ONE PERSON CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE
BUILDING CHAMPIONS
Winning has always meant much to me, but winning friends has meant the most. (Babe Zaharias)
When looking back over forty one years of teaching, there are many things that bring a sense of accomplishment and pride. The great majority of those memories center on the actual “art of teaching” in a classroom. The events and students in those many classrooms will always be a part of who I am as a person and educator. However, as in all of our lives, there are times that just stick out as being extra special. It is a strange and “twisty” tale of my extra special memory. Let me begin at the beginning.
In 1975, I was one of the few single female teachers at Cypress-Fairbanks High School. The principal, Mr. Watkins, was looking for a cheerleading “sponsor.” I was a fairly popular teacher, overly enthusiastic about the Bobcats, worked with the band on the side as a private music teacher, and just had my fingers in every little pie on campus. So, whom did he turn to to “sponsor” the cheerleaders? Me, of course! I basically had zero knowledge about what these girls did and frankly had the typical band “kid’s” disdain for the girls who shook their pom poms J However, being the “goody two shoes” I was at the time, I took the job. The first few years, I truly was a sponsor. Knew nothing much, and actually, did nothing much but chaperone. When CFISD started allowing the girls to go to camp in the late 70’s, I had to accompany them. With nothing else to do on a college campus, I began attending sessions for sponsors and watched the really good groups of cheerleaders. Their sponsors were doing more than I was and were winning everything. The band geek came out and I wanted to win everything. I wanted my group to be the best. Over the course of the next four years, I acquired a great deal of expertise on what it took to have an effective cheerleading squad. I was inching away from sponsor towards , dare I say it, coach! From my knowledge gained at Cy-Fair High School, I was recruited to become the cheer coach (yes recruited as a coach) to little Tomball High School.
Tomball High School was the one high school of a very small town 20 miles north of Houston. This was during a time when there were no freeways in that direction, so the little town still bore all the characteristics of a small Texas, semi-isolated/rural community. From 1984 to 1988 I began making significant changes to their cheerleading program. (That process is an entire book). By 1987, we had stepped into the nascent world of cheerleading competition. The cheer world realized the money and recognition that could be made by moving beyond camp competition into the state and national stage. It was a time when ESPN was opening up other athletic type activities to the world of cable television. Remember the times…this was all brand new. The girls of Tomball High School were, that year, hard working, physically sturdy, and I knew just enough about cheerleading that we went to our first nationals competition after qualifying by winning our camp. This type of competition requires a two to three minute “routine” showing all the aspects of cheerleading. From my circle of immediate peers, I pieced together a routine that looking back was fairly crude. Bless those girls. They poured their hearts and bodies into making a “sow’s ear into a silk purse.” We were doing the best we knew how. WE go to nationals in Nashville where we make the Top Ten! Seriously, I still don’t know how we did it. And, there were over 75 squads in our competitive group—all girl squad, 12 members and over. As the competition ended, I am sitting on the arena floor waiting for the crowds to clear. At the time, we were happy. Top Ten was great! We would make the “Tomball Potpourri,” the local newspaper. As I sat there, a tall, handsome, well-dressed African –American male approached me. I can still see that he had on a cool hat. He stands in front of me and introduces himself (actually reintroduces himself), “Hi, I am Tommy Amico.” “I worked with your Cy-Fair girls at camp.” WOW! I did remember Tommy. He had recruited Karen M., one of my favorite CFHS girls, to teach summer camps and they were fast friends. Tommy had been working the nationals that week. He sat down beside me and said confidently, “Call me when you are ready to win this thing.”
Spring comes, new cheerleading squad, and my principal asks me what it would take to win the nationals. He had a flair for knowing that these things, while not the most important in the scheme of school, would help get Tomball High School noticed. He said what would be the number one thing I would need to win. I did not hesitate one minute. I said “Let me hire a choreographer! And, let me hire Tommy Amico from Kansas City, Missouri.” We went through the usual how much, how long, etc. I contacted Tommy, agreements were made, and I scheduled his arrival at THS for two weeks in August to prep the girls for the routine he would create. The day arrives. Early morning on campus. Drill team is practicing, Student Council is there doing something, football players are milling, cheerleaders are waiting, and in walks a 6’ black man! Please understand…this was a school of 90% white students. The African-American students we had, as a rule, were very poor, still living in segregated areas outside the main part of town. The African-American students we had that were involved played football and maybe basketball. They did NOT come in dressed cheerleading workout gear ready to teach, “gasp,” dance! The girls were both in shock and in awe. They knew from nationals that this guy “knew cheerleading,” but he was different. However, like most students, they gave him the benefit of the doubt from day one. Kids are like that.
He pulls out his work out tape, places it in the cassette, and immediately begins doing simple dance moves to R and B . He was moving his hips folks, in rhythm to the music. These girls knew country western line dancing…but this? Seriously…move our hips like this? Will the Lutheran Church allow this? Please understand there was absolutely nothing lurid about the moves, but boy were they different. Patiently for two days these white bread girls began to get a sense of what was to come. Step by step, arm motion by arm motion, stunt by stunt, the three minute routine came together in rough draft form. They went home exhausted, stinky, and back early the next morning. As the routine began to take shape, the milling students began to stand and watch for hours this man work with these girls. The drill team even got a little “snarky.” Cheerleaders don’t dance and certainly not with the latest music. Tommy would refine, retune, and edit our routine over the course of the next four months. He became a fixture around the campus as he would fly in for super long weekends or even a week. Once the routine was completed, he would come to school dressed like a professional businessman. Quietly, the African-American students began to walk up to him, ask him his name, what he was doing at THS, and where was he from? As we would prepare for workout, he would be surrounded by these students carrying on conversations. By now, my cheerleaders would get jealous because he was “their Tommy” brought to town for them. As December approached, it was decided that Tommy would come to Tomball and fly out with us on the way to Nashville. He would be with us every step. WE flew in, we competed, and came in SECOND! Whoa, what a leap in placement. We made the front pages of the “Potpourri” and the “1960 Sun.” That spring, same conversation with the principal. Negotiate with Mr. Amico, as my principal called him. No other choreographer was considered. July, 1988, Mr. Amico Goes to Tomball for SIX weeks! He stays at my house (gasp), shops in Tomball, tries to find a place to do “his hair,” comes up on campus where people begin to recognize him and call him by name. He eats lunch with the girls and visits with the African-American students who gravitate to him. He crafts a show stopping routine. He even takes our uniform tailor to the fabric store to hunt for the right material. She even makes him two custom suits while he is there! December arrives. Round Two, Quest for Nationals, Leave for Nashville, and this time we have a plane load of parents, community members, school board members, and our entire TISD administration. Not kidding. Had the plane crashed, the head custodian would have been in charge J As we prepare for the competition, I see these various people talking to Tommy on the side, asking his opinion of our chances, laughing with him about my quirks, and on and on. He moves between the various girls saying just the right thing. He keeps me calm. Not only had Tommy prepared the entire squad for this moment, he had worked with the five girls who had been chosen at camp to participate in the individual competitions. He created cheers and dances for them at no charge. He coached them and gave them just what they needed.
December 1989!
THS CHEERLEADERS WIN NATIONAL TITLE!
Individuals Capture 1, 2, 3, and 5th with $27,000.00 Cash Prizes
We made the front page of the “Potpourri,” “The Sun,” and the Lifestyle section of the “Houston Chronicle.” We were on “Good Day Houston” morning program. This put little Tomball on the map alright. We would repeat this performance again the following year including the individual placements. We would come in third the next because frankly we could not win that year. We had taken all the trophies and the money. J But these accomplishments pale in comparison to the real result. In this context of something that many folks perceive to be a silly activity depicted in the movie “Bring it On (parts I and II)” was the forging of lifelong lessons in human relationships.
A world of long established preconceived notions was suddenly more open to change and acceptance of others “not like us.” As a teacher, Tommy Amico taught me more than I can type in this essay about African-American literature, music, cooking, ways of thinking, and friendship. This white “under tall for her weight” Texas school teacher suddenly became more aware of the needs of her students of any color. I now had ways to relate to them that gave my teaching real relevance and importance. For once, I was able to connect and make a difference to all of my students, not some of my students. I began to, in earnest, pursue ways to deepen these connections. Thanks to Tommy Amico I took a six week Humanities seminar at the University of Virginia in African-American literature. And Culture. I witnessed girls’ lives be changed for the better because he came into their world. He pushed them to be better athletes. He gave comfort to those who struggled with all types of issues. He chastised those who felt it was their “right” to do certain things in relation to the squad. He spoke of moral and ethical behavior, not just getting that flip-flop timed perfectly. And, when he got on that plane for what would be the last time heading off to Kansas City there were a bunch of tears. I am not discounting my part in this process; however, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Tommy Amico changed lives in that small town in Texas.
BUILDING CHAMPIONS
Winning has always meant much to me, but winning friends has meant the most. (Babe Zaharias)
When looking back over forty one years of teaching, there are many things that bring a sense of accomplishment and pride. The great majority of those memories center on the actual “art of teaching” in a classroom. The events and students in those many classrooms will always be a part of who I am as a person and educator. However, as in all of our lives, there are times that just stick out as being extra special. It is a strange and “twisty” tale of my extra special memory. Let me begin at the beginning.
In 1975, I was one of the few single female teachers at Cypress-Fairbanks High School. The principal, Mr. Watkins, was looking for a cheerleading “sponsor.” I was a fairly popular teacher, overly enthusiastic about the Bobcats, worked with the band on the side as a private music teacher, and just had my fingers in every little pie on campus. So, whom did he turn to to “sponsor” the cheerleaders? Me, of course! I basically had zero knowledge about what these girls did and frankly had the typical band “kid’s” disdain for the girls who shook their pom poms J However, being the “goody two shoes” I was at the time, I took the job. The first few years, I truly was a sponsor. Knew nothing much, and actually, did nothing much but chaperone. When CFISD started allowing the girls to go to camp in the late 70’s, I had to accompany them. With nothing else to do on a college campus, I began attending sessions for sponsors and watched the really good groups of cheerleaders. Their sponsors were doing more than I was and were winning everything. The band geek came out and I wanted to win everything. I wanted my group to be the best. Over the course of the next four years, I acquired a great deal of expertise on what it took to have an effective cheerleading squad. I was inching away from sponsor towards , dare I say it, coach! From my knowledge gained at Cy-Fair High School, I was recruited to become the cheer coach (yes recruited as a coach) to little Tomball High School.
Tomball High School was the one high school of a very small town 20 miles north of Houston. This was during a time when there were no freeways in that direction, so the little town still bore all the characteristics of a small Texas, semi-isolated/rural community. From 1984 to 1988 I began making significant changes to their cheerleading program. (That process is an entire book). By 1987, we had stepped into the nascent world of cheerleading competition. The cheer world realized the money and recognition that could be made by moving beyond camp competition into the state and national stage. It was a time when ESPN was opening up other athletic type activities to the world of cable television. Remember the times…this was all brand new. The girls of Tomball High School were, that year, hard working, physically sturdy, and I knew just enough about cheerleading that we went to our first nationals competition after qualifying by winning our camp. This type of competition requires a two to three minute “routine” showing all the aspects of cheerleading. From my circle of immediate peers, I pieced together a routine that looking back was fairly crude. Bless those girls. They poured their hearts and bodies into making a “sow’s ear into a silk purse.” We were doing the best we knew how. WE go to nationals in Nashville where we make the Top Ten! Seriously, I still don’t know how we did it. And, there were over 75 squads in our competitive group—all girl squad, 12 members and over. As the competition ended, I am sitting on the arena floor waiting for the crowds to clear. At the time, we were happy. Top Ten was great! We would make the “Tomball Potpourri,” the local newspaper. As I sat there, a tall, handsome, well-dressed African –American male approached me. I can still see that he had on a cool hat. He stands in front of me and introduces himself (actually reintroduces himself), “Hi, I am Tommy Amico.” “I worked with your Cy-Fair girls at camp.” WOW! I did remember Tommy. He had recruited Karen M., one of my favorite CFHS girls, to teach summer camps and they were fast friends. Tommy had been working the nationals that week. He sat down beside me and said confidently, “Call me when you are ready to win this thing.”
Spring comes, new cheerleading squad, and my principal asks me what it would take to win the nationals. He had a flair for knowing that these things, while not the most important in the scheme of school, would help get Tomball High School noticed. He said what would be the number one thing I would need to win. I did not hesitate one minute. I said “Let me hire a choreographer! And, let me hire Tommy Amico from Kansas City, Missouri.” We went through the usual how much, how long, etc. I contacted Tommy, agreements were made, and I scheduled his arrival at THS for two weeks in August to prep the girls for the routine he would create. The day arrives. Early morning on campus. Drill team is practicing, Student Council is there doing something, football players are milling, cheerleaders are waiting, and in walks a 6’ black man! Please understand…this was a school of 90% white students. The African-American students we had, as a rule, were very poor, still living in segregated areas outside the main part of town. The African-American students we had that were involved played football and maybe basketball. They did NOT come in dressed cheerleading workout gear ready to teach, “gasp,” dance! The girls were both in shock and in awe. They knew from nationals that this guy “knew cheerleading,” but he was different. However, like most students, they gave him the benefit of the doubt from day one. Kids are like that.
He pulls out his work out tape, places it in the cassette, and immediately begins doing simple dance moves to R and B . He was moving his hips folks, in rhythm to the music. These girls knew country western line dancing…but this? Seriously…move our hips like this? Will the Lutheran Church allow this? Please understand there was absolutely nothing lurid about the moves, but boy were they different. Patiently for two days these white bread girls began to get a sense of what was to come. Step by step, arm motion by arm motion, stunt by stunt, the three minute routine came together in rough draft form. They went home exhausted, stinky, and back early the next morning. As the routine began to take shape, the milling students began to stand and watch for hours this man work with these girls. The drill team even got a little “snarky.” Cheerleaders don’t dance and certainly not with the latest music. Tommy would refine, retune, and edit our routine over the course of the next four months. He became a fixture around the campus as he would fly in for super long weekends or even a week. Once the routine was completed, he would come to school dressed like a professional businessman. Quietly, the African-American students began to walk up to him, ask him his name, what he was doing at THS, and where was he from? As we would prepare for workout, he would be surrounded by these students carrying on conversations. By now, my cheerleaders would get jealous because he was “their Tommy” brought to town for them. As December approached, it was decided that Tommy would come to Tomball and fly out with us on the way to Nashville. He would be with us every step. WE flew in, we competed, and came in SECOND! Whoa, what a leap in placement. We made the front pages of the “Potpourri” and the “1960 Sun.” That spring, same conversation with the principal. Negotiate with Mr. Amico, as my principal called him. No other choreographer was considered. July, 1988, Mr. Amico Goes to Tomball for SIX weeks! He stays at my house (gasp), shops in Tomball, tries to find a place to do “his hair,” comes up on campus where people begin to recognize him and call him by name. He eats lunch with the girls and visits with the African-American students who gravitate to him. He crafts a show stopping routine. He even takes our uniform tailor to the fabric store to hunt for the right material. She even makes him two custom suits while he is there! December arrives. Round Two, Quest for Nationals, Leave for Nashville, and this time we have a plane load of parents, community members, school board members, and our entire TISD administration. Not kidding. Had the plane crashed, the head custodian would have been in charge J As we prepare for the competition, I see these various people talking to Tommy on the side, asking his opinion of our chances, laughing with him about my quirks, and on and on. He moves between the various girls saying just the right thing. He keeps me calm. Not only had Tommy prepared the entire squad for this moment, he had worked with the five girls who had been chosen at camp to participate in the individual competitions. He created cheers and dances for them at no charge. He coached them and gave them just what they needed.
December 1989!
THS CHEERLEADERS WIN NATIONAL TITLE!
Individuals Capture 1, 2, 3, and 5th with $27,000.00 Cash Prizes
We made the front page of the “Potpourri,” “The Sun,” and the Lifestyle section of the “Houston Chronicle.” We were on “Good Day Houston” morning program. This put little Tomball on the map alright. We would repeat this performance again the following year including the individual placements. We would come in third the next because frankly we could not win that year. We had taken all the trophies and the money. J But these accomplishments pale in comparison to the real result. In this context of something that many folks perceive to be a silly activity depicted in the movie “Bring it On (parts I and II)” was the forging of lifelong lessons in human relationships.
A world of long established preconceived notions was suddenly more open to change and acceptance of others “not like us.” As a teacher, Tommy Amico taught me more than I can type in this essay about African-American literature, music, cooking, ways of thinking, and friendship. This white “under tall for her weight” Texas school teacher suddenly became more aware of the needs of her students of any color. I now had ways to relate to them that gave my teaching real relevance and importance. For once, I was able to connect and make a difference to all of my students, not some of my students. I began to, in earnest, pursue ways to deepen these connections. Thanks to Tommy Amico I took a six week Humanities seminar at the University of Virginia in African-American literature. And Culture. I witnessed girls’ lives be changed for the better because he came into their world. He pushed them to be better athletes. He gave comfort to those who struggled with all types of issues. He chastised those who felt it was their “right” to do certain things in relation to the squad. He spoke of moral and ethical behavior, not just getting that flip-flop timed perfectly. And, when he got on that plane for what would be the last time heading off to Kansas City there were a bunch of tears. I am not discounting my part in this process; however, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Tommy Amico changed lives in that small town in Texas.
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