Student Report Prompts High School to Strip Principal’s Name from Theatre

Sage Gilliland (Photo: Daily Herald)

by Chris Peterson

Last month, a story out of Mount Prospect, Illinois caught my eye. Not because of the production onstage, but because of the name above the stage.

For decades, Prospect High School’s theater bore the name of its founding principal, Alvin Kulieke. On the surface, it seemed like a fitting honor. Kulieke opened the school in 1957 and led it through its formative years. But thanks to one student journalist, that honor was called into question and ultimately removed.

Then Sophomore Sage Gilliland, writing for The Prospector, dug into Kulieke’s past and found ties to the Urantia movement and eugenics-based educational materials. These were not harmless eccentricities. They included justifications for slavery, race-based intelligence comparisons, and statements about “subnormal” men being controlled by society. Gilliland’s reporting was meticulous, courageous, and deeply personal. As a neurodivergent student and a theater performer, she asked the question plainly: How can I feel safe on a stage that honors someone who would have disrespected my very existence?

The school board listened. In July, after months of review and a new district policy making honorary namings subject to reconsideration, Prospect’s leaders voted unanimously to remove Kulieke’s name. The space is now simply the Prospect Theatre. The portrait remains in a historical display, but the marquee no longer bears the name.

What stands out here is not just the decision itself, but the process. A student journalist sparked change, an administration took it seriously, and a school board responded decisively. At every step, young people were heard. That matters.

In theatre, we often talk about spaces as sacred. Black boxes, prosceniums, rehearsal halls. They are more than buildings. They are places where students shed inhibitions, test ideas, and explore who they are. When a name on the wall feels like it contradicts those values, it casts a shadow. Removing it is not about erasing history. It is about ensuring that the present—the students stepping onto that stage today—feel seen, welcomed, and safe.

And let us be clear: this is not about being “woke.” That word has been twisted into a political weapon, wielded to shut down conversations about progress. What happened at Prospect High was not performative or partisan. It was practical. It was the recognition that honoring someone who publicly aligned with racist pseudoscience sends the wrong message to today’s students. Respecting history does not mean sanctifying every aspect of it. You can acknowledge that someone played a role in building an institution without celebrating beliefs that actively harm the students inside it.

When critics dismiss actions like this as “cancel culture,” they miss the point. This is not cancellation. This is discernment. A theater is not just drywall and seating; it is a stage for self-discovery. Students of color, LGBTQ+ students, neurodivergent students—every young person who walks through those doors deserves to feel that the community values them as much as it values tradition.

The decision at Prospect sends a powerful message. We do not have to keep honoring yesterday’s ideas when they stand in opposition to tomorrow’s students. It reminds us that names matter, symbols matter, and the small details around the arts can influence how inclusive or exclusive a space feels.

Across the country, high school theatre programs are under the microscope. Plays are being censored. Entire musicals are pulled after opening night. Teachers are navigating pressure from boards and parents. In that landscape, Prospect offers a counterexample. This was not about suppressing art. It was about affirming the humanity of the artists.

Theatre is about truth. Sometimes that truth arrives not from the script, but from the students themselves. And sometimes, the bravest performance is not the one under the spotlight. It is the one written in the pages of the school paper, daring an entire community to take a second look at the name above the door.