1978. At the same time, a vigorous recruitment program took shape. Admissions officers traveled to more than 100 schools annually, fueling a sharp rise in applications.

Webster’s tenure also brought a consequential institutional shift: the reintroduction of coeducation. “Trustees Vote in Favor of Coeducation,” proclaimed the front page of The Log in February 1979.

Although the decision restored a coeducational tradition dating back to the school’s founding, it required adjustment across campus. Girls initially returned as day students and were accepted back as boarders in 1982. Facilities expanded, programs evolved, and admissions grew increasingly selective as the school worked to rebalance enrollment and campus life.

By the mid-1980s, marketing had become an essential part of the admissions strategy. Open houses drew visitors to campus, admissions officers traveled widely, and alumni and parents were enlisted as ambassadors—what a 1989 Tabor Today article called “the long arm of the admissions office.”

The results were clear. In 1985, Tabor received a record 530 applications for 165 openings, primarily in the ninth grade. The following year, applications rose another nine percent.

Around the same time, the post-graduate program was phased out. “Webster saw a need to realign Tabor’s reputation from an all-boys ‘jock’ school to a co-educational institution comparable to the best,” The Log reported in 1986. Once again, admissions policy served as a tool for clarifying what the school was—and what it hoped to become.

Maintaining an Even Keel

As the school approached the turn of the millennium, enrollment rose and fell in response to broader economic forces. Periods of growth alternated with retrenchment, reinforcing a familiar lesson: Size alone could not define success. Admissions decisions increasingly reflected a search for balance—between demand and capacity, ambition and sustainability.

That equilibrium characterized much of Jay Stroud’s tenure as headmaster from 1988 to 2012. Enrollment hovered around 500 students for more than two decades, a period of relative stability that allowed the school to consolidate earlier changes while focusing on program quality, community life, and long- range planning rather than sheer expansion.

“It is important that Tabor leaders understand the academy’s strengths and weaknesses,” concluded a 2012 report from the Long Range Planning Committee. “Perhaps Tabor’s greatest strength is its sense of community … This kind of positive atmosphere is unique, and we must always work to intentionally improve on that strength.”

Rising tuition posed—and continues to pose—one of the school’s most persistent challenges. Over time, financial aid moved from the margins to the center of admissions strategy, reflecting a broader effort to sustain access while supporting an ambitious academic, residential, and co-curricular program.

Today’s admissions process bears little resemblance to the one overseen by Elizabeth Taber and Clark Howland—or even by James Wickenden. Yet the underlying questions remain strikingly familiar. How large should the school be? Who should it serve? And how can it preserve the intimacy that once allowed a graduating class to gather around a single table?

“School leadership and governance understand the incredibly important role admissions plays at Tabor,” says Head of School Tony Jaccaci. “Our current strategic plan focuses on enrollment and ways to ensure Tabor is a highly sought institution in the face of declining demographics and rising tuition levels. We have a rigorous and challenging curriculum, so it is not for every student, but for those for whom the program is a good fit, we try to make a Tabor education as widely accessible as possible.”

Over 150 years, the school’s population has expanded and contracted, sometimes dramatically in response to periods of social upheaval. Each shift has left its imprint on the campus, the curriculum, and the culture. What has endured is the understanding that enrollment is never merely a number. It is a measure of trust, aspiration, and the school’s ability to adapt without losing its center.

From a handful of students in a single school building to a community shaped by choice and intention, Tabor’s story is one of constant evolution—guided by the belief that who the school enrolls ultimately defines what it becomes.