The proposed Education School building on Appian Way is hardly the huge "castle" it has been made out to be, a spokesman said yesterday.

Edward G. Kaelber, assistant dean of the Ed School, stated that the City Councilmen who oppose the building on esthetic grounds have been misled by "deceptive renderings which make it look much larger and more conspicuous than it will be."

In Monday's City Council meeting, several Councilmen spoke out against the building. "It looks like a wartime concrete bunker seven stories high," commented Daniel J. Hayes. Other members joined him in protesting that the construction would ruin the historic flavor of the Brattle Street-Appian Way area.

Kaelber said that the watercolor sketch which the Councilmen have seen exaggerates the appearance of the building.

"The drawing, a view from the Cambridge Common, makes the building look like a massive concrete structure which dwarfs everything around it," Kaelber explained. "Actually its dimensions--80 by 70 feet--are quite modest, and it rises no higher than the apartments at the corner of Brattle Street and Appian Way."

The new building will be smaller than Longfellow Hall across the street. It will have a brick, not concrete, exterior, to blend in with the "historic" architecture of the area.

The building has been called a "castle" partly because its designs call for few windows and a large "moat-like" courtyard. Kaelber explained that the architects consider these features helpful in fitting the building into the surroundings.

"They wanted a 'quiet' building where people outside would be fairly unaware of activity inside," Kaelber said. It was also decided that the structure would be less disturbing if it did not occupy all the available land. Hence the "moat."

In Monday's protest, Councilman Hayes prevented from joining the march, provided inspirational music on the scene.

Enthusiasm among the crowd ran high, especially when house committee Chairman John Purvis told them the march on Kirkland had been thwarted by a Cambridge regulation which requires a parade permit to march across a city street. Temporarily frustrated, the crowd of eager Funsters turned to shouting "wonk" to students deserting the cause for Lamont and study.

Most students were rather reticent about approaching the champagne trophy, and preferred to watch the Master, Senior Tutor, bandsmen, and house committemen attempt to drink from it. The chief difficulty appeared to be that it was rather difficult to judge just where the trickle of champagne would fall as you bent underneath the graceful silver spigot. Nevertheless, there was a general feeling of elation. The trophy would certainly prove useful at tea, if nothing else.The final trickle is sopped up by an eager Funster.