exterior of a former school turned into a community center

In Chicago, a Shuttered School Becomes a Beacon of Community Design

Lamar Johnson Collaborative turns the former elementary school into the Aspire Center for Workforce Innovation, a hub for career training and community pride.

When the Robert Emmet Elementary School in Chicago’s Austin neighborhood closed its doors in 2013 (one of 50 schools shut down in the city) it became a stark symbol of the disinvestment in a community already battling systemic inequities. The school, built in 1911 with a 1930 addition, sat at the corner of Madison Street and Central Avenue, the heart of the neighborhood.

“It was this boarded-up reminder that nobody had invested in the community,” says architect Max Komnenich, associate principal at Lamar Johnson Collaborative (LJC). “The residents made it clear: this building had to come back as a resource for Austin.” On Juneteenth 2025 the building—designed by LJC in partnership with non-profits Westside Health Authority and Austin Coming Together—reopened its doors as Aspire Center for Workforce Innovation, a hub for job training, entrepreneurship, and community gathering.

exterior of a former school turned into a community center
interior glass atrium of a former school building

“After the school closed someone bought the building and was going to use it to house a for-profit business,” Komnenich says. “The community showed up and said absolutely not.” In 2018, Westside Health Authority purchased it, with Austin Coming Together helping to shape its direction and LJC coming on board in 2019 to design it. They embedded the site in Austin’s Quality-of-Life Plan, a community-driven framework funded by the MacArthur Foundation. The vision stemmed from the community feedback. “Our role was to listen and figure out how design could support what they needed,” Komnenich says.

The school had always faced east onto Pine Avenue, a residential street. Madison and Central, two of Austin’s busiest arteries, were treated like the building’s back. LJC flipped the script, creating a three-story glass-atrium angled addition that is visible from the intersection. “It’s a beacon,” says Komnenich. “At night you see this glowing space full of activity and realize something is happening here, and it’s for you.”

The atrium houses amenities rarely seen in disinvested neighborhoods: a flexible event space, a mezzanine for coworking, and a landscaped roof deck. The staircase doubles as a social space, with railings that morph into counters where people can plug in laptops. “It’s what you’d expect in a downtown office building,” Komnenich notes. “That was intentional. We wanted Austin to have nice things.”

LJC restored the former oversized windows, allowing daylight to flood the spaces. Wood flooring salvaged from the gym now forms a history wall and vintage auditorium chairs were repurposed as seating outside offices. Even the principal’s office lives on, now occupied by Austin Coming Together’s executive director, Darnell Shields.

High-performance mechanical systems, auto-shading, and LED lighting make the building efficient, conserving embodied carbon. “It would have been easier to build new,” Komnenich admits. “But the reuse of these shuttered schools is incredibly powerful. People say, ‘I went here. I can’t believe it’s being used this way.’ That history adds so much weight.”

image of the interior of a workshop

Even the landscape outside extends the mission. The plaza doubles as a public living room, complete with Wi-Fi, speakers, and tiered seating. “This isn’t just landscaping,” Komnenich notes. “It’s health infrastructure.” 

If the architecture sets the stage, it’s the programming that brings Aspire alive. Jane Addams Resource Corporation runs welding and light manufacturing training out of the old gym. BMO Harris Bank, a financial partner, operates a branch in the lobby itself where financial literacy classes are part of the mix. And then there’s Austin Coming Together’s one-stop desk where residents can request resources. “Somebody walks in and says, ‘I need a job,’ or ‘I’m looking for childcare,’” Komnenich explains. “They get connected to one of 250 local organizations.”

At the Juneteenth ribbon-cutting ceremony many former teachers and principals returned. “They were beaming,” Komnenich recalls. “Seeing it alive again was incredible. It’s a place that belongs to them.” 

interior art installation

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