Leap of Faith

The crickets chirping in my grandmother’s side yard.  Owls hooting in the woods across the way.

 

The rustling of the leaves on the giant magnolia trees outside the second-floor bedroom window of the house in the country where my father grew up, moved away, but truly never left.

 

The engine-hum of cars careering down a two-lane stretch of Rt. 460, then the flash of their headlights in the darkness and roar of their engines as they round the nearby curve, then the screech of their tires when the driver finds that curve sharper than he expected.

 

The train rumbling along the tracks far off in the distance, then the clanging of the caution bells as the gates lower, then the sharp blast of the train’s air horn just before it passes the intersection with the town’s main drag and speeds off into the night.

 

Where’s it going? my pre-teen self with a great big world ahead of him always wondered. How awesome would it be to jump aboard and hang on for dear life and feel the cool wind blowing in my face? Where would I get off? The next town? The one after that? Or the next? Or maybe I’d ride forever.

 

I never took that leap of faith, not in a literal sense, anyway.

 

With the passage of time, though, I’ve reflected often on those long-ago images, especially when a far-away locomotive whistle pierces the clear night air, then offered a prayer of humble gratitude for a sometimes challenging, often exhilarating, and always meaningful journey that became my 50-year stopover at Collegiate.

 

All that said, teaching and coaching wasn’t my original career choice. Sports writing was, and in my first two years out of the University of Richmond, I learned the craft from the best in the business at the Richmond News Leader. As a junior and senior at UR and during my second year at the newspaper, I also coached what we now call Cub sports and somehow got this crazy idea that I could save the world.

 

In 1972, Collegiate advertised for a Boys School English teacher and coach. I applied and interviewed. The pool of applicants was obviously shallow, and I received an offer. Assured that I could freelance, I took the plunge, promising myself (and Jennings Culley, my editor) that I’d stay three years max, then return downtown and resume my journalism career.

 

Interesting how things work out, isn’t it?

 

My gosh, where to begin?

 

Sitting inconspicuously on the back row at my first faculty meeting (beside Charlie McFall as he drew up football plays), I listened as the venerable Malcolm U. Pitt Jr. referenced Collegiate as a Family School. Though I’d never heard the term, I quickly learned that “Family” was a theme that permeated the institution’s culture and manifested itself every day in many ways.

 

It came to life in the form of mentorship, and in the early days when I needed all the help I could get, there was no shortage of guiding lights to show me the way.

 

Petey Jacobs, the athletic director, espoused sportsmanship, competitive spirit, fair play, loyalty, honor, and respect and through both words and bearing set the tone for our program that lives on today.

 

Ned Fox, the Boys School head and my English guru, conveyed firmly but gently that I was a teacher first and coach second (rather than the other way around) and helped me understand that I could derive as much satisfaction from nurturing students to value grammar, write well, and appreciate literature as I could from training them to excel in the athletic arena.

 

Bill Reeves, Ned’s successor, brought extraordinary compassion, gentleness, and wisdom, modeled tolerance and respect, played to our strengths (although, with me, he had few to play to), and brought out the best in all of us.

 

Richard Towell, a math teacher par excellence, became a big-brother type sounding board who, when I’d get frustrated and start yet another I’m-going-back-to-the-newspaper rant, reminded me why teaching was a calling rather than a job.

 

Jim Hickey, the legendary track coach and quintessential guide on the side, taught me the importance of surrounding myself with good, dedicated colleagues, empowering them to perform their duties, and having a lot of fun along the way, all lessons that paid great dividends as I grew in the profession and spent 48 seasons as a head coach in three varsity sports.

 

The Family School concept came to life, too, in the form of abiding support and uncommon kindness when life got tough. Over the years, we’ve experienced trials and tragedies within our school community and on a larger scale, but we’ve instinctively and invariably rallied to protect, encourage, and care for one another, even in the darkest hours.

 

And the Family School concept came to life as blessings bestowed quietly, humbly, and graciously: friends taking time to listen or sharing good-natured repartee at the lunch table, students saying “thank you” when they leave a classroom or offering a heartfelt “good morning” when they pass in the hall, or a graduate sharing a moment, sometimes amusing, sometimes poignant, from years past that made a positive and indelible impression.

 

Times have changed, of course, since that day a half-century ago when I began this journey with the men and women who would become icons. Faces have changed. Methods have changed. Our school has changed, that’s for sure, but the time-honored mindset of we-do-many-things-well-but-what-we-do-best-is-take-care-of-each-other hasn’t. For that, our predecessors would be incredibly proud.

 

Serving Collegiate has been an honor.

 

I’ve been blessed to coach, mostly cross country and track, for most of my professional life. Our teams have enjoyed success and earned the respect of our competitors, but the true joy has been seeing young men and women challenge their limits, find strength, endurance, and courage that they might not have believed they had, and apply the lessons of sports to life beyond the arena.

 

I’ve been blessed to teach many talented, motivated 7^th grade guys, but the true joy of the classroom experience has been helping that reluctant, anxious, back-row 13-year-old unlock his gifts and find his voice.

 

I’ve been blessed for 21 years to share with our community the “Reflections” column, which, according to my original charge, "reflects" the soul of our school, and I’ve been blessed that so many friends have trusted me to tell their stories.

 

I’ve been blessed to share the journey with dedicated, resilient, and inspiring colleagues, many Collegiate graduates themselves, with parents who entrusted their children to our care, and for almost 36 years with Emily, my wife and soulmate, who brightened her 3^rd grade classroom for three decades and who stood steadfastly beside me through victory and defeat and kept the promise for better and for worse and in sickness and in health.

 

And as the years became decades, I’ve been blessed to serve as a link to our past, keep alive the spirits of those who set the tone for the Collegiate of today, and perpetuate through humble stewardship a culture built on trust, honor, integrity, and mutual respect which will, I am confident, endure forever.

~Weldon Bradshaw