ONE PERSON CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE IN THIS WORLD

Winning has always meant much to me, but winning friends has meant the most. (Babe Zaharias)

When looking back over forty-six 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 “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  However, being the “goody two shoes” I was at the time, I took the job. The first few years, I truly was a sponsor. I 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 in 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 national’s 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. The first time we went, we placed 16th in the nation. WE tried the next year, a better routine, but in spite of the fact that the girls and I created our own routine; we place second! 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 was 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 stood in front of me and introduced himself (actually reintroduced 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 came along new cheerleading squad made up of eight veterans and four new sophomores. The principal asked 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 asked 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 arrived; early morning on campus. Drill team was practicing, Student Council was there doing something, football players were milling, cheerleaders were waiting, and in walks a 6’ black man! Please understand…this was a school of 95% white students. The African-American students we had were still lived in was essentially segregated areas outside the main part of town. The African-American students that were involved played football and maybe basketball. We had our first African-American cheerleader the year before (shout out to Cassandra B). The did not come dressed to, “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 pulled out his work out tape, placed it in the cassette, and immediately began doing simple dance moves to the current R and B music of the time. He was moving his whole body folks, in rhythm to the music. These girls knew country western line dancing…but this? Seriously…move our hips like that? Would this even be allowed? Please understand there was absolutely nothing lurid about the moves, but they were 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 as this man worked 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. 

December 1989!

THS CHEERLEADERS WIN NATIONAL TITLE!

Individuals Capture 1, 2, 3, and 5th with $27,000.00 Cash Scholarship Prizes

Tomball would not be satisfied with one national title. Nope. August, 1989, “Mr. Amico Goes to Tomball for SIX weeks!” My principal, once again, called me and I left with a mandate: Repeat the Championship. I called Tommy and said I have more dinero for you , can you stay for a month? We’ll buy the plane tickets, pay your expenses, and pay for you to travel with us again. He did not think twice. So, began the quest for the second nationals title. We reserved a large practice gym at a local church and began that August the long road to repeating. 

He stayed in my home, shopped in Tomball, discovered the joy of Sonic, and found a place to do “his hair.” After lunch Tommy would come up on campus where people began to recognize him and call him by name. He sometimes ate lunch with the girls and visited with the African-American students who gravitated to him. He crafted a show stopping and extremely difficult routine. He took our uniform seamstress to downtown Houston to a fabric store to hunt for the right material for our nationals uniforms. She even made him two custom suits while he was in Tomball! 

December arrived. Round Two, Quest for Nationals; we left for Nashville. This time we had 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! As we prepared for the competition, people from the staff of the group holding the competition talked to Tommy on the side, asking his opinion of our chances. Knowing Tommy some predictions were made that might have sounded over confident. As we waited, he moved between the various girls saying just the right thing. He kept me calm along with Kimm Carter’s assistance. 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. Those twelve girls from a small Texas town were poised beyond all comprehension. They demanded the attention of the 1 to 2 thousand people at the prelims. They placed out of prelims and into finals. They would be in the Top 15 out of 80+ large girls’ varsity competition group. The next day I had to let Tommy take over; I was about to toss my cookies. I knew that repeating any championship was difficult. And, now we had all these people who had paid to come watch their hometown girls. Tommy had them calm; Kimm had them groomed, and Peri Copeland who came to watch us from Palestine, rubbed my back. They took the floor and in 3 minutes and 50 seconds, they made history and brought the house down in front of over 5,000 spectators Yes, they won AGAIN! Second National Championship! Four of our individuals placed in the All American category and once again, two of them won first and second garnering another $27,000 in cash scholarships. “Who Rule the World? Tomball Girls Rule the World!” I really don’t think the girls even realized what they had done. Some may still not.

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 come in third the next year because frankly we could not be allowed win again. We had taken all the trophies and the money for two years straight. But these accomplishments paled 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 were more open to change and the 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 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 more 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 personal 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 rivers 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.