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Globalization and the way Americans learn

I was always very nervous on the first day of school. I remember sitting on the front steps with my backpack, waiting for my carpool to pull up, and having butterflies in my stomach and a lump in my throat. I had the feeling that when I got to school, everything would be different, that whatever place I’d carved out the year before would be gone. It’s funny, because I wasn’t a shy person, particularly, or someone who found school difficult or intimidating, but the transition back was terrifying.

American kids spend more time away from school in the summer than any other children in the world, so much time that it creates two separate modes of existence. There’s a lot of research that shows our summer breaks don’t suit our learning goals, that students practically lose half a year of understanding during the three months they spend away from school. Meanwhile, parents are more often than not both working, and the work days and weeks grow longer. Having to deal with school age kids at home for that length of time gets more and more difficult. Globalization challenges our exceptionalism, forces us to look at who we really are and not who we think we are. We aren’t, in most cases, farmers anymore. Nor do we, mostly, live in small towns. Summers aren’t about catching fireflies in a jar or roving around in feral packs with slingshots and bb guns. They aren’t even really a vacation.

In this week’s feature, administrators, teachers, and students say that creating better schools is about turning them into places people want to be, places to be curious, to learn real world skills, and to find inspiration, not just make grades. Globalization should, as it challenges us, also firm up our confidence in what we do well. Yeah, we need to get better at math and science and our teachers need to be accountable, but testing hasn’t accomplished that. Employers want people who can think critically, solve problems, and write well. You have to be turned on to learn those skills. We’ve always let ambition drive rigor, not fear. More than any time in history, the English language is a competitive advantage, our top-selling export and still the world’s lingua franca. But now you have to understand other languages and cultures to leverage it. Same game, changed.––Giles Morris

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Albemarle residents fight against rural school closures

A recent cost study by a county schools committee has reignited an argument over the value of keeping small rural schools open, and parents are outraged that the Albemarle County School Board might consider closing Yancey and Red Hill elementary schools, forcing kids to commute to Scottsville.

At the July 12 Albemarle County School Board meeting, the Board’s Long Range Planning Advisory Committee presented its findings on necessary school renovations over the next five years. The LRPAC recommended a five-year capital investment improvement plan to the school board, which included spending about $7 million at Yancey for more land, an addition, and a new septic system, HVAC, and roof. LRPAC member Dean Riddick said the committee told the school board “we did not think that was the wisest investment of our money.” The committee also suggested building an addition onto Scottsville Elementary, large enough to accommodate Yancey’s 130 students.

Parents and elected officials saw cause for alarm in the report, and County Supervisor Christopher Dumler arranged a forum last Wednesday at Yancey Elementary School in Esmont, where parents, grandparents, and neighbors packed into the cafeteria to air grievances and formulate a plan.

Dumler is a supporter of the small schools in the county.

“They are, quite honestly, sometimes the only value that taxpayers in rural county areas get,” he said. “We certainly don’t get more police protection, we certainly don’t get more money spent on roads.”

Albemarle County School Board member Eric Strucko shared Dumler’s stance. He said putting off a renovation becomes increasingly more expensive per student “if you’ve let it go for years,” and money saved in the short-term will accumulate over time. He said he was surprised to see the issue crop up again after the resolution of similar arguments. “I supported keeping the small elementary schools open four years ago, and I support it now,” said Strucko.

Albemarle County School Board member Diantha McKeel, who did not attend the Wednesday meeting in Esmont, said the board has approved several projects at Yancey recently, including new cabinets and tile, but tough economic times forced board members to eliminate projects across the county.

“Unless you had a leak in your roof or there was something that was a safety issue for children, most everything was put on hold,” she said. “We certainly have not neglected Yancey. With the downturn in the economy, Yancey was treated just like all the other schools.”

McKeel said she understands why parents are frustrated, and recognizes that Yancey serves a dual role in the area.

“The Albemarle County community, as well as Esmont and Yancey, will have to decide if it is the role of the school district to provide a community center,” she said. “And it may be.”

She said the county has an unusually high number of small schools, and each pupil already costs the county about $1,500 more than those in large schools. In addition, the renovations at Yancey would end up costing about $50,000 per student.

“Certainly that $7 million got our attention,” McKeel said. “We didn’t feel it was a fiscally sound usage of money.”

Despite their concerns about costs, McKeel and Riddick said neither the school board nor the LRPAC discussed closing Yancey or Red Hill.

“We didn’t have the word ‘closing’ in our presentation at all. We made sure we never mentioned the closing of any school,” Riddick said. “Our task was to show the costs of projects for keeping all schools open, which we did.”

McKeel said the Board has several options, but has not yet made a decision.

“If we chose not to spend the $7 million, we could spend a smaller amount of money to do some critical repairs, and certainly the children could stay down there,” she said. “At some point you have to discuss education and taxpayer resources, so I really don’t know until the school board has a discussion about it.”

The Capital Improvement Plan will come to a close next April when the Board of Supervisors approves the budget. In the meantime, members of the Esmont community plan to make it known that they will not support the closing of Yancey or Red Hill. Meeting attendees signed a petition to keep the schools open, and Dumler and Snow encouraged them all to have a presence at meetings and make their voices heard.

Berlinda Mills, a lifelong Albemarle County resident who attended Yancey herself and put three children and six grandchildren through the school, said she is tired of the LRPAC “proving negligence” over the years by postponing improvements and continually discussing school closures. But she said the support of Dumler and Snow gives her hope.

“With our support and them speaking for us, we cannot lose this time,” she said.

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Is Coursera the key to online learning at UVA?

Last week, UVA announced it was the latest university to partner with Coursera, an online learning company started last fall by a pair of Stanford professors. The deal is being presented as a win-win: since no money is exchanging hands, it’s a way for UVA to expand its brand for free, administrators said. But the timing has raised eyebrows, and some faculty want to make sure the University isn’t limiting its options when it comes to online learning.

Coursera made headlines in April, when it announced partnerships with four top-tier universities and a $16 million round of venture capital funding from investors. The news caught the attention of a group of Darden professors already planning a visit to Silicon Valley.

The faculty members decided to drop in at Coursera’s Mountain View headquarters to chat with its Stanford professor founder, Daphne Koller.

They liked what they heard, said Peter Rodriguez, an associate dean and professor of business administration at Darden, including the fact that they were making everything free—University’s didn’t have to pay, and neither did online students.

“They had a positive goal to get as much good knowledge out into the world as possible,” Rodriguez said. And some Darden courses could lend themselves well to Web-based learning, his colleagues thought—the school already offers non-resident programs and courses for current managers that could potentially be taught online. They left the meeting planning to do more research and follow up.

That was June 7. Three days later, UVA announced the sudden departure of President Teresa Sullivan, and online learning quickly became a hot button issue in the debate over the ousted president’s leadership. Both on the record and in private e-mails released under the Freedom of Information Act, Rector Helen Dragas claimed UVA lagged behind its peers when it came to embracing web-based learning, and laid the blame at Sullivan’s feet.

Based on those e-mails and recent comments, it appears neither Dragas nor Sullivan knew faculty were already exploring the option of partnering with Coursera on their own. And, as it turned out, the Darden leaders weren’t alone. Professors from the College of the Arts and Sciences were also calling the company with questions.

Odd coincidence? That’s precisely what Rodriguez says it was. “There was this massive interest in online education which was legitimized when Stanford and Princeton got into it,” he said. Now everybody wants in.

If there was a buzz around online options before Sullivan was forced out, it only got louder once she returned. The faculty already interested in Coursera pooled their efforts and took their findings to central administration. Vice Provost for Academic Programs J. Milton Adams said there was likely pressure to sign on the dotted line last week, because Coursera was preparing to announce its next batch of partner universities.

Now, four faculty members are preparing web-based classes for 2013 on business management, history, philosophy, and physics that they hope will appeal to a broad population.

“This is the way it’s supposed to work,” Adams said. “Faculty members were asking questions and exploring possibilities, and the administration was saying ‘Our job is to help

you, and make this work.’”
William Guildford wants to see that kind of ground-up input continue. Guildford chaired the Faculty Senate’s task force on online education, one of a number of groups assembled last month to examine the financial and leadership concerns cited by Dragas as justification for the ouster. The group released a report the day after the Coursera announcement showing that the use of the Web as an instructional tool is widespread at UVA, with everything from video lectures to full graduate courses offered online.

The new partnership could be a good way to test out one form of Web-based learning, Guilford said, but he doesn’t want to see things end there.

“Focusing down on one model of a set of models is fine if you have evidence it works,” he said. “But online learning is very far from that.”

What UVA needs, he said, is somebody to keep an eye on everybody’s efforts to teach online and track what works best.

“We’re really just looking at a grand experiment,” Guildford said. “You don’t figure these things out without trying them.”

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Common Ground kickstarts fundraising campaign with sit-a-thon

When the Jefferson School City Center opens its doors in January, nine nonprofit tenants with overlapping missions in health and education will share the responsibility of making good on the City’s $5.8 million equity investment in the project. Most of them—like the Jefferson Area Board on Aging (JABA) and Piedmont Virginia Community College—have long track records in the community, but Common Ground Healing Arts is a brand new initiative, aimed at providing broad community access to therapeutic health care through yoga, acupuncture, massage, and meditation.

On Saturday, July 14, Common Ground will host a “sit-a-thon” at the Haven’s sanctuary as part of a fundraising campaign aimed at securing the remaining $80,000 of the $185,000 the organization needs to outfit its space at the Jefferson School. Pat Coffey, senior teacher at Insight Meditation Community and leader of a regular Tuesday night program at JABA, will conduct a two-hour vipassana meditation workshop in return for a donation.

“The goal is twofold: to raise awareness for Common Ground and just have that positive energy focused on the project when everyone gets together and sits in solidarity to say, ‘We support this idea in the community,’” said Common Ground Executive Director Kate Hallahan Zuckerman. “And there’s the fundraising aspect as well.”

Zuckerman, co-founder of the Charlottesville Yoga School, is the driving force behind Common Ground, which is an outgrowth of the Guerilla Yoga Project, a nonprofit she started in early 2009 that offered sliding scale payment for yoga classes as the recession set in.
“I started thinking if my friends, my peers, can’t afford to come to class, how many other people can’t afford it at a time when healing arts practices can be really beneficial?” Zuckerman said. “When stress levels are high, that’s when self care is the last thing people think about and when it’s most important.”

Guerilla Yoga held 15 classes per week at its height, harnessing the talents of yoga instructors from a wide range of practices and traditions. The group added massage and acupuncture to its menu and organized regular free outreach sessions in Southwood Mobile Home Park, Friendship Court Apartments, and Fluvanna Women’s Correctional facility.

The work caught the attention of JABA CEO Gordon Walker, who then helped Zuckerman set up a weekly 20-minute chair massage program at Westhaven Apartments, a major public housing development in the Starr Hill neighborhood. Walker also helped Zuckerman get in touch with the board at the Jefferson School Community Partnership, which was looking for health- and education-focused nonprofits to fill the 80,000 sq. ft. building whose anchor tenants include the African American Heritage Center and the City-run Carver Recreation Center.

“One of the constant themes that kept coming up was how to make this a lifelong learning center, one that can benefit people of all generations,” Walker said. “While learning about the history and culture of the African American community is a main theme to the school, it’s also exposing people to other kinds of things in the community. And Common Ground will bring these treatment modalities that people often don’t have exposure to.”

Dr. Greg Gelburd serves as an advisor to Common Ground board, and his medical practice, Downtown Family Health Care, is located directly across from Friendship Court. Gelburd routinely prescribes acupuncture and massage as complementary treatment methods for conditions like insomnia, hypertension, allergies, and stomach issues—but not all his patients can afford it.

“It’s outside the realm of insurance coverage in this state and in most states in the East, so it’s pricey for people out of pocket,” Gelburd said.

Gelburd believes Common Ground’s location in the Jefferson School alongside Martha Jefferson Hospital’s community outreach clinic will send the broader message that alternative treatments need to be included in mainstream community health initiatives focused on chronic conditions like diabetes and obesity.

Martin Burks, former president of the Jefferson School Community Partnership, and current chairman of the Jefferson School Foundation, is a longstanding business leader in the Starr Hill neighborhood at the J.F. Bell Funeral Home on Sixth Street. Burks said Common Ground will add a new dimension to the center’s range of offerings.

“The approach was that we wanted to excite old and young people. To attract people with a diverse approach to things,” Burks said. “And I think we’ve done that with a broad array of nonprofits offering services there, and I think Common Ground fits perfectly.”

Zuckerman doesn’t feel the need to soft pedal her project. She’s motivated and ambitious and believes yoga, massage, and acupuncture are for everyone.

“Our stated mission is to bring sliding scale healing arts services to the community. A larger vision we have though is that through this avenue people are going to come into contact with people they wouldn’t otherwise come into contact with,” she said. “My ultimate vision is that I’ll have someone from Farmington and someone from Friendship Court and they’re both on their yoga mats and they’re both in my class.”

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Graduates head to colleges thanks to the I Have A Dream Foundation

National Honor Society member Joey Wright will study electrical engineering at Old Dominion University in the fall. (Photo by Nick Strocchia)

If you saw Joey Wright on the Downtown Mall, you probably wouldn’t give him a second look. Just shy of 6′-tall, brown-haired, and wearing the ubiquitous teenage uniform of jeans and a North Face fleece, Wright looks like any other 18-year-old. Take the time to engage him in conversation, and you’d be impressed by his good manners. “Yes, ma’am,” he says with a slight Southern accent when asked if he’s excited about graduating from Charlottesville High School next month. A football and lacrosse player, Wright is a National Honor Society member who smiles frequently and easily and looks you in the eye when he says he’s going to study electrical engineering at Old Dominion University in the fall. What you wouldn’t see is that Joey Wright’s entire life has been a financial struggle.

He lives with his mother, a waitress who earns $2.13 an hour before tips. The pair is close, but he also has a good relationship with his father, an employee at Portsmouth’s Naval Shipyard, where Wright hopes to find a job one day.

This coming weekend, Joey Wright will collect on a promise made to him 12 years ago when, in the fall of 2000, local businessmen Chris Poe and Jeff Gaffney “adopted” Wright—and every other member of his kindergarten class at Belmont’s Clark Elementary School.

Through the I Have a Dream Foundation of Charlottesville, Poe and Gaffney pledged to provide Wright and his classmates with the tools—tutoring, mentoring, counseling, summer school, camps, and enrichment classes—to help them graduate from high school. Students who earned diplomas, said Poe and Gaffney, would be guaranteed the equivalent of in-state public school tuition (currently about $12,000 per year) so they could attend a college, university, or an accredited vocational school.

“It still hasn’t completely set in,” said Wright, who went four-for-four in college acceptance letters. It also hasn’t been easy, but he knew the moment the first “big envelope” arrived in the mail that “it’s been worth it.”

Wright and 45 of his co-“dreamers” will graduate from high school in the coming weeks. Five more are working on GEDs, while another five, who repeated first grade, are on track to graduate next year. Four other students finished high school a year early. All but two of the 62 dreamers will receive a high school diploma in the next year. Compare that to the state graduation average (89.9 percent), and the graduation rate of those whom the Virginia Department of Education deems “economically disadvantaged [high school] completers” (81.8 percent). Ninety-three percent of the dreamers will pursue some type of post-high school education.

Birth of a dream
Chris Poe wasn’t much older than Joey Wright when he was home from college one weekend, and half paying attention to an installment of the long-running CBS newsmagazine “60 Minutes.” When a piece about New York City entrepreneur Eugene Lange, who started the national I Have a Dream Foundation, came on, Poe perked up. “He’s on to something,” Poe thought when he learned that Lange, during a 1981 speech, spontaneously promised a class of poor, Harlem sixth-graders college tuition if they stayed in school and graduated. At the time of the broadcast, Poe “didn’t have two nickels to rub together,” but he filed the information away, hoping to “one day be in a position to try to pull something like that off.”

Fast forward several years, and Poe, now married, a father, and a financial advisor at Northwestern Mutual, began surveying friends, community members, and educators about Charlottesville schools where the children were most in need. Every single person, he recalled, said Clark Elementary, which in the late 1990s—prior to the Belmont housing and restaurant boom—had the highest concentration of poverty in the city, with about 80 percent of its students receiving free or reduced-cost lunches. But before he ran his idea past a single public school official, Poe did some homework of his own, and spent the better part of a year “vetting” the I Have a Dream Foundation. “If I was hitching my wagon [to it], I wanted to make sure it was on the up-and-up and good people were involved.”

In early 2000, Poe made his pitch to then-City Schools Superintendent Bill Symons, who didn’t waste any time in bringing the plan to Art Stow, the principal at Clark.

“My initial reaction was that this is too good to be true,” Stow recalled. And then he thought: “What’s the catch?”

But, he said, “I trusted my superintendent,” who was comfortable with Poe and his vision for I Have a Dream Charlottesville. Good thing, because Stow, now Red Hill Elementary’s principal, had a son, Ethan, in the kindergarten class that was about to be offered the deal of a lifetime.

“It was a miracle,” said Stow, who gets choked up at the memory. “I knew the families so well, and knew that they, like every other family, love and adore their children.” The program gave those families both hope and opportunity, Stow said.

Jeff Gaffney (left) and Chris Poe are about to make good on their promise to pay for the college education of an entire class of Clark Elementary School Students. (Photo by John Robinson)

Once he’d decided on an elementary school, Poe’s next step was to find a partner. Enter Jeff Gaffney, the current chairman and CEO of Real Estate III, who at the 1999 National Association of Realtors convention heard Colin Powell speak about the “importance of business people getting involved in the lives of at-risk youth in the towns and villages where they lived,” Gaffney said. “I was really motivated by that message. It stuck with me, and when I came back to Charlottesville, I started looking around for places where I could help.” A month later, he heard Poe on WINA radio talking about his recently launched I Have a Dream program.

Gaffney, 47 and the father of four, called Poe to tell him he liked what he was doing. Then he asked how he could help. “I thought I could be a board member or something,” he said. But Poe had other ideas. “He put his arm around me and said: ‘We’re going to do this together,’” Gaffney recalled.

That is how, shortly before the start of the 2000-2001 academic year, Gaffney and Poe found themselves calling or visiting the homes of dozens of strangers. Since most of the dreamer families didn’t own computers, it fell to the pair to make telephone or in-person contact to let everyone know about the first I Have a Dream informational meeting, which ultimately attracted 11 people, representing seven or eight dreamers. The parents were dubious.

“They were naturally skeptical. I’m sure they didn’t believe us, and they assumed that after a year or two we were going to leave town,” Poe said.

“Are you kidding me? What do you mean, you’re going to pay for my son to attend college?” was what Maria Rice, Joey Wright’s mother, thought when she heard about I Have a Dream Charlottesville.

Like Principal Stow, she initially considered the offer too good to be true. A single parent whose son has long witnessed her struggle financially, Rice’s voice began to shake, and she was overcome by tears when she recalled, years later, that the two men were dead serious when they made their offer, which has been funded over the years through mostly individual donations, as well as money from the Geismar Family Foundation, United Way of the Thomas Jefferson Area, the Charlottesville Area Community Foundation, the Junior League of Charlottesville, and Bama Works.

“Jeff and I have never had limitless resources, and we were never able to write a $2 million check,” said Poe, who recently turned 48 years old. “We’re just two working guys who have to get up every day”; two guys who had to “beg, borrow, and steal” to support their vision. They haven’t done it entirely on their own, though. “A community of people; a ton of them” have written checks—including some for six-figures—and volunteered their time over the years.

When the program was newly up and running, thanks in large part to a $175,000 grant from Toyota’s U.S.A. Foundation that came after “some creative marketing” was used to convince the organization that Charlottesville is a Washington, D.C., suburb, Poe and Gaffney decided to schedule another parent meeting. This time there was food. And a moon bounce, face painters, and a clown.

“If we could get the kids to come, the parents would come too,” Poe said. The family parties continued over the years, and at each event “we would explain what we were doing, and slowly but surely, they began to trust us. Second grade, third grade, fourth grade, we kept coming back.” When there was a transition—Beth Shapiro, the project’s original coordinator moved, and Erica Lloyd came on board—“we were still around.”

“Sit down with people and break bread, and they eventually come to realize that you’re not a snake oil salesman; that you’re not doing something crazy; that you’re going to do it every day for 12 years,” Gaffney said.

It took a while for that to sink in, he said, but over time not only did the pair convince dreamer parents of their sincerity, they also sold grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. “Extended families would come to the parties, and we’d eat and have amazing conversations and get to know each other.”

The real turning point occurred at a Pantops steakhouse gathering when the kids were in middle school. As Poe updated the parents on the status of their children’s college accounts, “one hand shot up,” he said, and a mother demanded to know exactly how the money was being invested. At first, the successful financial advisor was stunned by the question.
“But I thought about it for two seconds, and realized that it was a great, transitional moment,” he said. “They were now invested in the outcome of the program and wanted to know what was happening. It was kind of an ‘aha’ moment for us and for the parents. They were finally believing.”

Jesse Watson wants to return to Charlottesville and run his own company after he receives an accounting degree from Ferrum College. (Photo by John Robinson)

Reality check
As they got older, dreamers like Charlottesville High School senior Jesse Watson began to believe too. Compactly built with a cautious attitude and a sparkly stud in his ear, Watson said the longer he was in the program, the more he came to appreciate the opportunity.
“It was a chance to better myself. When I knew I’d have help, I actually wanted to go to college,” he said. He also knew he had to “do the homework. And steer clear of trouble.”
An admitted loner who “was kind of slack,” Watson will attend Ferrum College near Roanoke in the fall. He has a dazzling smile, which is on full display when he talks about being the first person in his family to attend college. But he’s quick to share credit for his success with Erica Lloyd who, straight out of UVA’s Curry School of Education, became I Have a Dream Charlottesville’s coordinator in 2002.

“Ms. Lloyd is like a ninja in the trees, watching everybody,” said Watson. She keeps close track of all her dreamers—both in and out of school.

Lloyd, 31, can be found most days behind an always-open yellow door in a large, bright space in the Charlottesville High School library. An entire wall of her office is papered with dreamer college acceptance letters from places like Boston’s Berklee College of Music, George Mason University, Virginia Tech, James Madison University, Virginia Commonwealth University, Lynchburg College, and Virginia State University, to name a few. Over the past decade, she’s worked closely with teachers and staff at Clark, Walker, Buford, and Charlottesville High schools, among others, to assure the dreamers’ success. She’s taken the group on college visits and field trips, and exposed them to successful first-generation university students. She’s in continuous contact with every dreamer’s family, and has made certain each student has received academic support. She’s helped them explore potential careers by teaming them up with real-world mentors. Every student has participated in self-esteem and “healthy habits” seminars, and they have given hundreds of hours back to the community by volunteering at a variety of organizations, including the PB&J Fund, Charlottesville-Albemarle SPCA, the Blue Ridge Area Food Bank, the Alzheimer’s Association, and the Barrett Early Learning Center.

“She definitely kept us on track more than anyone,” Joey Wright said. “She was always in school, always checking in, saying ‘I see you’re getting this grade’ or answering any questions we had. My parents didn’t go to college, and you can only get so much information from Googling, so she was more helpful than anyone.”

After she graduates from college, Amanda Lawhorne hopes to becomes a special education teacher because those students “are closer to God,” she said. (Photo by John Robinson)

Amanda Lawhorne, another senior dreamer, will attend Piedmont Virginia Community College in the fall. Earlier this year, when she began having anxiety attacks and missed several weeks of school, Lawhorne was tempted to drop out and forget about one day becoming a special education teacher. Lloyd, however, delivered her homework and issued pep talks. “I had a rough year, and I know I would have quit school without her,” Lawhorne said. “Ms. Lloyd told me [catching up] would be hard, but I could do it. She’s always made me feel special because she was always there to support me.”

Despite that support, Lloyd admits that the road to graduation has had some bumps. “Everything will be going according to plan, and then something blows up,” she said. “There have been health issues and family issues that have threatened [the students’] ability to continue in school. Every kid has had his own journey; nobody’s sailed straight through. Being a teenager is hard, and some of these kids have made some bad choices.” The bumps in the road have included an arrest for shoplifting, an unplanned pregnancy, and one student who “felt he didn’t deserve to be a dreamer.”

But, as Lloyd says again and again, “Once a dreamer, always a dreamer,” meaning the students cannot be kicked out of the program. No. Matter. What. Because of this, when a kid messes up, Lloyd sees it as her job to help him recognize that there’s value in coming back from it, and to not compound the error and spiral down and down. It is why she refuses to give up on the two dreamers who are currently MIA, and why she continues to try to convince them to resume their studies so they can get a high school diploma. In some ways, it’s her presence and her attitude that have had the single most lasting effect on the dreamers.

“What I do isn’t rocket science,” she said. “It’s just walking alongside of these kids and being involved in their lives.” Lloyd—and the program—remind them “they have a valuable future.”

With many of her dreamers leaving CHS, as well as high schools in Albemarle, Fluvanna, Orange, Louisa, Buckingham, Cumberland, Waynesboro, Prince William, North Carolina, and Hawaii, the obvious question is: What’s next?

“Keeping them in college,” Lloyd answered. “Eighty-nine percent of low-income kids drop out of college in the first year, so we need to make sure our kids are plugged in to the support networks that exist on campus. They have to build that community that they’re going to study with and that will hold them accountable.”

Many of her students, she said shaking her head and smiling, are worried about what will happen to her. “They want to marry me off so I can have babies, but I tell them I’m going to keep track of them. I’ll make a lot of college visits, and I’ll take them out for real dinners.”
As for I Have a Dream Charlottesville’s future, Poe said that for all the program’s success, he and Gaffney will feel “on some level like a little bit of a failure if we don’t replicate ourselves. We’re not going to sponsor another class, but I will forever be an ambassador and a strong advocate for this program.” There is a fundraising donor base in place, and “we will help anyone—individually or collectively—who’s willing to adopt a class,” Poe said.

“We want to make sure this is sustainable, and not something that’s come and gone,” Gaffney added. “We want to find a way to pass the torch. We’ve got the infrastructure, and we’ve paved the way, and now we’re hoping and praying that somebody else will step up and continue what we started.”

On the shelves in Erica Lloyd’s office are 62 white binders. Each one is labeled with the name of a Clark Elementary School kindergartener who in 2000 probably didn’t understand what the term “college educated” meant. Over the years, they’ve all become intimately familiar with those two words. Lloyd has made sure they ring in their heads, alongside 13 words penned by author Robert Collier that she printed out long ago, and hung on her wall as a constant reminder: “Success is the sum of small efforts, repeated day in and day out.”

Erica Lloyd talks about the I Have a Dream Foundation of Charlottesville by C-Ville Weekly on Mixcloud

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Safe Schools initiative assesses bullying problem in local schools; hot button issue sparks national debate

 

(Illustration by Dongyun Lee)

Thirteen-year-old Alexis is a talented singer who reads at an 11th grade
level. She says she wants to go to college and then law school, so she can become a lawyer and “defend people who can’t defend themselves.” Her mother, Samantha, makes sure she frequently tells her daughter that she is both smart and beautiful. But Alexis, a seventh-grader at Buford Middle School, pays more attention to what others say about her. And lots of it is ugly.

“This year has been really hard,” her mom said. “One of the kids’ favorite things to call her is ‘blackneck’ because the pigmentation on her neck is dark. Some nights, Alexis scrubs her neck so hard in the shower that it turns beet red, even though I tell her, ‘That’s your skin tone. You can’t wash that off.’”

According to Samantha, Alexis has been kicked, pushed, and hit while at school. Other students have splashed her with water in the bathroom and many have called her names. After Alexis’ father died in November, the “dead daddy” jokes started, she said, and haven’t stopped.

Were it not for a Buford guidance counselor—“a godsend,” Samantha calls her—who has an open-door policy and is available to Alexis whenever she needs to talk, Samantha’s not sure how her daughter would make it through the school day.

“Being part of the choir has helped a little bit because she gets complimented about her voice. But Alexis is really defensive a lot of the time; she thinks nobody likes her…She has a couple friends, and sometimes they take up for her [when the taunting starts], but a lot of times they are quiet. Or they join in. And then they’re nice to her the next day.”

I’ll be 50 years old this summer, and I still haven’t entirely recovered from a pack of middle school mean girls who made me doubt everything from the brand of jeans I wore to the grape jelly I smeared on my daily PB&J sandwich. Thirty-eight years later, I remember the names of every one of those girls. What I don’t recall, is a single newspaper article or television report about the repercussions of bullying. Nobody talked about a Phoebe Prince or a Tyler Clemente or a Lexi Pilkington, students who have made headlines in recent years when they killed themselves after being pushed to the brink by the brutality of others. In 1974, President Ford was more interested in promoting his “Whip Inflation Now” campaign than in hosting a conference on bullying prevention like the one introduced at the White House in early March by President and Mrs. Obama.

Bully, a recently released documentary that made headlines after it received an R-rating for language, examines the effects of bullying on five different children. (The Weinstein Company)

Bully pulpit
“Have you heard about the group of girls who are being so awful to everyone?” a mother asked me during a sixth-grade volleyball game last month. At a dinner party the following week, a teacher told me that the behavior in an elementary school class had so deteriorated that a high school coach was called in to speak to the students about the importance of working together, about cheering for one another and not rooting for others to fail.

In his review of Bully—a just-released and much-hyped film—New York Times critic A. O. Scott said the “moving and troubling documentary about the misery some children inflict upon others, arrives at a moment when bullying, long tolerated as a fact of life, is being redefined as a social problem.” Yet a March 12 Time magazine article claimed “as painful as bullying can be, and as horrible as its victims’ scars may be, research suggests that the talk of an epidemic may be exaggerated.”

Who’s right? Do we all need to take a deep breath, calm down, and just let “kids be kids”? Or are we really in the thick of a bullying epidemic?

To help figure this out, Albemarle-Charlottesville Safe Schools/Healthy Students administers an annual Peer Support Survey, which allows students in grades four through 12 to anonymously write down the names of those who are possible bullying victims. Counselors talk to children whose names appear multiple times, in hopes of determining if intervention or assistance is needed. By conducting this survey in the fall, “the schools and SS/HS hope to identify students in any potentially harmful situations before [too much of] the school year has gone by,” said Lois Wallenhorst, project coordinator for Safe Schools.

Each spring, the organization also “seeks information about many factors that can affect students’ school performance,” including school safety, relationships with peers, substance abuse, and other risk behaviors, Wallenhorst said. Bullying, according to the survey, is “the use of one’s strength or popularity to injure, threaten, or embarrass another person. Bullying can be physical, verbal, or social. It is not bullying when two students of about the same strength argue or fight.”

After reading that definition, students are asked whether they have been bullied in the past month “never,” “once or twice,” “about once per week” or “several times per week.” In addition, they are questioned about physical, verbal, social, and cyber bullying, as well as where bullying has taken place and whether they have reported it to anyone.

June Jenkins, Albemarle-Charlottesville project director for Safe Schools, said bullying peaks in the late elementary and early middle school years because “as kids mature and develop, anything that’s different can become a target. Size, shape, clothes, mannerisms…anything.” One of the best ways to combat it is for parents to “have a conversation with your children before it happens,” and to be on the lookout “for changes like a drop in grades; a change in attitude; not wanting to do things they used to enjoy; a refusal to ride the school bus. Talk to them. Ask them specific questions…who they sat with at lunch, who they played with during recess.”

According to Jenkins, grown-up supervision should be increased at this age since “typically, bullying happens when adults aren’t around,” which means it often falls to other children to report the abuse. Friends are important because they are frequently the ones who ask for help, and kids need to be taught the difference between snitching and seeking assistance. Self-confidence is another key to bullying prevention. It is “a great shield,” Jenkins added. Confident students are “very comfortable with themselves,” which is unappealing to bullies. Those children are also often “the bystanders who will stand up and defend others; they will know that they should do something to help and protect” a child who is being picked on.
Ignoring a bully may work too because bullies “look for an audience,” Jenkins said. If kids walk away, they aren’t giving the bully the attention or the satisfaction. It’s no longer cool.
The anti-bullying initiatives of organizations like Safe Schools, which was started in 2009 with a four-year, $5.8 million government grant, combined with heightened attention in schools, homes, and the media, may explain a SS/HS report that showed over a two-year period (spring 2009 to spring 2011) the number of students who claim they were bullied at least once in the past 30 days dropped 22 percent in high schools, 16 percent in middle schools, and 6 percent in elementary schools. But the report also indicated that 34 percent of elementary school students, 28 percent of middle school students, and 18 percent of high school students said they had been bullied.

 

“We want our students to want to come to school,” said Victoria Megginson, a teacher and the anti-bullying coordinator at Jack Jouett. (Photo by John Robinson)

Net flicks
It’s an unseasonably warm Monday in March, and Jack Jouett Middle School principal Kathryn Baylor is pissed off. A fight broke out earlier in the afternoon, and Baylor has just come from an impromptu meeting with the irate mother of one of the children involved in the contretemps. But it’s not the fight—or even a livid, shouting parent—that’s rattled Baylor. She’s angry with the students who didn’t look for an adult to intervene and put a stop to the dust-up. Instead, they watched, cheered, and recorded the incident on their cell phones. And then, quicker than anyone could say “Friend me,” they posted it on Facebook, where it immediately received dozens of “Likes.”

Baylor demanded that the episode be removed from Facebook, which, to her relief, it was. “These are good kids, but all the Internet stuff has taken up most of our worlds now,” she said, looking down at her new silver Apple computer that she admitted she’s still figuring out.
According to a recent Associated Press-MTV poll on Internet behavior, more than half of 1,355 teenagers and young adults surveyed (56 percent) said they have been harassed or bullied online. That’s up from 50 percent in 2009.

“The tools are so different now,” Jenkins admitted. “When we were kids we could get away from it. Now it can follow children into their homes and their bedrooms.” Added Wallenhorst: “Those situations can have a lasting impact on kids’ feelings about school, their self-esteem and worth, not to mention their ability to achieve and be successful at school.”

As part of the It Gets Better Project, a nationwide anti-bullying campaign, the University of Virginia’s Lesbian Gay Bisexual Transgender (LGBT) Resource Center is using the Internet in a positive way with a four-and-a-half minute video in which older students and UVA faculty remind younger kids that their lives really will improve. “High school and middle school are pretty tough to deal with for pretty much everybody,” University of Virginia freshman Joe Leonard says on the video. “But it’s even harder if you’re a member of the LGBT community…You think [the abuse] is going to go on forever, but it’s not” he promised, thanks to the resources at places like UVA, and the awareness of its faculty, staff, and students.

“The older we get, the better and the stronger we get,” said Ed Warwick, coordinator of the University’s LGBT Resource Center, which has held panels at Charlottesville, Fluvanna, and Tandem schools, among others, aimed at helping teachers and guidance counselors be “supportive of people on their journey of development.” Warwick admitted that the It Gets Better video may not change everyone’s life, “but if a high school student finds it, and she feels better on a bad night” then it’s done its job. Bullying isn’t just being pushed or called a name, and it doesn’t go away—even when you’re an adult, he said. “But it’s important to not feel afraid to ask for help. If folks aren’t reporting these things, then how can we help? We all have the responsibility to make things better.”

 

According to Jack Jouett Middle School Assistant Principal Steve Saunders, bullying is often “overt,” but not always as obvious as other behaviors, which “can be a tough thing for an 11-year-old to figure out.” (Photo by John Robinson)

Point of access
“My nightmare scenario is one in which we don’t get to a student in time after we’ve heard about a suspected bullying incident, and then the bullying continues, and the student ends up feeling less empowered,” said Steve Saunders, Jack Jouett Middle School assistant principal. “The student had a voice, he or she tried to get help from an adult, but then nothing happened. That’s a devastating scenario.”

The key to preventing this, Saunders said, is “multiple access points,” meaning a student might feel comfortable first talking to the school nurse or a bus driver or a teacher or a coach. Somebody who will then give that information to administrators and/or school counselors who are trained to deal with the problem, and who can pursue it further and work with both the victim and the bully. “This is particularly important with suspected incidents of bullying because it allows [school officials] to track patterns of behavior,” he said.
But “discipline in middle school is often gray,” Saunders added. “Bullying can sometimes be very overt, but sometimes it is not as obvious as other behaviors.” Hitting someone “is certainly mean—and unacceptable—but it may not necessarily be bullying. That can be a tough thing for an 11-year-old to figure out. At the end of the day, our job is to teach students the skills to handle these situations responsibly.”

Victoria Megginson, a language arts teacher and Jouett’s anti-bullying coordinator, recalled a recent effective and eye-opening moment when Deputy Commonwealth’s Attorney Darby Lowe spoke to students about the legal consequences of bullying. Students learned from Lowe that some of the actions they think are a joke—threatening language or texts or e-mails—could land them in a heap of trouble.

Jack Jouett Middle School is “a good place to be,” Megginson said. “We as teachers are happy to be here, and, for the most part, the kids are too. But we’re always looking for things we can do to make our kids feel comfortable. We want them to want to come to school.”

“We’re not perfect,” Saunders added. “You can have all of the structure in place and be proactive, but you certainly can’t predict or control everything.” Sometimes, “we miss things and we make mistakes. But if a really reticent sixth-grader is being bullied and he knows he can trust somebody, that there’s somebody at school who will help him, and we encourage him to share with an adult what is happening…then we can work with him and we can address the problem in an appropriate way. After that, usually the bullying will stop, and the victim knows that he stood up for himself.”

Seventh-grade Alexis tries to stand up for herself every day, according to her mother, who said she has no idea why her daughter first became a target a couple years ago, while a student at Walker Upper Elementary School. Samantha initially “thought this was a phase, and it would stop, but it hasn’t. I’ve gone through a lot of guilt about not doing enough to help my daughter. I’ve cried because I don’t know how to help her.”

Alexis said she struggles to understand why some of her peers “think it is O.K. to pick other people apart. They go home and forget about the mean things they say and do, but I think about them all night and dread the next day and what’s to come.” But like the students in the UVA video, Alexis said she knows “it will get better.”

Maybe as soon as next fall, when she’ll attend a different middle school. In the meantime, her mother continues to “constantly remind her that ‘you can’t let [the bullies] win.’ I tell her to focus on her school work; that someday she will be someone, and that will be the best revenge.”

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Greg Thomas wins hearts, trophies at Albemarle High School

From where he stands on the Albemarle High School football stadium bleachers, band director Greg Thomas has a good view of about 80 teenage musicians. Gathered in a haphazard semicircle on the track below, the Marching Patriots have just completed their final run-through of “Pursuing Red,” a show they first clumsily attempted at the beginning of August, when temperatures soared into the mid-90s and Band Camp ran daily from noon to 10pm.

(Photo by Ash Daniel)

The sweltering summer heat is history. Ten-hour days gave way long ago to 20-hour workweeks. “Pursuing Red,” now a well-oiled machine, will be performed for the last time tonight at the Virginia State Championships near Richmond.

Before sending his students off to scarf down bagels, crank up Cee Lo Green’s “Forget You,” and dress for the competition, Thomas has something to say: “You never learn anything—anything—until you try to teach it to someone. As bossy as I am, I am constantly surprised by how wrong I am about everything…how much I enjoy learning from you. How much I learn about marching band, about people, about all kinds of things.”

Since it’s the last time the band’s seniors will be together on their home field, Thomas singles out each of them to share what he’s gleaned during their time together. Patience, loyalty, leadership, determination, kindness, artistry, being your own person, and smiling through adversity are on the list, as is shoe design, cake-baking, and “a throw-it-out-there-and-try-anything kind of attitude from one of the quietest guys I know.”

“It’s been an awesome ride. Thank you,” Thomas says in closing. “Now say, ‘You’re welcome.’”

“You’re welcome,” they dutifully respond, some wiping away tears. And then they quickly remind Thomas of a few nuggets he’s passed along to them: how to clean up the band room; the importance of being on time; to dress appropriately; and, finally, a willingness to do anything for free food.

Big band theory
On most mornings, I have a better chance of scoring a date to the SPCA Critter Ball with Justin Timberlake than I do of getting my teenager out the door on time. “Wait!” she’ll shriek, as I put the car in reverse. Then she hops out, runs back inside, up the stairs, and into her bedroom to hunt for her tennis shoes. Or maybe she’s neglected to brush her teeth. Or feed the fish. Once we’re finally en route, she groans and sighs and rolls her big brown eyes because, having left 10 minutes later than planned, we’re stuck behind a school bus that repeatedly stops to pick up passengers on the long and winding Earlysville Road.

Greg Thomas warms up the Marching Patriots before they take the field to perform their half-time show at the final Albemarle High School home football game of the season. (Photo by Nick Strocchia)

From the end of August through November, however, that same 15-year-old can be found impatiently waiting in the car when I walk out the front door at 7 a.m. She, like every member of the “100 percent volunteer marching band” at Albemarle High School, has read, and takes seriously, the fine print in the written agreement Thomas presented to her on her first day of Band Camp. My daughter understands that “being late to, or cutting rehearsals is a slap in the face to the band and to our musical ambitions.”

The marching band, like all the other teams at AHS, is highly ambitious. But unlike the football or soccer squads, every member of this team is required to play every minute of every competition. They’re all on the field 100 percent of the time. No substitutions. No time-outs. If someone is late or missing, not only will it potentially derail the show, it can also discombobulate the sousaphone player next to you.

When my daughter read that her “attendance at rehearsals is the single most vital part of our preparation, grade and success,” she knew the guy who wrote it meant business. That’s where the unit starts, with that shared sense of responsibility.

Early on a recent overcast and chilly Thursday morning, bleary-eyed band members hoisted nine 3′ tall, hand-painted drums onto a wooden trailer hitched to a red and blue ATV with a lead-footed snare-drummer at the wheel. A large rolling cart was carefully piled with bass drums, cymbals and a tom-tom. Marimbas, xylophones, chimes, congas, and a kettledrum were rolled out of the band room door, past a football stadium and tennis courts, up a hill and into a parking lot. Dozens of musicians, carrying at least one instrument each, followed closely behind.

Eight hours later, they did it all again.

As they made their way up the same hill for their second rehearsal of the day, a freshman on drumline told a couple of flag-carrying members of the color guard, “I won’t know what to do with myself next week” when marching band ends. “I’ll get a lot more sleep,” he said. “But I’ll have to start riding the bus again.”

All the chatter ceased, and the band fell quickly into formation, when Elaine Golden, one of three drum majors, raised her arms and shouted, “Marching band warm-up!” She counted to eight, directing the band through a series of scales as they marked time.

Saxophonist Brian Brown stands at attention while waiting for the signal to strike up the national anthem. (Photo by Nick Strocchia)

“Forward! Backward! Halt!” yelled Golden when Thomas, a lanky, bespectacled 53-year-old, pulled up on a red bicycle. He dismounted, climbed into the basket of a scissor lift and pushed the “up” button. Twenty feet above the band, he picked up a microphone, and said, “For the next two hours, we’re going to work our butts off. Let’s take it from the top…”

The top to which Thomas referred was the beginning of “Nachos,” the band’s nickname for “Tapestry of Nations and Chaos,” the first of four songs that comprise this year’s show, a byzantine production of stop-and-goes, jam-outs, corners and curves on which the group’s been working its collective butt off during hundreds of rehearsals over three-and-a-half months.

“You’ve already decrescendoed at the beginning of the decrescendo,” Thomas scolded the trumpet section. “It takes 10 beats to get to where you were at beat two. If you want to get better, this is where it lives, in these details. Don’t drop that phrase so early. Musically, the difference between a score of 94, and where we want to get, is very difficult. Don’t give up; you can do it.”

Worst to first
Winning, to paraphrase Gordon Gekko, is good. But winning as often as Albemarle High’s Marching Patriots do is worth its weight in gold (and silver)—as evidenced by row after row of trophies, displayed on nearly every flat surface in the band room. Several best-in-show awards have been added to the shelves this year, and the band has earned a coveted “Superior” rating and re-claimed the Jefferson Classic championship trophy, a bust of Thomas Jefferson, which immediately went missing. But that’s another story. And Thomas isn’t in it for the hardware anyway.

“I’ve been on the winning side, and I’ve been on the losing side,” he said one Friday afternoon while washing dishes at a sink in his cramped office, one wall of which is inexplicably papered with a trail of food photos cut from Lean Cuisine boxes. “Competition is artificial, it’s not the point.”

Freshman drummer Konnor Roeloffs marches on. (Photo by Nick Strocchia)

Collaboration, he added, is what really matters, and “after four years, I want these kids to look back and think this was a place where they were nurtured and grew and learned about themselves and achieved what they thought they couldn’t achieve.”

In 1993, when Thomas arrived at AHS after eight years as the band director at Walton Middle School, things were pretty sparse in the achievement department. “A disaster. Horrible,” is how James Tobin, a senior at Albemarle High that year, described it. “We were on our third band director in three years, and we were bad. Greg was hired a few weeks before school started, and there was no show plan in place. There was no real pride in place, either. Greg started with nothing.”

According to Tobin, now a music teacher who played in the Virginia Tech marching band, the AHS band didn’t amount to much that first year.

When asked about building the program from nothing, Thomas, a Virginia Commonwealth University grad who plays most instruments, including trombone with Big Ray and the Kool Kats, smiled, and said, “I don’t think of myself as having a really good work ethic. But I was doing something I really liked, something I found joyful. The kids knew then and they know now that I care about them. And if the kids trust you, you can get them to do anything.”

Maddie Pericak, a senior and baritone section leader, explained that dynamic from a student’s perspective: “We’re taught from the beginning that we’re the ones who have to strive to be better. It’s not our directors who will make us better, it’s up to us. It’s empowering,” she added. “You won’t find anything like it anywhere else.”

Mentoring new marchers who are invariably overwhelmed by the impossible-seeming task of learning more than 100 pages of difficult music and complicated drill, is another responsibility of the band’s veteran members. “It’s the older kids’ job to be nice to the younger kids and share their skills,” Thomas said. “I constantly remind them that when they were beginning marchers, they had their own monumental struggles. They all know leadership isn’t just relegated to the official leader.”

Trumpet section leader Emily Kuhn found herself responsible for more newbies than usual at the start of this year’s Band Camp. She admitted that, while initially somewhat daunted, she came out of the experience stronger and wiser. “If you can play an instrument while walking or running,” and keeping 18 trumpeters pointed in the right direction, both physically and musically, “sitting down and playing seems pretty easy,” Kuhn said.

Sitting down is something Greg Thomas, perpetually in-motion, rarely does. In addition to instructing the Marching Patriots, Thomas conducts four other Albemarle High bands and teaches a guitar class. A father of three, Thomas is married to a teacher and the son of the one-time head of VCU’s music department. He learned to play the trumpet before he learned to talk. But when he left home for college he was certain of one thing: “I wasn’t going to be in music or go into teaching. I was going to carve out my own thing. Obviously, I failed,” he said happily, adding that it didn’t take long for him to figure out that playing and teaching music “was fun. Every second.”

Well, maybe not every second, which was clear back at the AHS parking lot rehearsal, where he chastised some of his percussionists for their lack of enthusiasm. “You look like your birthday party just got canceled…by your parents,” he said, before acknowledging that it had been a very long day. “I know you can give me 30 more minutes of energized performance.”
So they did, beginning with the baritone horn solo that opens “Baba Yetu,” Christopher Tin’s irresistibly joyful Grammy Award-winning composition, and the third number in the show. The solo became a duet, and four senior trumpeters and a piccolo player joined the baritones up front. With their instruments at their sides, and the marching band for back-up, the seven-some belted out Baba Yetu’s Swahili lyrics: “Baba yetu, yetu uliye/Mbinguni yetu, yetu, amina/Baba yetu, yetu, uliye/Jina lako litukuzwe…”

As the singers resumed their marching, an observer’s eye traveled to members of the award-winning drumline, who raised large, padded mallets. In perfect unison, they came down on the nine student-painted drums. Soon, they were throwing their entire bodies into it, and, mallets flying, they kept the African beat by playing not only on their own drums, but also the ones next to them.

Gregory Lewis, a former percussionist with the Marching Patriots who’s now at the University of Virginia, pointed out that “so many activities emphasize leadership, but marching band [also] teaches how to follow, how to take criticism from directors, section leaders and judges and turn it into something productive.” An engineering student, Lewis plays the MalleKATs in the Cavalier Marching Band, and credits Thomas—“one of those teachers who genuinely wants his students to succeed, not only in his classes, but in [everything]; in life in general”—with showing him “how to win graciously and lose with respect,” and “to make sure that you love what you end up doing.”

The show must go on
Though one more “Pursuing Red” performance remained, Thomas and Craig Jennings, chorus director at Burley Middle School and the marching band’s assistant director and visual coordinator for the past 14 years, were already discussing next year’s show. “We pick the coolest music we can find,” Thomas said. “The craziest stuff. Craig will write a ridiculous drill, and then we’ll try to marry the music to it. The kids will knock themselves out to surmount the challenge.” They start in August, he said, by “biting off small chunks. A little bit of drill with a little bit of music. Then we repeat it a couple hundred times, kind of like building a skyscraper. Tiny step by tiny step, with lots of moving parts.”

Because it’s so physically demanding, Thomas said marching band “is distinct from other musical things. Since they’re laying out an enormous amount of energy and time, the kids who make a commitment to it take a real leap of faith in their instructors. So our plan better work—and I don’t mean trophies; I mean it better come together and be something they can be proud of.”

In addition to Thomas and Jennings, three other instructors keep the band in step: percussion arrangers Andrew LaPrade and Will Muncaster, and color guard choreographer Chris Sirard. Then there’s Donna Robertson. A 1981 AHS graduate and professional instrument repair technician, Robertson is never far from two heavy cases that, in addition to a wide array of parts and tools, hold a mouthpiece for every instrument. According to Thomas, she was waiting in the band room on his first day at Albemarle High. “I’m here to help,” he recalls her telling him. “For how long?” he asked, expecting her to say a day or maybe, if he was lucky, the entire week. “As long as you stay,” she responded.
Nearly 20 years in, and neither of them have any intention of leaving anytime soon.

It’s well past midnight, and, after returning from Richmond with more trophies to add to their collection, the exhausted musicians of the AHS band are waiting to be officially dismissed from the band room. They’ve turned in their 20-year-old, tattered and yellowed-from-too-much-wear uniforms (a fundraiser is currently underway to raise money for 100 new uniforms at a cost of about $500 each). Lydia Bock, a sophomore flugelhorn player, is near tears and slumped against Tim Wersinger, a senior trumpeter. When asked a couple days later about her mood, Bock’s eyes welled up again. She struggled to explain her feelings, and finally blurted out: “It’s that we work so hard, and then it all just ends.”

Until next August. When temperatures will more than likely hit the mid-90s. And Greg Thomas will certainly grab his microphone, and, from the basket of his scissor lift high above the band, tell the Marching Patriots to “take it from the top.”