Those Moments
Many “life-long learners” vividly remember the time when learning became a joyous wonder.
That moment for me came late in high school. At sixteen, a sudden switch of domicile was the prelude. I came from New York City to visit my mother in Philadelphia for Easter break. She missed me so much, she kept me. That meant we had to find a school for me. I had been a drama student at Julia Richman’s “Talented Unlimited” program in New York, so Mom hustled to arrange an audition at Philadelphia High School for Creative and Performing Arts, or “CAPA” as it’s more affectionately dubbed.
This is the same CAPA that is the petri dish for astonishing, mostly home-grown talent the likes of Boyz II Men; Jazmine Sullivan; Black Thought and Questlove of the famous musical group, The Roots—the house band on The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon on NBC; Grammy-winning bassist Christian McBride, film producer Terrance Bankole; jazz organist Joey DeFrancesco; and Leslie Odom Jr. star to name a few. We got the audition and I got in. I won my seat.
At that time, there was no other citywide, public arts high school in Philly. And because it was a unique, audition-admittance school, other eager kids were biding time for their shot to get in. I heard the school had a long waiting list. A lackluster student before winning admission; I was genuinely concerned about the potential of losing my seat. But my fears of flunking out quickly subsided in that exhilarating environment.
It was a small school with cool vibes and an integrated student body. I’d walk the halls and see dancers in leotards; guys toting video equipment; kids twirling drumsticks or paint brushes; catch girls singing runs in trios, duos, and solos in the bathroom; and hear exciting talk of students who nabbed auditions for network “Afterschool Specials” and commercials.
My first spring there, all scheduled classes were suspended for one day to celebrate William Shakespeare’s birthday with a concert, a vignette from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and other creative treats only a school of that caliber would dare do. I soaked up the environment like a sponge, and in my soaking and my vow to keep my seat, I began to study—I mean seriously study.
I gorged on history and art in Sue Rosenthal’s humanities course, bathed in the glories of angles in Mr. Bosco’s geometry class—the only math class I ever loved. At CAPA, the kindled interest I already possessed for art, words, language, and theatrics was set ablaze.
In Ms. Pridgett’s English class, accosted by the suspense-ridden readings of Hamlet and Macbeth, and even with the difficult rhythm in reading these world-famous pieces of classical literature, I devoured them. Ms. Pridgett helped break the texts down in ways that were accessible for students to both enjoy and covet. And my love for class readings transferred to the plays I consumed in Jare Sausman’s drama class.
Sausman’s classroom was electric, mostly because it wasn’t a classroom—it was a set fit for acting with a mini stage, a sofa, student chairs, costumes, and props—gadgets used to bring all kinds of scenes to life. He gave us kids the thrill of a lifetime when he insisted we simply refer to him on a first name basis, just “Jare.” He made us feel like real actors.
My senior year was the only time I ever made the honor roll. And I made it partly because of teaching that thrilled me—teaching that stoked excitable learning. Now that I am a teacher, I strive to replicate this “art” and create those moments of learning that people never forget.
