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Kid stuff

Juvenile. That’s a leading theme in Temple Fennell’s world these days. His untidy office on the second floor above Five Guys on the Downtown Mall has boxes of toys on the floor. A whole bookshelf is lined with DVDs of daily rushes from a movie that features a crying infant. His phone rings in the middle of an interview with good news about a baby in the family who had a medical emergency. He’s been thinking a lot about his own childhood and his dad who died a couple of months ago. And the morality of 9-year-olds, or at least one in particular, has been central in his thoughts lately, too.


In Joshua, the dangerous mind belongs to his 9-year-old son, and not to Sam Rockwell (front, left). ATO Pictures inked a deal with Fox Searchlight that will put the movie in theaters at the end of summer.

Fennell develops movies for ATO Pictures, the cinematic arm of the media empire that has been built or funded by Coran “Fingers in Every Pie” Capshaw, Chris Tetzeli, Michael Macdonald, Johnathan Dorfman,  Fennell and Dave Matthews, a part-time actor known around the office as “David.” And on January 27, Fennell & co. celebrated closing a deal with Fox Searchlight to distribute Joshua, an ATO-developed feature about a creepy piano prodigy who gets all Evil Seed on his parents’ asses when Baby Sis is born. The movie, which was written by David Gilbert and George Ratliff, who also directed it, stars indie film royals Sam Rockwell and Vera Farmiga, and with the new $4 million deal in place, it’s set to hit theaters in August.

This is the first major deal for ATO, which was established in 2002. Getting it inked meant navigating the treacherous waters of parties at the Sundance Film Festival (www.festival.sundance.org), and New York and Los Angeles meetings with the likes of Miramax executives. Not to mention managing all those glowing articles in papers like USA Today, The Hollywood Reporter, Variety and The New York Times.

Sheesh! It’s enough to make a guy want to come home and play with his trucks. And eventually Fennell will bust out the slightly battered yellow construction equipment that occupies a corner in front of his desk. They belong to an idea he has for a music video, a backhoe ballet of sorts that amuses Fennell, an American Film Institute fellow who put in seven years working on commercials and music videos. But first there is the matter of settling the check for Sundance expenses (Tetzeli drops in to explain one charge he’s disputing—something about a bad driver on the way to Dulles), and tending to post-production on two other ATO movies, including Savage Grace, starring Julianne Moore. After that, the 40something filmmaker-turned-executive will check in on a screenplay that Ratliff and Gilbert have in the works—an adaptation of Don DeLillo’s novel End Zone. Once that’s all taken care of, it will be time to shepherd that little devil Joshua into nationwide cineplexes and start tabulating the receipts.

Being occupied with childish things might not sound like the work of a grown man, but these days, for Temple Fennell and ATO Pictures, it’s not a bad way to make a living. And, it makes for a good excuse to keep Tonka Trucks lying around the office.

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The Rapture, with Under the Influence of Giants

dance In a way, the crowd that shoved its way to the front of the stage for The Rapture’s first visit to Charlottesville was like a Russian Imperial ballet company. Not because the 20somethings that squeezed in to shake it to the post-punk disco rompers were dressed in toe shoes or turning 32 fouettés to hits like “Get Myself Into It.” Instead, it was the audience’s remarkable uniformity of costume, physique and choreography that had me looking at them that way. After many years spent reviewing dance performances, I recognize the hallmarks of a classical troupe when I see them, even if there’s no Odette or Siegfried on view.

Among the warmly predictable elements at this ballet: a gradual crescendo of intensity and plot as conveyed through the (admittedly limited) choreography. The strictures of a rock concert being what they are, these were Dances for Narrow Spaces, and not Prosceniums (the one exception being multi-instrumentalist Gabriel Andruzzi, who deserves special recognition for his Nureyev-like gyrations in tight pants). Back on the dance floor, little was executed “full out,” as dance critics like to say when they talk shop. It was all about joy on the vertical plane—progressing from head bobs to full torso shimmies, while feet remained firmly planted lest one stomp somebody’s toes or coat or ill-placed beer cup.

Of course, there’s always one chorine who draws attention to her extra efforts—by the second number, “Heaven,” the lanky girl with the blow-out who was, let’s face it, overdressed in kitten heels and a black shift, had left the head nodding of the rest of the company behind. She’d be one of the first later in the evening to swim her limbs and rib cage up and down the chest of another (presumably her date, but who knows?).

Like many a time-tested dance show, the performers (in this case the audience) were both uniquely themselves, pulsing the floor on this certain chilly night in a way they wouldn’t quite repeat again, and exactly what you knew you’d see, because you’d seen it so many times before. No surprises, in other words, except perhaps the surprise of finding that by the end of the too-short set the frenzy and rhythm of the middle of the pack had radiated to the outer edges. Even those posing like statuary at the perimeter had finally started to move around—not something you usually see on the classical stage.

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Liberal group comforts GOP defector

A lifelong Republican, Joel White wandered into the Starr Hill Gallery on Tuesday evening, December 5. Was he “Dem,” or “Dem Curious”? Neither, exactly, judging from his brief voting record (he sat out the November election and voted red two times before), but the 25-year-old transplant from Columbus, Ohio, was certain that the monthly meeting of Left of Center (www.leftofcentercville.org) would be a welcome place for him to park the disgust over the Iraq War that had inspired his recent defection from the GOP. Inside the storefront gallery space, where three chafing trays of nachos eased steam into the air and the rock poster-lined walls celebrated such shining moments in local history as the Flaming Lips’ Pavilion concert and Neko Case’s show in the music hall upstairs, about 50 young white professionals were gathering for a preview by Del. David Toscano (www.toscano2005.com) and Sen. Creigh Deeds (www.creighdeeds.com) of what to expect when the State Legislature convenes in Richmond next month.


Sen. Creigh Deeds, who got into politics when he backed Mo Udall’s presidential bid in 1976, told the crowd that in those days he "was probably described as left of center, but I’m not sure I’m there anymore.

Deeds predicted that the usual round of anti-choice and anti-contraception bills would go through various Assembly committees. Toscano alerted the good-looking liberals to his intention to introduce legislation aimed at controlling predatory lending and improving the state’s minimum wage. Questions of transportation and techniques for effective lobbying met the politicians, who, in contrast to most of the crowd, each wore a suit and seemed to draw a lot of predetermined appreciation from the by-now seated crowd.

One organizer wanted an account of why the Democratic Party seemed to ignore smart, well-scrubbed younger liberals. Deeds’ response was to encourage anyone who had game to run for office—at any level. “If you’re feeling froggy,” said the preternaturally kinetic senator from Bath County, “jump.”

About an hour into the talk session, things started to break up. Joel White, who was capping his third week in town with the meeting, said it had met all his expectations—and then some. “It was very educational and entertaining,” White said. “It was very comforting to me.”

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Goode returns for a sixth term

Twenty-eight Democrats wrested Congressional seats from Republicans in last week’s elections, but Nelson County farmer Al Weed was not one of them. Maybe the other guys had better cell phone reception.

Though Weed lost in his second bid to replace Republican incumbent Virgil Goode as representative for the Fifth District, which includes Charlottesville, he posted better returns this time than in 2004, capturing close to 40 percent of votes overall. Still, the enormity of the district (equal to the size of New Jersey and running south all the way to Danville) and its spotty reliability, technology-wise, proved to be impediments as significant as Goode’s “aw shucks,” tabacky accent and his legacy of glad-handing and personal favors around Southside Virginia.

“We spent more time in the car than actual face-to-face campaigning,” said Di Abbott, Weed’s campaign coordinator, wiping tears from her face after Weed conceded to Goode at the Charlottesville Ice Park on Tuesday night, November 7. “There was so much wasted time. In some places we didn’t even have cell phone contact.”

Regrouping after his 2004 routing, Weed streamlined his campaign message this time out, focusing on job creation for the hard-hit Southside and, like other Dems, on the protracted and costly war effort in Iraq. Goode’s close ties with Mitchell Wade and Richard Berglund, officials from defense contractor MZM, who were responsible for lining Goode’s coffers with illegal campaign contributions, should have made the race a gimme for the Weed campaign as Republican “character” issues took the national stage, too.

Even GOP stalwarts like the Richmond Times-Dispatch backed off from Goode this time, though they opted to endorse no one rather than back Weed. Curt Gleeson, who managed communications for Weed’s two-year, district-crossing campaign allowed that there was “zero chance [the RTD] would endorse a challenger. But for them to say Virgil doesn’t have our backing, backs up what we’ve been saying: He’s no good.”

Local voters needed no convincing to support Weed, a decorated Vietnam vet whose son is currently serving in Iraq. Charlottesville gave him about 75 percent of the vote and even Albemarle, which went to Goode last time, backed him with 54 percent of the vote. But, in the end, this is here and that is there.

“To some degree there’s a rural/urban divide,” said George Loper, the local blogger and news archivist whose website is a mainstay for area Democrats. “It’s hard to get across that divide.”

He conceded that as a farmer, Weed is not exactly an urban sophisticate, but, added Loper, “he’s not part of the courthouse crowd down there,” either.

When it came time to concede, Weed put his focus squarely on what lies ahead—including reshaping the mammoth and diverse Fifth District. “What we’re doing here is laying the groundwork so we can elect more Democrats, so gerrymandering will be reversed,” he said. “These races are about building for a future."


For complete Virginia results see:
http://sbe.virginiainteractive.org/index.htm

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Region Ten prevails on Little High

The long real estate saga that has entangled the Little High Area Neighborhood Association (LHANA) and Region Ten, the public agency that provides services to mentally disabled people, came to what seems like a conclusion on October 26 when the City’s Board of Zoning Appeals ruled in favor of Region Ten. At issue was whether construction and redevelopment could continue apace at a Region Ten property at 1111-1113 Little High St. without the agency having to submit its plans to the Planning Commission for review and public hearing.

LHANA had contended that because the proposed use of the site was altered after a previous owner won City approval to develop a total of 40 apartments there, Region Ten’s plan required new review. Region Ten intends for the apartments to be low-income housing for their mainstreamed clients. LHANA maintained that, as such, The Mews (as the project is known) constituted adult assisted living.

On October 26, the Board of Zoning Appeals decided against LHANA.

The following day, LHANA President Mark Haskins struck a conciliatory note in a letter addressed to Region Ten’s interim director Caruso Brown. “One of our great concerns about The Mews has always been that it draws upon an unsuccessful public-housing project planning model which consistently results in the fragmentation of neighborhoods and the isolation of the very part of society it is intended to serve,” Haskins wrote. “Our dispute has been with Region Ten’s administration and planning of The Mews, however, not with the clients the project is intended to serve. Our neighborhood remains committed to welcoming all residents, regardless of disability."

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County nears addition of a 10th park


With a Planning Commission ruling on October 3, Albemarle got one step closer to adding a 10th park to the County park system. A 452-acre, County-owned parcel located on the north side of Route 641, off of Route 29N, was deemed to be in compliance with the Comprehensive Plan should the Parks & Recreation Department take steps to turn it into a park. The total property, including an additional 104 acres in Orange and 15 acres in Greene, is already used unofficially as park by people in the neighborhood. Were it to become a genuine park, it would increase Albemarle’s recreational acreage, currently at just over 2,000 acres, by about 20 percent.
    Albemarle has owned the wooded parcel, known as the Preddy Creek Trail, since 1969. It was purchased as a possible location for a “water supply impoundment,” as planning documents put it, but never put to that use, and it became an informal hiking area.
And that has suited many people just fine. Albemarle Parks and Recreation Director Pat Mullaney notes that a recent assessment of recreational needs in the county points to natural areas and trails as a high need among residents. “Sixty-two percent of households use natural areas and trails,” he says. “We’ve got opportunities out there with Preddy Creek. That was the impetus for us.”
    When it comes to planning and development, however, there are many steps along the road, and Preddy Creek is probably a couple of years away from being a full-fledged park, Mullaney says. The project has been written into the Capital Improvement Plan that the Board of Supervisors will consider next April, so that’s a start. Mullaney anticipates that work to create parking and a turnaround and basic toilet facilities would cost about $198,000 (“a lot of trails can be developed by volunteer labor,” he says). Still, there’s the matter of a site plan and then site plan approval, and Mullaney says it could be well into 2008 before Preddy Creek becomes a true County park. In the meantime, it is still open for the informal use that made it such a viable candidate for parkland to begin with.—Cathy Harding

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When God comes around again

Deliver Us from Hollywood: Previewing the Virginia Film Festival

The first thing I wanted to do after I watched Paul Wagner’s new documentary, The God of a Second Chance, was talk to him about storytelling. I love stories, couldn’t really be in this line of work if I didn’t, but I’ve learned over the years that just because you want to hear somebody’s account, that doesn’t mean they’ll share it with you.
    As a filmmaker for the past 30 years, Wagner, a Charlottesvillian, understands this, too. And he has pulled off something remarkable—actually many remarkable things—in Second Chance. Though a white, middle-class Baby Boomer, he manages a very intimate view of his film’s subjects—impoverished black residents of Anacostia, a neighborhood in southwest Washington, D.C. It’s a hardscrabble place of needles, pipes, babies having babies, adults shuffling around without jobs, and lots of churches. It’s a place, in other words, that would be easy to stereotype. It’s also a place where no one could blame the neighbors for shutting their doors on a well-meaning Caucasian filmmaker from Central Virginia (even an Academy Award-winner, as Wagner is) who rolls through wanting to look at how religion can lift addicts out of the gutter or motivate a boy to wear a condom.
    Yet that doesn’t seem to be what happened. Profoundly nonideological and respectful of its subjects, Second Chance, which will premiere this weekend during the Virginia Film Festival (see schedule, page 27), closely follows the course of two men searching for a better way. One’s a junkie and one’s a young rapper with, let’s call it, a zipper problem. It’s compelling storytelling. I want to know how Wagner pulled it off.
    “I spent months without a camera just hanging out meeting people,” he says.
    In time, he put together a crew of filmmakers, many black, to work with him in the neighborhood.
    But given his subject—namely, people whose deep religious convictions compel them to help others who have fallen on hard times—Wagner was bound to come across some folks who were eager to spill. “If you get someone to talk about their relationship with Jesus, I don’t care if you’re white, black, young or old…they are going to talk to you. In other words, they’ve made a commitment to be open about the deepest aspects of their life and I think the issue of me being a white filmmaker was probably less of a problem than even I imagined it might be.”
    Wagner admits that he worries about a different potential problem with the movie, one that stems from the very nonpartisan quality that I so admire in Second Chance. Here’s what I mean: Given the hijacking of the concept of faith-based anything by intolerant, agenda-pushing right-wingers over the past decade or more, it’s all too easy to develop an anti-faith reflex if it so happens that you object to the rhetoric of ultraconservatives. Wagner, who I think it would be safe to say is not an ultraconservative, nevertheless gets out of the way of the story he’s telling. I don’t know if he’s turned off or on by religion or its uses in getting poor people on a better path. And that ambiguity contributes to a more interesting movie as far as I’m concerned (here let us pause and invoke the opposing example of someone like Michael Moore, just to drive the point home).
    “I’m aware that some people, if they looked at the film and said, ‘Oh, you see those faith-based organizations are making a difference in people’s lives,’ they could use that potentially as ammunition for some policy issues. I’m not interested in the policy issues and I certainly didn’t make the film to fulfill anyone’s desires in that regard,” he says.
    Continuing, Wagner admits that his “great fear” for the film is that “it will have no constituency because I could be pissing everybody off. Which is to say, it doesn’t serve the interest of that particular political constituency supporting government-supported faith-based organizations.
    “But there are also lots of people who love Jesus who may be turned off by the film because it’s profane, because it represents a collision of religion and drugs and sex and profanity. And I think a lot of us—which is to say educated white people, largely liberal and secular—will have problems with it because it is about religion and about the power of religion in people’s lives.
    “I’m worried that people who like Jesus won’t see it, people who don’t like Jesus won’t see it.”

In case you fall into either category, let me lay some of the movie on you so as to persuade you to see it. At the start, we tour Anacostia, which seems marked by burned-out buildings and churches. Sleepy Curry, the fatherless rapper whose story is one of two threads in Second Chance, narrates as he walks, casting the neighborhood reality that is like a third protagonist in the story. “The world is set up for us to be failures,” he says. “Look at the jails. Look at the job opportunities we ain’t have.”
    Richie Barkley is the other man chronicled in Second Chance. Anacostia has the highest rates of drug abuse in the city, and Richie is one of the guys who sent those numbers to the top. But when we meet him, he is on his way back from the hard bottom that left him homeless, penniless and friendless. He’s part of an organization called Community Action Group, a neighborhood rehab program where it is not unusual to find hundreds of addicts gathered to literally sing and play God’s praises, as Wagner shows in an extraordinary scene in his movie.
    Hal Jordan directs CAG, and he occupies the complex moral core of the movie. A burly man with a lot of living behind him, Jordan is not sentimental about his calling—to put God first in the war against drugs, as CAG’s slogan puts it. “I’m stuck with my belief in God and my belief that what they say about black men is not true,” Jordan says.
    “Hal totally blew me away as a person,” Wagner says. “He embodies a lot of what I’ve talked about—about a film that is profane and deeply spiritual. He is that as a person. He’s a rough and tumble, four-letter-word-using kind of person who’s seen it all, who’s had a lot of personal issues in his own life, who deals on a daily basis with people that have big issues. And yet he has a really deep faith in God that inspires him to do amazing work.”
    Richie and Hal strive to support Richie’s wife, Cassey, in a new life. Wearing 30 years of heroin abuse on her face, Cassey talks plainly about the impoverished self-esteem that made drugs an easy choice for her. Like all the people in Second Chance, Cassey is stingingly self-aware. In the end, however, she goes back to the drugs.
    Faith takes a role in handling other social problems, and Steve Fitzhugh, a barrel-chested former NFL player leads an organization, The House, that’s geared toward neighborhood teens. Unabashed in the divine inspiration that led him to leave professional football to return to “mission” work in the ’hood, Fitzhugh, like Jordan, nevertheless operates in the real world. When we first meet him he is speculating on what Jesus would say about Monday Night Football. Later, he tells a group of boys at the club, including Sleepy, “God has a plan for your penis. God has a plan. Are you going to trust him to give you the hook-up?” It’s abstinence counseling of a different stripe, entirely.
    Though Sleepy is wise in the ways of a fatherless childhood (his mother had him at the age of 14), somehow he cannot quite incorporate Fitzhugh’s message. We find him dealing with multiple pregnancies through the course of the film (and afterward, Wagner says).

In the end, The God of a Second Chance does not tie people’s problems neatly into a bow. If it did, that wouldn’t be very effective storytelling, it seems to me.
But there’s an even more significant way that it counters cliché—in the very intimacy it manages with the folks of Anacostia. Leaving God aside, the film has many other accomplishments.
    “The crack addict, the irresponsible black teenager who doesn’t care how many girls he gets pregnant, the welfare mother—these are all the classic stereotypes of the inner-city black community,” Wagner says. “You know what? As soon as you meet them as people, all those stereotypes just sort of wash away and really don’t help you at all in terms of going, ‘Well, do I approve of this, do I disapprove of this, how do I feel about that, how do I feel about their behavior in that regard?’ Suddenly they’re just complex human beings who demand to be met on their own terms by the audience.”
    Go see The God of a Second Chance this weekend. Support your local sophisticated filmmaker.

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There's still time to fix the city schools

It was past 11pm on Thursday, March 3, and after four hours of deliberation the Charlottesville City School Board remained divided over how to balance the 2005-06 budget due the next day to City Council. Six of the board’s seven appointees were present, along with Dr. Scottie Griffin, the division’s superintendent. The sour atmosphere in the Charlottesville High School library was made no better by board members behaving like uncooperative first-graders. Eyes were rolling, snide comments were flying.

   During the first hour of the marathon meeting, which ended at midnight, the board had voted to raise out-of-district tuition next year. But on matters like putting money into a K-8 math program or raising teachers’ salaries, there was discord. Among the few diehards remaining in the audience, the agitation was getting loud. Casey Beeghly took the lectern. As an out-of-district parent, she told the board, she had been proud to send her two kids to city schools. “This year I’m embarrassed,” she said. “I’m amazed that you think this is an attractive school system. Some of you have no idea of the impact of this on the school system.

   “Wake up and smell the sewer!”

   Since July, when Griffin got here and Dede Smith was elected School Board chair, parents had grown more outraged over fast-paced, unexplained changes and declining morale as teachers faced sharp rebukes to their work. With five of the division’s nine schools narrowly failing State standards, the board had tried to find a new superintendent who could improve the division’s standing. But parents protested the changes and disrespect attributed to Griffin, and a much smaller contingent of black leaders fired back. They claimed that the real problem with Griffin, who is African-American, was her race and gender. They said white parents didn’t want black children to improve. Parents and teachers felt insulted. The board said little about it; the superintendent said nothing. There was hardly any substantive discussion of achievement strategies and little said about the schools’ many successes. Mostly the talk about the schools concerned “failure” and “racism.”

   Meanwhile, Griffin, with Smith at her back, took a “we know what’s good for you” stance. She wanted to cut direct student services such as guidance counselors and add four vague administrative posts that she claimed would fix achievement discrepancies. But, she couldn’t say exactly how the new jobs, budgeted at about $80,000 each, would fashion that. Public frustration mounted. At a mid-February board meeting, Melissa Schraeder, an instructional assistant at Greenbrier Elementary, summed it up: “If someone would show me how the budget closes the achievement gap, I would appreciate it.”

   Yes, the school division—or at least the discourse about the school division—has become messy. But is it really a sewer? What if it’s more like a leaky latrine? Can we fix it?

   That hundreds of people would attend dozens of school meetings over the past six months suggests the public really wants to be involved. Moreover, the $57.7 million budget that the School Board eventually approved is a compromise. Naturally, it’s imperfect (teachers’ modest raises remain controversial, for instance), but it’s far from Griffin’s first document. They were called unresponsive at times, yet the leadership apparently took some criticisms to heart.

   Those facts inform the assumption in this article that people want to and can work together to make the public schools worthy of, as one critic put it, “the myth of Charlottesville.” Even if Griffin has all but packed her bags to leave, as has been widely rumored [see sidebar, p.27], most parents and teachers are here to stay. There’s a good conversation awaiting everyone who cares about fixing what’s broken about Charlottesville’s public schools. Away from the rancor of School Board meetings, many have ideas for how to build on what’s working.

 

Start with a plan

As recently as early February, Griffin described her goals for the school system in general terms—“we are expecting that all of our students will achieve on an exemplary level.” But a division that faces the possibility of more State- and federal-level intervention if certain test scores don’t improve needs more deliberate goals than that. A vision of higher-achieving, more critically thoughtful students seems indisputable.

   The real work? Making a plan to get there. Washington takes a hand now that Charlottesville, with its 4,400 students, is among the small minority of Virginia school systems that have failed to make annual progress requirements. Last year Clark Elementary, for instance, had to offer parents the chance to send their children to other city grade schools as a consequence for its low Standards of Learning (SOL) passing rates, off by a few percentage points in most cases.

   If, in what school system personnel call the “unlikely event” that Clark doesn’t have an acceptable passing rate in math and English later this year, Washington will not only continue with the schoolchoice option. It will also require that students have extra services, such as personal tutoring, made available to them at the school division’s expense. And the sanctions will just keep getting tougher.

   Throughout the fall and winter many, including City Councilors, criticized Griffin for speeding to reroute the school division without first justifying it. In January, Councilor Blake Caravati said he wouldn’t support her budget because there was no guiding plan. Earlier this month, Councilor Kendra Hamilton agreed.

   “Blake is right. A strategic plan is the physical articulation of your vision,” she says.

   The School Board’s most recent strategic plan dates to 2000 and Griffin has said she
needs a year to write a new one. Absent something fresh, the superintendent said select recommendations from a division-wide audit conducted in November would guide her first budget. The audit, by Phi Delta Kappa International, came to the polarizing conclusion that Charlottesville’s gap in standardized test scores had to result from teacher inadequacies and a legacy of racism. Clearly, PDK said, the allocation of resources—at about $12,000 per student—isn’t the issue. (PDK made short shrift of socio-economic issues, not really paying attention, for instance, to poverty measures among low-scoring kids.)

   Griffin’s unspecified reference to the PDK audit at budget time didn’t fill in for a strategic plan. In February, Karl Ackerman pleaded with the board: “In all of these discussions, I have not heard the School Board decide to choose or not choose recommendations. It seems it would make [the process] easier to go through them. Why hasn’t the board chosen recommendations?”

   Clearly, in Charlottesville, where open government is treated practically as a birthright, the public wants a transparent vision of what the school system should look like at its best, and a set of steps to get there.

   In February Smith said she expected the division to begin strategic planning in April. The public, she said, is urged to get involved.

 

Start small

After a couple of years of volunteering with the reading program at Burnley-Moran Elementary, Casey Beeghly observes, “school readiness is key to having children succeed.” Some kids enter kindergarten knowing how to read; others can’t tell which side is up on a book. “When you have kids entering school where there’s already a gap present on Day One, you don’t have as great a chance of reducing the achievement gap,” she says.

   Andy Block and Angela Ciolfi agree. He runs Legal Aid’s Just Children, a child-advocacy project that in the past three years has looked at public education, and she is the staff attorney. “If kids are coming to school behind because their families don’t have a lot of education,” Block says, “the way things are now, and until we close the gap…it’s going to get uglier and uglier for children as they get older.” What he means is that once denied a full SOL-certified diploma, a kid has seriously diminished options ahead of him—jobs, enlisting in the military and so on. “If you don’t have a high school diploma you end up contributing less and costing more,” Block says.

   To give underprivileged kids a better chance and get them hooked on school early, Block and Ciolfi want to expand city preschool programs by one year to include 3-year-olds. Indeed, Ciolfi suggests that it is financially irresponsible not to fund early childhood education for the youngest kids, complete with “wraparound” social services to keep families functioning well.

   “There are amazing studies that have been done on how high-quality preschools are the key to success” in school and later life, she says. “Even if you have to put a lot of money in, the output is just… It’s something that we have to do.”

 

Support the teachers

But it all comes down to teachers, and Charlottesville’s—like all public school teachers—should get the respect and support they deserve. City Councilor Hamilton, who is an editor for the journal Black Issues in Higher Education, cites research that shows teachers and principals have the most impact of any other factor on a school system.

   Obviously, salary is a measure of support. The final budget approved by the School Board on March 9 included an increase of 4.5 percent for teachers, putting starting salaries at slightly more than $36,000. As the public pointed out repeatedly, the rising cost of housing here puts new teachers in the horns of a dilemma. Who can afford to rent, let alone buy, on $36,000 a year?

   On top of that, other school divisions are competing hard for the best teachers. In Albemarle, first-year teachers will start at about $37,500, if the current proposed budget is approved.

   If salaries in Charlottesville fall below regional standards, how soon would it be before the best and brightest instructors opt to live and work in surrounding communities instead of Charlottesville? If that happens, the dire analysis of the PDK audit will start to ring true.

   Teachers also need support on a day-to-day basis in the classroom. Specifically, they need to work together and be able to count on the principal’s leadership. Over the past decade being a good principal has come to mean something new. Now “the best principals are instructional leaders,” says Bruce Benson. He’s the county’s executive director for curriculum, instruction and technology. A principal’s job is to help teachers figure out the best way to teach, Benson says.

   In any school system, teachers don’t make it up as they go along. The administration gives them specific guidelines, the way riverbanks direct the flow of a body of water, to use Benson’s analogy. But there should be room for creativity and decision making.

   Benson says Albemarle adheres to the philosophy that everyday choices about how to move students through new lessons “should be made by the classroom teacher.” The administration’s job is to make sure teachers know about what’s called in education courses “best practices.”

   In the winter, Tim Flynn, the principal of Charlottesville’s middle school, appealed to the School Board to reinstate the dean of students position that his school, Buford, lost last year. Why? He wanted to help teachers focus on learning in their classrooms. He was encouraged by the fact that SOL scores for African-American students, while still short of State mandates, were on the rise. In English, for instance, only 22.5 percent of black middle-schoolers earned a passing grade on the State SOL exam in 2002. By 2004, that number was up to 43.2 percent. In math, during the same period, black students went from 14.1 percent passing to 40.7 percent. A full-time disciplinarian had been “the real key at re-establishing trust” in Buford’s teaching staff and getting these results, Flynn said. If someone is charged with working on discipline issues exclusively, it means the principal and assistant principal can get into classrooms more, he added.

   The revised budget was ultimately approved to include Buford’s dean.

   Teachers need to be confident that the administration is on their side. How else can they trust directives from Central Office to teach or test in new ways? The county, for instance, uses “vertical teams” of K-12 teachers in math, English, social studies and science. Led by the central administration, the teams look at student performance—and they rely heavily on teacher feedback.

   Dr. Griffin is no stranger to this theory, either. In an interview the day after the School Board approved the 2005-06 budget, clearly relieved, she said, “It’s important to have teachers engaging in [curriculum-building] endeavors because they’re the ones who actually are in classrooms with students. They will make all the difference in the world. They need to be comfortable with any tools they’re using. They need to have a lot of input into what the curriculum should be. They need to buy into anything and everything that we’re doing so that they can continue to be committed to what they’re doing.”

   If this is her message, apparently it didn’t get through early on. Though the survey doesn’t track trends (making it hard to know if teachers’ views have changed since Griffin has been in charge), January results from a survey of city teachers show that only 33 percent feel they are treated professionally by “Central Office administration.” By contrast, 85 percent who responded to the questionnaire by the Charlottesville Education Association agree that they are treated professionally by “building administration.”

 

Support the parents

Some parents get to every meeting and can recite the superintendent’s resume by heart. For others, a school meeting is nearly impossible. Often poor, single women, their kids don’t do all that well in school. (About half of Charlottesville’s public school students are eligible for free and reduced lunch, a standard measure of poverty.) “It’s unrealistic to expect you’ll have these families mostly headed by single women to be able to squeeze one more meeting into their schedules,” says Karen Waters, executive director of Quality Community Council, an advocacy and networking organization targeted at the city’s poorest neighborhoods. “They’re just sort of dealing.”

   Waters insists that the school division, along with social service providers, must “find a way to engage the folks whose lives they want to impact.”

   That’s the way Harold Foley sees it, too. The Westhaven resident and father coordinates that housing project’s after-school program three days a week. He credits Anne Lintner, the principal at Burnley-Moran, for making sure she reaches families at her school who live in Westhaven. Her steps to meet parents outside of the school building, as an example, mark the kind of change in “customer service” that Foley would like to see all around. He estimates that 70 percent of the parents in his neighborhood “feel assaulted about coming into the school.”

   Not well educated (often by Charlottesville schools), these parents can feel put down. “A lot of parents feel like the staff or principal is talking over their heads sometimes. They don’t see the staff as particularly friendly,” he says.

   “I don’t particularly think it’s racist,” he adds, “but we are in Thomas Jefferson’s town and a lot of African-Americans think if they’re not comfortable, it’s a race thing. But if you’re not comfortable, maybe they don’t know. You have to tell [the teachers and principal.]”

   Foley recommends that teachers and principals learn how to break the ice.

   M. Rick Turner, the head of the local NAACP, hosted a meeting in February on the topic of engaging African-American parents in their children’s education. He offered transportation and childcare on the NAACP’s behalf to parents who want to go to school meetings.

   Once parents get into the building, however, not everyone knows how to press a teacher for answers about their kid. Leah Puryear, who put two children through city schools and who heads UVA’s Upward Bound program, has a script when that happens. It begins with identifying yourself and your child. From there explain why you’ve come in or called and find out what work your child has not completed. Share information that might be news to the teacher and ask for the same in return.

   Puryear believes a child’s success hinges on parents being involved, and in her role directing a federally funded college prep program for low-income and first-generation college students, she sees the results. “It’s very, very important if children know there’s somebody there who cares about them. It makes the school process a lot easier,” she says.

 

Rationalize the curriculum

Do you want to raise Standards of Learning test scores or educate children? Both are necessary but they are not equal. It’s important to specify where the division should aim long-term.

   Whatever the goal, at this stage of the game, it’s likely too late to lament standardized testing, like the Flanagan tests that were essentially dumped into city schools this year.

   Griffin says that assessments are “critical” because “you have to know where your students are performing and you have to use that performance data to focus your instruction.” Other school administrators in her position say essentially the same thing.

   Moreover, there’s no point holding off all testing until students take the SOL exams at the end of a school year. By then, it’s too late for that group of students, from a compliance point of view.

   “It’s akin to a doctor doing diagnostic testing as opposed to an autopsy model,” says Benson, from Albemarle’s school division.

   What’s the point of the tests? To steer a school division clear of Richmond and Washington by generating acceptable pass rates? School Board member Peggy Van Yahres says, “We need to go beyond the SOLS, particularly because many of our children are passing them.”

   For the government the acceptable passing rate is 70 percent, which, as Upward Bound’s Leah Puryear, points out, “is a D.”

   “What is passing for the State should not be passing for you. The D is not getting you to where you ultimately need to be,” she says of the school system.

   Still, if you want to reinforce the value of critical thinking, it probably helps to be sure that all students are covering the same content grade by grade. For all the dispute over Griffin’s initial proposal to organize curriculum from the top down with four highly paid coordinators, the idea that curriculum should be more predictably structured did gain credibility.

   Jim Henderson, the principal at Walker Upper Elementary, the grade school attended by every fifth- and sixth-grader in Charlottesville, urged Griffin and the board to adopt a math curriculum that begins in kindergarten and extends through at least sixth grade. Math is one of the areas where Walker just missed State accreditation. “We’ve been Band-aiding math for too many years,” he said on March 3 at the all-night board meeting. “We have to make sure we have continuity when the kids get to us.”

   Now that the coordinators are axed, Griffin is hearing teachers’ ideas about some curriculum development. She says she has teacher committees organized to examine K-4 curriculum. Teachers are “key personnel” in figuring out what works with Charlottesville students. “They need to be at the table,” Griffin says. “They are at the table and they will continue to be at the table.”

 

Respect the history

As the Charlottesville school system has been stretched out on the examining table over these several months, many have made a similar diagnosis: “When you listen to stories now about Charlottesville, sometimes I think we’re in two different cities,” said Berdell Fleming in February. A graduate of the city’s then-black high school, she was one of four panelists the PTO Council recruited to describe the racial history of Charlottesville’s schools. While the schools were eventually integrated in 1959, it took several court orders to dissuade local segregationists of their “rights.”

   Waters sees the same thing—two Charlottesvilles.

   “But what’s happening now is everyone is paying the consequences for it because of No Child Left Behind and the SOLs. Now it affects everybody so everybody has to be invested in the solution,” she says.

   While liberal, white parents recoil at the word “racist,” it’s naïve to think that race is not a factor. Just 50 years ago people running this school system would rather have denied blacks diplomas than let them sit next to white students.

   “I think race always matters, because this is America,” says City Councilor Kendra Hamilton. “As much as we like to say this is a color-blind society, it is a joke.”

   “We have to have a civic conversation and understand who people are,” says school board member Van Yahres. “Low-income parents have to understand when middle-income parents question the schools, they’re not racist. Middle-class parents need to know low-income parents feel the schools have been failing them.”

   Foley says we have to look at the complete school experience. “More janitors are black than teachers are black. Kids see black cafeteria workers and not that many teachers or principals. It makes a difference,” he says. Apparently the division agrees. Michael Heard, the city schools’ director of human resources, has a plan to recruit more black teachers to Charlottesville.

   Hamilton suggests that additionally, the division’s young teachers need diversity training: “Just because you’re well meaning doesn’t mean you have the cultural competence to deal with some of these kids who have real problems.”

   But honoring the history of Charlottesville’s schools means acknowledging the many good things that have happened—and continue to happen—here. Why else would the parents of 223 children from outside the city pay tuition to send their kids here? Maybe it’s the internationally award-winning high school orchestra. Maybe it’s the state-dominating band program. Maybe it’s the academic quiz team. Maybe it’s the good teaching.

   Indeed, as the example of Buford Middle School demonstrates, even if some schools haven’t earned State accreditation yet, the actual performance of students is improving quickly. Teachers and principals are awake and alert to what needs to be done.

 

Accept feedback

Frankly, almost no one comes out of the public school controversy smelling like a rose. During a heated budget forum in February, Hamilton challenged people on every side to examine their motives: “Are you working for the good of the community or do you just want to be right?”

   Communication has to improve, plain and simple. Waters suggests small focus groups to get issues on the table, be they problems with advanced math homework or questions of which SOL-aligned testing program to introduce and how.

   “Everybody is in the room. That’s something we can build on. We have to make a decision as a community that we want to build on it,” Hamilton says.

   We have to move forward from here and buy into the idea of keeping education local, Puryear says, of “not letting the State come in here and run the public schools.”

   We have to suspend finger pointing, because larger issues loom, she says. “I cannot be held accountable for what was said 10 years ago, but in 2007 if certain things don’t happen, we’ll all be accountable.”

 

City schools at a glance

•    6 K-4 elementary schools

•    1 5-6 upper elementary school

•    1 middle school

•    1 high school

•    4,386 students, including 168 preschoolers

•    48.6 percent are African-American

•    42.2 percent are White

•    3.3 percent are Hispanic

•    2.1 percent are Asian

•    21 percent of students are identified for gifted education

•    17 percent qualify for special education

•    50.3 percent are eligible for free and reduced meal programs

•    56 percent of teaching staff hold advanced degrees

 

 

Will she stay or will she go?
Rumors run amok about Griffin

Almost since the day she started as superintendent on July 1, rumors have swirled about Dr. Scottie Griffin’s employment status. The buzz became even more intense last week when the division gave notice of four closed meetings scheduled to occur in the six days leading up to the next School Board meeting, on Thursday, March 31, beginning at 7pm.

   The School Board is authorized to hold closed meetings for three reasons: 1) discussion of personnel matters; 2) discussion of the purchase or disposition of property; and 3) disciplinary hearings.

   On Tuesday, March 29, there will be a disciplinary hearing. That kind of closed session takes place when a student is recommended for expulsion or removal to the alternative school.

   But what of the other three closed meetings, two of which are scheduled for Wednesday, March 30? Rumor abounds that the topic of those might be the employment status of Assistant Superintendent Dr. Laura Purnell, who is said to be the author of a widely circulated February letter critical of Dr. Griffin’s management. Purnell has never confirmed publicly that she wrote the letter.

   If Purnell’s position is to be cut on July 1, as has also been rumored, there was no evidence of that decision at press time. Ed Gillaspie, the division’s director of finance, confirmed that Purnell’s salary is intact in the budget he sent to City Council on March 25. Should Griffin decide to dump Purnell, she would need approval of the board to alter the budget they approved on March 9. On this topic, Griffin will not comment, saying “it’s a real confidential personnel issue.”

   City Councilor Blake Caravati suggests that, logistics aside, Purnell is on the way out. He says that two people close to the situation showed him a letter that was sent to Purnell on March 24 stating that her position would be eliminated in the next fiscal year.

   Still, that rumor doesn’t quell speculation about Griffin, who would earn $153,540 next year and who stayed at her previous job with the New Orleans schools for only five months. “I know generally that they’re a lot about Dr. Griffin,” Caravati says of the spate of closed School Board meetings. “It probably has something to do with tenure. I assume they’re working toward some end.” Caravati implies that Griffin’s termination as Charlottesville superintendent is the “end” in question.—C.H.

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Homeward bound

Last month, at the invitation of Arthur Brown, onetime Keswickian now working with the U.S. State Department in Conakry, Guinea, Charlottesville musicians Corey Harris and Darrell Rose visited Guinea and Sierra Leone for two weeks as musical ambassadors to those West African countries. For Harris, the much-celebrated blues guitarist and songwriter whose musical journey homeward was recently the subject of a documentary film by Martin Scorsese, the trip fit into his larger goal to spread awareness of the roots of Black American music. His recent work, he says, is “not only so I can learn and be a better musician, but just to pull people’s coats to say, ‘Hey this is what’s going on over there. The world is bigger than Alaska to New York.’” Rose, a percussionist who plays frequently with Harris and sits in with groups like The Wailers, was deeply affected by the respect accorded to musicians in Africa. It was, he says, “like going home.” Harris and Rose talked about their experiences in a recent interview with C-VILLE editor Cathy Harding. That conversation is excerpted below.

Cathy Harding: Why did Arthur Brown ask you to make this trip?

Corey Harris: Well, I think the purpose was to highlight lesser-known styles of American music. The State Department has a program called the “Jazz Ambassadors” that they’ve been offering since the ’50s, and the past several years it’s diversified to include several different types of music.

Also this helps put a good face on the U.S., because of course the way the world is today people aren’t feeling too happy with the United States.

Did you have any ambivalence about being officially supported by the U.S. government?

Harris: It didn’t bother me because I think of myself first and foremost as a citizen of the world. I guess because my ancestors were slaves I don’t feel like I owe the government anything, you know what I mean? I also feel like if I’m presenting myself as a citizen of the world, as an international black man who has a love and interest in Africa, then I don’t need to explain myself.

Darrell, what was the experience like for you bringing your instruments [djembe and other traditional African percussion] into Guinea and Sierra Leone?

Darrell Rose: Well, I think it was for me to represent correctly what I’ve been taught over the years and to come in a humble fashion to learn more and to come correct. Based on what we did, we came correct.

Harris: It was interesting because here in the States if you’re really, really good you get kind of put up on a pedestal. There the respect is shown in a different way. Even the greatest musician in Guinea—if you are moved by his solo and  you want to go over and give him some money you can just climb up on stage and tuck some money in his shirt. If you’re at, I don’t know, an Aerosmith concert and you try that you’re going to get beaten down by the bouncers.

We both ran into a lot of really exceptional musicians and what really surprised me about their mastery most was that they’re very hip to Western music, very hip to Black American music. They’re much more aware of the style and the sonic characteristics of our music than we are of them as a whole, meaning black people, I guess because we’ve been over here so long we’ve kind of developed our own little culture and we don’t feel like we need to listen to other black cultures’ music. There it was different. Musicians know all about their traditional music, where they come from, the roots of what they do, and they know everybody else’s stuff too. I mean, they’re equally literate playing blues, they can play jazz, they can play Cuban-style salsa music, Mandingo…

Has the experience changed you as a performer or songwriter?

Rose: Well, it’s changed the way that I listen.

Harris: This trip was the seventh time I’ve been over to Africa and it was significant. It was like I could benefit from the experience of having been there before and the musical things that I heard in Mali and also in Cameroon and in Morocco. I think I began to understand them better by being in Guinea and I’m not really sure why but it definitely had a change on my playing. It kind of in a way tied up a lot of loose musical ends, like maybe questions musically that I had or little things that are characteristic of African music that I may not have understood.

The main thing for me is that it kind of put me on a different orientation and it showed me a lot about myself and our history as black people. Yeah, we came with blues and later jazz and that was our gift to the world, but that is just a branch of the tree. Being in Africa we were able to observe the whole tree and it put things in perspective.

You went as musical ambassadors but it sounds as if a great deal of your time spent there was really as students. I’m sure the devastation and severe poverty gave the music a completely different meaning there where here it’s more of an entertainment.

Rose: In Sierra Leone I think there was an urgency. It was like playing blues to uplift yourself. So there’s a sadness there. When Corey was singing “Didn’t My Lord Deliver Daniel” it was like the room just stood up, everybody got up and started clapping.

Harris: In Sierra Leone, they’ve been through all this hell for 10, 11 years but you could see that people were so sick of war that they appreciated the value of a simple smile.

Our experiences were very different in Conakry as opposed to Sierra Leone. The rebels who were fighting in Sierra Leone were supported by Liberia, by Charles Taylor, and everyone knows about the atrocities. They had armies of children who were amputating, chopping people’s hands off, mutilating them. In fact, someone told me that rebel soldiers would slit the children under their eyes and then rub cocaine in their eyes and then make the kids go do these things.

Talking with the musicians, [we learned] the culture of the society has really been devastated. They were saying, “Well, we used to have other members but so-and-so got killed, so-and-so ran off.” So they’re picking up the pieces right off the floor.

Whereas Guinea, they went through a dictatorship. Sekou Touré was a dictator in Guinea. Basically, Guinea was the first African colony to get their independence from the French. Being nationalistic, the government wanted to show what the nation could do culturally and artistically in a national sense representing all the ethnic groups of Guinea. Now when that government ended several years ago, that whole system went out the window but they’re still benefiting from it in that they had several decades of a system where the youth were developed and brought up and they were supported and you didn’t have to work at the post office or sell food or drive a taxi cab to make a living as a musician. In Guinea we were able to meet more with musicians and really get to know them better, whereas in Sierra Leone we only interacted with them at the events that were set up by the embassy.

How does this experience influence what you see as your musical or social mission here?

Rose: My goal is to have as many children as I can possibly get for a big performance, it may be at First Night if I can pull them all together and then we would like to perhaps take some children across to Africa some day where they can see, can experience what’s going on over there.

Harris: It’s a dream of ours to be able to establish a nonprofit and find somebody to fund a trip to send some chaperones and some children over to the continent to a place where we’ve been before, like Guinea, where we have contact. And another great thing about this is that since we did work with the diplomatic organizations in both areas, all that infrastructure is there. I think the benefit of something like that if it were on an annual or semi-annual basis over the years for this community would be tremendous not only in the level of musicianship but also in terms of the understanding of the children of their world. Because, let’s face it, Africa has a stigma on it different than almost any other continent. People have so many misconceptions, and the media in this country doesn’t help it. The only time you hear of something about Africa is some really crazy off-the-wall stuff, either it’s a horrible war; it may have been a drought, a coup, something of that sort. We both want to show that there are no generalizations that can be applied to Africa.

The other thing I would like to do is to be able to establish some sort of fund to help the musicians over there. A country like Guinea with around 7 million people, they don’t have a music school, they don’t sell music supplies, they don’t sell guitar strings in the whole country, neither do they in Sierra Leone.

What can people do to help with nonprofit organizing or sending over guitar strings?

Harris: They can e-mail us at oji251@hotmail.com or you can just go to the Coreyharrismusic.com website.

Corey Harris and Darryl Rose will play the Prism Saturday, April 30, at 8pm. Tickets cost $18-22. Call 97-PRISM for more information.

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Building a bridge

While contemplating the formation of a new educational center that would foster spiritual well being, cultural understanding and religious teaching, Heena Reiter was reminded, she says, of a song by the 17th century teacher Reb Nachman of Bratslov. "All the world is a narrow bridge," goes the rough translation, "the most important thing is not to be afraid." With that inspiration was born Gesher, a self-described resource for the Jewish and wider community of Charlottesville. In Hebrew, "gesher" means bridge.

Now entering its third year, Gesher is home not only to Jewish meditation classes and daylong retreats aimed at spiritual renewal, it also hosts a monthly interfaith pray-for-peace gathering the first Thursday evening of every month at its University Circle digs. Deliberative and thoughtful, Reiter, who is a music teacher, former psychiatric nurse, Jewish lay leader, onetime Buddhist and mother of three, embodies the heart of Gesher. This semester, Gesher’s faculty numbers seven.

From Reb Nachman’s sage insight, Reiter says, she has learned that "although a bridge can mean connecting one’s life to one’s spirit or community or to people of different faiths, ‘bridge’ has a more fundamental meaning: Life is precarious and the most important thing is not to be afraid and to trust." Reiter calls trust-building a continuous process of "being awake to the present moment" and the divine within it.

Reiter’s holistic outlook spurred her participation beginning in 1999 in a "Compassionate Listening" program in Israel. Aimed at giving full attention to the experiences and feelings of both Jewish-Israelis and Palestinians as they live with unimaginable conflict, the listening tour had a huge impact on Reiter. "I saw with my own eyes and heard with my own ears the tremendous suffering people are feeling," she says. "It’s a human problem as well as a political problem."

After her experiences in Israel, Reiter realized that even in the United States, "we can help people in the Middle East even if we can’t affect politics." She recommends learning about peace-building organizations; becoming informed about the conflict from diverse and multiple sources; for Jews, learning about and healing what has been a historically distressed Jewish spirit; and learning about one’s own biases.

This last bit is the toughest, Reiter says. "Looking seriously at what we carry around is not for the faint of heart," she says.

Reiter knows this firsthand. Listening to Palestinians and Israelis, some of whom she found to be "frightening" in their views, was hard. "It really hurt to open my mind," she recalls.

Reiter is optimistic, however, about the positive results that can come from such arduous self-reflection. "The advantage is once you suffer through it, " she says, "there is an incredible compassion that flows through your self for others."

If all this emphasis on mindfulness and moment-to-moment honesty sounds New Age, it is. And it isn’t. Reiter points out that the concept of singular oneness is central to Judaism, the world’s oldest monotheistic faith. Ancient Jewish teachings address the oneness of God’s name and all creation, and more modern Jewish intellectuals returned to the discussion in the 19th century. In the 1960s, she says, the practice of incorporating meditation into Jewish ritual came into vogue. In the past decade, it’s been "taking off."

Gesher is one of four similar teaching centers across the country, further evidence of the developing trend.

The purpose, says Reiter, is "to bring the inner life into more direct contact with everyday life."