THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, August 4, 1995 TAG: 9508020189
SECTION: PORTSMOUTH CURRENTS PAGE: 08 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Cover Story
SOURCE: BY REBECCA A. MYERS AND JANIE BRYANT, STAFF WRITERS
LENGTH: Long : 391 lines
LAST WEEK, staff writers Rebecca Myers and Janie Bryant set out to observe the life of a camp counselor - or at least the city's version of that summer youth worker.
They found them everywhere - in weathered recreation centers, school yards and playgrounds, golf courses and even the pan yard.
They're a special breed - these brave souls who take on the broiling hot sun and stuffy, unair-conditioned buildings filled with children and teenagers who don't always wear their appreciation on their sleeves.
On good days, it's noisy and sometimes even chaotic.
So why do they do it?
We already told you. They're a special breed. Tuesday, July 25
10 a.m.: It is not a job for a control freak.
There are a number of absentees, and still Diana Klutz has about two dozen 6-year-olds all marching to a different beat.
The 20-year-old camp counselor wants them to stand in a nice line at the wall singing the Youth Against Drugs (YAD) song, which they will present at a talent show.
She promises them that once they finish their singing, they can go to the gym and play the Big Bad Wolf.
A big ``Yeah!'' comes out of the pint-size crowd, but not much cooperation.
Some of them sing like they're supposed to. But the line begins to get sloppy, as one or more of the kids test the boundaries.
One moves an inch, another takes a long stride. Klutz tells a young girl to go back where she was. The child slides slowly - testing, testing - stretching a yard or so to touch a fingertip toward the wall.
A boy does a cartwheel on the floor. Another one jumps up to tell the counselor a boy has bitten him on the arm.
There are similar problems with attention span and the ability to follow instructions once the camp counselor gets them to the gym.
Klutz lets out a deafening whistle, but children a few feet away seem oblivious. After a couple of games, the kids seem to be winding down.
The counselor takes them back to their room in the Hilanders Community Center. It's too hot to even think about going outside.
The children sit at three round tables, waiting for Klutz to parcel out coloring sheets and broken, battered crayons.
She reminds them of the rule: ``One crayon in your hand at the time . . . the city didn't give us very many, and they're all broken.''
As Klutz passes by two little girls, they point their fingers at her, singing Joe Cocker's ``You Are So Beautiful to Me.''
The creases in the counselor's forehead ease away and Klutz smiles at the children. She jokes with them, telling them she wishes they would teach the song to her boyfriend.
While the kids draw, she sits up at her desk, a child snuggled in her lap. Several more gather around her to show off their artwork or just to compete for a little of her attention.
The affection is mutual.
A senior at James Madison University, Klutz hopes once she graduates to find a job teaching children from similar backgrounds. Many of them were bused to the center from the city's public housing neighborhoods.
Klutz remembers her first year at the center. She didn't know it at the time, but other staff members had a pool going that she wouldn't last two weeks.
``I think only one person betted in my favor,'' she said. ``I found out about it my second year, when I went in for my interview. They thought I was pretty timid and I wouldn't be able to handle it.
``You expect kids to listen to you, do what they're told, participate in the activities,'' she said. ``I guess it was kind of obvious that I was kind of overwhelmed at first.''
That first year, she overheard children saying things like: ``I don't want to be in the white girl's group.''
Klutz hopes she's given them a new outlook.
She definitely proved other staff members wrong.
After five years with the Parks and Recreation Department, three of them at the Hilanders Center, Klutz could have chosen a different center or playground.
She doesn't have to prove herself anymore. But Hilanders is home for Klutz.
``There was one little boy, I'll never forget him,'' said Klutz. ``He got in trouble almost every single day.''
The camp supervisor was at the point of having to tell the child's parent he couldn't come back when Klutz took him under her wing.
``He didn't know how to write his name,'' she remembered, explaining that children had to sign in at camp every morning.
``I gave him a piece of paper with his name on it and he took it home and practiced and brought it back to me,'' she said. ``Pretty much all he wanted was someone to listen to him and answer his questions.''
That child, she said, was one of many who have limitless potential if encouraged.
``That's why I need to be here.'' Wednesday, July 26
11:30 a.m.: Donning a baggy white golf shirt, purple Bermuda shorts and a white leather glove on her left hand, Tamisha Augustin could have been a model on the pages of Golf Digest.
But the 12-year-old came from Hampton to Portsmouth's City Park not to make a fashion statement. She showed up in the 96-degree blistering heat to learn the game of golf.
Tamisha is one of about three dozen pint-size golfers who come to the public course weekly, toting donated clubs that have been cut down to suitable sizes.
They come to chip and putt, to birdie and bogey, to learn what the right foot is supposed to do after the ball is hit.
Now they know the foot is supposed to turn, because their golf coach, 61-year-old Alton C. Hatten, has spent weeks showing them how it's done - and making them practice until they've gotten it right.
``As a minority and a lover of the game of golf, I didn't see any programs around that were available to the children the way I felt they should be,'' said Hatten, who is in his fifth year teaching golf.
``I tried to get my grandson interested, but in carrying him to lessons where he was the only minority there, he was kind of standoffish.''
Hatten knew his grandson would be comfortable with the game if he saw more of his peers playing. So Hatten decided to give lessons, concentrating on young minority players.
The idea worked.
When Hatten started teaching golf in 1991, he had six students; today, the retired Army sergeant has nearly three dozen, from ages 6 to 17.
Initially, Hatten targeted children in inner-city neighborhoods, but transportation soon became a problem. Now the program is open to any child with an interest in golf and the transportation to get to and from the course.
With the help of parents and fellow golfers who serve as coaches, Hatten is able to break the students down into small groups in order to give each individualized training.
``You can take one basketball and entertain 50 kids,'' said Hatten, ``but the nature of golf won't let you do it all in a group setting.''
More than just a coach, Hatten also is the players' biggest fan.
``Nice and smooth,'' Hatten coached one of the young players who was taking a practice swing.
``That's a good swing,'' he said. ``Now use that one on the ball.''
The youngster stood over the ball and took a single, graceful swing. As the ball shot into the air and landed on the neatly manicured grass, Hatten beamed proudly at his pupil.
``Super hit,'' he exclaimed. Wednesday July 26
3 p.m.: The heat index is over 100 and the air conditioning isn't working at the Kingman Heights Recreation Center, so the children have been moved to the Port Norfolk center.
A small window unit in the office area is the extent of cooling relief for the dozens of children who have been pulled from 10 city recreation camps and centers around the city.
The air may be reaching staff members who are cutting away at yards of material for costumes, but it doesn't do much in the closed off room where summer campers are rehearsing for the night when summer camp meets Broadway.
Their musical, ``We Can Make a Difference,'' is patterned after the Whoopi Goldberg movie, ``Sister Act II'' - only with a local slant.
The star, 12-year-old Rashidra Scott, plays a Norcom graduate who returns to Portsmouth to teach and finds that old schools are closing and students and school officials are becoming apathetic.
Rashidra, a Hurrah Players performer, was recruited as a volunteer in the program because of her acting experience.
In the play, she must be a strong enough actor to convince the audience she's motivating her students - teaching them that uniting together and working hard can make a difference.
She does.
The students' musical number wins a citywide competition in the play.
On this day, the week before rehearsals move to the real Norcom High School stage, the summer campers take their places in the middle of the stuffy room, moving through their jazzy kicking, hopping, twisting dance number.
Smiles break out. Their victory is scripted. But obviously each rehearsal makes them feel like winners all over again.
Felicia Halsey, who heads the performing program, and other staff members started off the summer traveling to the city's playgrounds and centers to recruit children interested in participating.
They ended up with more than 150 children, ages 4 to 14, who were willing to learn dance steps and songs and audition for parts, even when it meant forgoing trips to the pool and other camp activities.
After working with the kids at each of the sites, the staff and volunteers finally started bringing the kids together to rehearse at one of two centers with stages.
The program truly will be a family production.
Halsey's daughter, 17-year-old Natasha, did all the choreography. Currently, Miss Deep Creek and Miss Teen Chesapeake, Natasha has been singing since she was 3 and dancing since she was 5.
Natasha has performed with the Hurrah Players and is now in her fourth year with the Governor's School for the Arts. She's also been participating in parks and recreation programs for about six years and is now a paid employee.
Halsey's son, 11-year-old Reginald, is a volunteer who plays the drums for the group. The young musician also plays keyboards and is learning to play saxophone.
Halsey's mother, Velma Copeland, is a longtime recreation center supervisor. That's how the Chesapeake family got involved with Portsmouth's summer program.
Halsey worked with the children on a volunteer basis for about six years and was put on the payroll just last year.
She is from a family of musical talents.
Halsey and her three sisters sang gospel music as the Copeland Singers, backed by their three musician brothers.
Her mother sang with the church choir; her father, in a gospel quartet.
Now Halsey is director of her church choir and president of its youth department, which does many plays for the church. Her daughter is director of the junior choir. Her son plays the drums and her husband plays the guitar for the choir.
For the recreation department's Aug. 8 production, to be held at 7 p.m. at Norcom, Halsey's husband and brother will play the guitar. A sister and niece will dance.
And her mother has joined other staff members battling the clock as they make 59 colorful poodle skirts, 60 African costumes, 100 graduation gowns and about 200 graduation caps.
Last year, Halsey taught fewer students at one center. This year, they decided to take their training to as many children as possible around the city. They liked the idea of bringing those children together.
``We wanted them to interact and meet different friends. We didn't know how it was going to work, but it worked out just fine,'' she said.
``They're really into it.''
A lot of the children have never been in a production before and many are just discovering that they have talent, she said.
Now they're learning the other part of the equation - ``that being successful is hard work.'' Wednesday, July 26
7:30 p.m.: Ginger Johnson has found the secret to getting children to eat more of what's good for them.
Let them grow it themselves.
``Kids who usually don't eat salads are eating salads now,'' said Johnson, a Montessori teacher whose students began growing vegetables last year.
The project at Park View Elementary School started as a simple vegetable garden filled with turnips, beets, eggplants, okra, tomatoes, cucumbers, bell peppers, lettuce and peas.
The garden has expanded since to include the perimeter of the school, and it includes a variety of flowers, greenery and even roses. There also is a second plot on the opposite side of the building in which herbs and peppers are being grown.
With the help of a master gardener who specializes in organic growing and a few volunteer parents, about a dozen kids show up every Wednesday night from 6 to 8 p.m. to tend to the garden.
``It's a big job fighting the weeds,'' said Johnson.
Watering seems to be the children's favorite task.
``Nobody believes me that it's bone dry over there,'' David Fry, 7, lamented, pointing to a flower garden on the side of the school. Someone had turned the hose off in the midst of his watering, he said.
Though the students may not realize it, there's a science lesson in almost every shovelful of dirt they unearth.
``We're teaching them to identify insects that are helpful to the plants, like ladybugs,'' said Johnson.
And worms.
``If they find worms elsewhere, they'll take them over to the garden,'' said Johnson, who rejects the use of chemicals in any of the gardens.
``Everything is 100 percent natural,'' she said.
Mammoth sunflowers tower over the vegetable garden, some 10 to 12 feet high. The students plan to save the bright yellow heads and eat the seeds.
Picking crops is another top priority with the kids. On a recent Wednesday night, two varieties of cucumbers, a handful of red tomatoes and even a few green ones were collected and shared.
``One of the kids has a baby sitter who loves green tomatoes,'' explained Johnson. ``Those are for her.''
Monday, July 31
10 a.m.: Walk within a block of Portsmouth's pan yard on Queen Street and the sweet vibrations of steel drums will bring a smile to your face . . .
Come a little closer and before you know it, your head will start to bob .
Enter the pan yard and it won't be long before your entire body is swaying to the smooth, melodic sounds of the Pan Parrot Steel Drum Band.
Even the sleepiest of songs, like ``Amazing Grace,'' come alive under the direction of Keith St. Louis, the Trinidad musician in his second year of teaching pan to Portsmouth school children.
``Some of the children from last year are very good,'' said St. Louis. ``They are as good as Trinidad kids. And they're hungry for the music.''
According to St. Louis, anyone can learn to play a song on the pan in just five minutes. . . , well, at least the ``easy songs,'' he qualified.
In their fourth week of lessons, the two dozen or so students have already mastered a number of songs, including ``The Entertainer,'' ``Heart and Soul,'' ``Jamaica Farewell'' and ``Falling in Love.''
Ten minutes after being introduced Monday to a new song - a waltz - the students seemed to have it down pat.
``They just keep playing it over and over again until everybody gets it,'' said Barbara Vincent, who helps oversee the daily operation of the pan project.
Three fans help to cool the students who spend about five hours a day in what used to be Steiner's warehouse in the 600 block of Queen St.
But the 90-plus-degree heat doesn't seem to faze these kids, who are more intent on making beautiful music than staying cool.
``You wouldn't believe the sounds that come out . . . You just wouldn't believe it,'' said Vincent.
``The first-year kids who had never seen a pan in their lives, by 12 o'clock noon on the first day were playing `Heart and Soul.' I'm not kidding. It was really incredible.''
Organizers of the Pan Project hope to raise enough money this year to expand it to a year-round, after-school program.
If the necessary funding comes through, Portsmouth may be listening to Christmas carols on the pans in December.
Monday, July 31
10:45 a.m.: About a dozen young people have just finished dancing and now they're trying to cool off in the center of a large upstairs room in the Knights of Columbus building.
Doors are flung open and small fans are huffing away. Some of the youngsters are lying on the dark wood floor, others are sitting cross-legged chomping on cups of ice.
But before long, Charisse Minerva Spencer is doling out copies of a newspaper column and prodding the kids into a large circle.
The column is about the Portsmouth Community Development Group, which sponsors the dance project they are spending their summer days in. It also gives praise to the fine performance that they, as well as the steel drum players, gave at an annual meeting.
Spencer tells the children to sit up and each read a paragraph.
``What if you don't want to read?'' a student asks.
``There are no `don'ts' in here,'' Spencer answers. ``There's `I'll try.' ''
Someone mentions the column didn't get their name right, but the real problem is that the dance project participants don't have an official name yet.
They launch into a brainstorming session on possible names.
``Too Good to Be True,'' one kid suggests.
``All Dat and a Bag of Chips,'' a boy in the group blurts out.
``We have to use correct English in this group,'' Spencer says, laughing.
``All of That and a Bag of Chips,'' he amends.
Spencer urges the dancers to think of a name that says ``Portsmouth'' so people will know where they're from when they perform.
She's already sent a tape to President Clinton and she's been asked to send information to the Black Children's Crusade Center, which is a networking system on youth programs.
The young people argue that it's best not to say where they're from.
Sometimes telling what neighborhood you're from can land you in territorial trouble in another neighborhood, they point out. They figure the same thing could happen if they go around telling people they're from Portsmouth.
``People in Holly Cove can't stand Portsmouth, and we're like a mile away,'' one girl chimes in.
Discussion of a name gets sidelined for awhile, while Spencer has one of her charges give out folders.
The folders have become a journal of each child's experience in the dance project, with sections marked for choreography, cultural awareness, field trips, jazz and interpersonal development. Besides journal entries, each child has done a family tree.
The participants obviously do much more than dance.
They've done research on Pocahontas at the library and attended a lecture at the Fine Arts Museum. They took a tour of the Art Atrium and took a trip to the courthouse to watch proceedings. While there, Judge Johnny Morrison let them use his vacant courtroom to do mock trials.
They've had guest artists who have introduced them to everything from traditional African dance to the Chinese martial art movements, called Tai Chi.
They have been watching a video of a Public Broadcasting Service series about what dance means to people around the world.
From all this, the young people are choreographing their own ``dance quilt,'' which Spencer says will become ``at the end a signature piece almost.''
Spencer, who has a master's degree in dance anthropology from New York University, obviously enjoys opening her world to the youngsters.
``We're learning dance technique . . .using dance as a social or cultural study,'' Spencer explains later. ``But dance is like the lens of the camera, I guess you could say.
``I'm interested in why we dance, the different ways we use it. I believe as you share dance between different people you bring different groups of people together. It's a common language.''
And maybe one day soon, it will allow some Portsmouth young people the freedom and pride to say where they're from. ILLUSTRATION: LIFE AT CAMP
[Color Photo]
ON THE COVER
Cynthia Jordan, 12, tees off for her golf instructor Alton C. Hatten
at City Park. The staff photo is by Jim Walker.
Staff photo by JIM WALKER
Counselor Diana Klutz comforts LeDarris Ridley at the Highlander
Recreation Center. Klutz hopes, once she graduates from James
Madison University, to find a job teaching children from similar
backgrounds.
Photo by REBECCA A. MYERS
David Fry, 7, fills a watering can at the children's vegetable
garden at Park View Elementary School. Tending the crops has its
benefits. ``Kids who usually don't eat salads are eating salads
now,'' said teacher Ginger Johnson.
Charisse Minerva Spencer, director of the dance project sponsored by
the Portsmouth Community Development Group, teaches campers the
meaning of some of the hand movements in African dance at the
Knights of Columbus building. The program promotes cultural
awareness.
Photo by GARY C. KNAPP
Staff photo by JIM WALKER
Aiesha Crawford, 8, center, rehearses a dance number for the
campers' musical, ``We Can Make a Difference,'' under the watchful
eye of Miss Deep Creek, Natasha Halsey, left, at the Port Norfolk
center.
by CNB