Posted on Sat, May. 23, 2009
The soul of Central High
BY KATHLEEN McGRORY
kmcgrory@MiamiHerald.com
The state thought it might be time to close Miami Central Senior High.
The students thought otherwise.
This spring, Central's student body took up the fight to save their school, a landmark in Miami's West Little River neighborhood.
With five straight F's, Central had been branded with the worst academic record in Florida. But its students seized the opportunity to prove they were more than failing students at a failing school.
''Nobody really understands Central,'' sophomore Jelecia Marshall said. ``We don't show off. But if you want to come inside, we'll show you what we're all about.''
Over the last four months, the Miami-Dade school district gave The Miami Herald unparallelled access to the school.
Over the last several weeks, four students gave a Herald reporter, videographer and photographer unparallelled access to their lives.
Briana Napper, a freshman, recently battled acute leukemia. But like Central, Briana is a fighter. Now in remission, she is thriving in the school's magnet program.
Jelecia Marshall, an outspoken sophomore, rallied her fellow 10th-graders to make gains on the state tests on which school grades are based.
Jeffrey Godfrey, a junior, is the school's star quarterback. Along with plenty of swagger, he's got a work ethic that includes taking extra classes so he can graduate a semester early and move on to college.
And senior André Young is the drum major of the Miami Central Marching Rockets, the school's marching band. A leader and a gentleman, André embodies the spirit of Central.
The Miami Herald went with the teens to family outings, practices and night classes, and was there as they got ready for prom.
What we learned: Just like the school itself, the teens have a lot to overcome. Homelessness. Illness. Broken families. The ever-present temptation of gangs and drugs.
But just like the school itself, each is looking forward to a future that shines.
Here are their stories.
THE FIGHTER
`LIFE IS TOO SHORT
FOR THE NEGATIVITY.'
Briana Napper always wanted to go to Central. It's where her mother and her aunts grew up. It's where her parents fell in love.
She almost didn't make it.
At 12, Briana was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia.
Despite the bleak prognosis, Briana never had any intention of letting the cancer beat her.
Briana, now 14 and in remission, is a freshman in Central's competitive magnet program, the Academy of Information Technology.
Her biggest concern now: keeping her grades up so she can attend a prestigious university, like Yale or Harvard. She wants to become a pediatrician.
''Going through so much made me realize that life is too short for the negativity,'' Briana said. ``There's more to life than that.''
Briana comes from a big, close-knit family of Central grads. When she was little, her aunts, uncles and cousins talked about the school whenever they were together.
Briana could envision herself walking the hallways.
''They always used to tell stories about Central,'' Briana recalled. ``They would all throw up the little Rocket sign, too. I wanted to share in the conversation.''
Briana wasn't the only one looking forward to becoming a Central Rocket: Chantel Davis couldn't wait until her daughter enrolled.
The family, however, would have bigger issues to confront.
In middle school, Briana fell ill. Doctors diagnosed her with ringworm. But Davis had a feeling the diagnosis was wrong. She was even more sure when Briana blacked out while walking to school. That morning, Davis took her daughter to Memorial Regional Hospital in Hollywood.
''I can never forget that day,'' Briana recalled. ``I was in the X-ray room. . . . then my mom came into the room with bloodshot, red eyes. I didn't know what was going on. They put me on a stretcher and rushed me to Joe DiMaggio Children's Hospital.''
In the weeks that followed, Briana participated in the Make-a-Wish program for children with life-threatening conditions. She received a computer, and the family took a trip to Walt Disney World.
''It was kind of a blessing in disguise,'' she said. ``I mean, I got a laptop and my family got to go on vacation.''
Throughout the ordeal, Briana's mother was her biggest supporter. When the chemotherapy caused Briana's hair to fall out, Davis shaved her own head.
When the kids at school whispered about Briana, her mother had T-shirts made: ''You don't know my story,'' they read. ``Ask me.''
In all, Briana spent four months in the hospital. She underwent high-dose chemotherapy for an entire year and low-dose chemotherapy for the year that followed.
Briana has since made strides toward a full recovery. She keeps a positive outlook and volunteers to help cancer patients whenever possible.
Now a full-fledged Central student, Briana is able to take part in those family conversations about the school. In fact, she is responsible for keeping her family up to date with the changes taking place at Central.
''I'm not going to say that I enjoyed having cancer, but having cancer made me a better person,'' Briana said. ``I'm a lot more mature now.''
THE LEADER
`I FEEL LIKE WE PASSED
THE TESTS ALREADY.'
Jelecia Marshall isn't afraid to speak her mind.
So when she found out that the state might close her school, she made her opinion known.
''There was no way I was gonna let them close this school,'' Jelecia said. ``It just wasn't gonna happen.''
After encouragement from a teacher, Jelecia, 16, ran for class vice president and won. Jelecia had never held a leadership position before. As a freshman, she thought more about her friends than making an impact on the Central community.
''Sometimes, I could be kind of hard-headed,'' said Jelecia, raised by a single mother in Miami's Little River neighborhood. ``I liked to be the class clown and everything.''
But after winning the election, she took pride in assuming the many responsibilities.
''I had to keep up with the principal, go to meetings,'' Jelecia recalled. ``A lot of people wanted to meet me.''
While she was active in class discussions throughout the year, nothing revved her up like learning the state might close Central's doors.
She knew much of the responsibility rested on the shoulders of the class. In Florida, sophomores take more state exams than high-school students in any other grade.
''We had a lot of pressure on us,'' Jelecia recalled. ``It was really up to us sophomores.''
Jelecia encouraged her classmates to pay attention in class and to attend Saturday school. And she reminded them that thousands of Central alumni were counting on them.
''I told them that we could do it,'' she recalled.
On the testing days, Jelecia worked harder than she had ever worked before. She read each question thoroughly and double-checked each answer.
Jelecia and her fellow sophomores pulled through: While writing scores slipped across the state, Central's score surged.
The scores of the math and reading tests haven't been released yet. But Jelecia is confident the Class of 2011 will shine.
''I feel like we passed the tests already,'' she said.
THE HOPE
`IT'S WORTH IT.
IT WILL ALL PAY OFF.'
Five college scouts stand on the sideline of the practice field.
They've come to see the Rocket Launcher.
Quarterback Jeffrey Godfrey, a junior, earned his nickname for his strong arm -- and because he has the potential to launch the Rocket football program into the national spotlight.
''Jeffrey's got talent,'' head coach Telly Lockette said during practice one afternoon. ``He could be the next big thing to come out of Central.''
Jeffrey's coaches believe he could play professionally.
The teenager understands the responsibility that brings, not only to himself, but to his family and his school.
He could become a star.
He could support his parents.
He could put Central and its football program back on the map.
After school, Jeffrey, 17, takes three hours of 12th-grade classes so he can graduate early. He then sprints to the football field, where he practices until it's too dark to see the ball.
He spends the weekend working at a local funeral home as a pallbearer -- and then practices some more.
''It's hard, yeah,'' Jeffrey says after collapsing onto the living room couch at 9 p.m. ``But it's worth it. It will all pay off.''
Quiet and competitive by nature, Jeffrey started playing football when he was 5. His family lived in Overtown, a neighborhood where gunfights and gang activity were commonplace.
One of Jeffrey's friends was shot to death while gambling on the corner.
Around the same time, some of his childhood friends started selling drugs. But those same kids discouraged Jeffrey from becoming part of that world.
''They knew I could be someone,'' Jeffrey said. ``They knew I could go to college, play in the NFL. They didn't want me getting messed up with that stuff.''
Jeffrey focused on football.
He and his father, who played quarterback at Miami Jackson, spent every weekend drilling footwork and building Jeffrey's endurance.
The hard work paid off: Jeffrey earned a coveted spot on Edison Senior High's varsity team when he was in the eighth grade.
Jeffrey transferred to Central at the beginning of his sophomore year. He was named the starting quarterback.
Already, Jeffrey has received offers from Michigan, Miami, Florida State, Central Florida, South Florida, Georgia and Tennessee. More are likely to come.
He hasn't settled on a school yet. But he wants to matriculate next spring, so he can learn his college team's playbook.
Jeffrey sees himself becoming the next Warren Moon, the trailblazing quarterback who played the position at a time when most quarterbacks were white.
Always practical, Jeffrey already worked up a Plan B: Should he get hurt playing football, he'll have a business degree to fall back on.
At Central, Jeffrey has become a celebrity of sorts. He spends each lunch period going from table to table, greeting scores of friends.
He has a following of kids who watch him practice and cheer for him at games.
''To be Jeffrey Godfrey, you gotta have swagger,'' he said during a recent lunch block. ``You can't wear [just] any sneakers; you gotta wear Jordans. And you gotta have the girls.''
Jeffrey is hoping to take Central's football team to the state finals this winter.
On the front of his gray Nike backpack he's written his slogan: ``In Godfrey We Trust.''
He also believes his class will take Central to new heights academically.
''There are kids that want to make Central a B school,'' he says. ``If we work hard, it could happen.''
THE SPIRIT
`I HELP THEM TO GO
IN THE RIGHT PATH.'
André Young kneels in the gymnasium doorway, closes his eyes and prays.
A cacophony of cornets and clarinets surrounds him.
In minutes, the spring concert will begin -- André's final concert as drum major for the Miami Central Marching Rockets.
For the last time, André will strut ahead of the musicians and majorettes, blow his whistle and start the show.
Inside the gym, hundreds of students, teachers, parents and alumni wait for the band, the pride of Miami Central. The Marching Rockets have won a bevy of awards and, in the process, a reputation for putting on a good show.
Being drum major means everything to André, a gregarious senior who plays seven instruments and dreams of earning a doctorate degree in music.
But for André, 18, the marching band is about more than just the music.
It's about tradition.
It's about Rocket Pride.
''A lot of people have come before me as drum major,'' André said. ``They helped train me and helped me to get where I am now. I'm doing this for them, too.''
André was raised in Miami's Little River neighborhood by a stern but caring single mother. For years, the family of five struggled financially. When they had nowhere to live, they slept in shelters.
As a kid, André sometimes got into fights. But instead of turning to gangs, André turned to music.
André found that music had a calming effect on him. When he sang a song or drummed on a desk, his frustration disappeared.
''I had a temper and music knew how to take that temper away from me,'' he said. ``It was the sun on my rainy day.''
It was music that drew André to Central.
He could have chosen a magnet program in another part of town. But André decided on his neighborhood school after stumbling upon a marching-band practice.
That afternoon, André stood in the doorway of the band room, entranced.
''The music was overwhelming,'' André recalled. ``It blew my mind.''
During his four years at Central, André learned how to play as many instruments as he could: piano, saxophone, keyboard, drums, trumpet, trombone, flute.
He learned how to read music and conduct a full symphonic band.
He developed an affinity for jazz and started a four-piece jazz ensemble.
And, in his senior year, he earned the highly coveted position of drum major.
For André, it was an exercise in leadership. He learned to direct dozens of student musicians, flag twirlers and dancers, each with a distinct part to play. It was his responsibility to keep the band in concert.
''If I'm unsure of my job as the drum major, my band is going to go astray,'' André said after a recent afternoon practice. ``It's like a shepherd controlling his flock. I help them to go in the right path.''
When Doug Rodriguez became principal in December, André's leadership role at Central expanded.
Rodriguez could help Central make the grade -- but only if the students worked for it.
André took the principal's words as a call to action.
''If we were going to get through this successfully, we had to come together as a student body,'' André recalled.
Although he had no more FCATs to take, André began encouraging the school's underclassmen to believe in themselves.
He worked with profoundly disabled students, helping them with their homework and teaching them about music.
André also made it a point to talk to Rodriguez when his peers expressed any concerns.
''André has a heart for all of the students at Central,'' Rodriguez said. ``He's not just concerned about himself graduating -- he's concerned about the well being of all of the kids and the school's reputation.''
After graduation, André is headed to the University of Missouri in St. Louis, where his dad lives.
Beyond that, he hopes to earn a doctorate degree, play music around the world and produce more than a dozen records.
Once he's finished, André plans to return to Central as a music teacher and director of the band.
Tonight, however, André is focused on the last concert of his senior year.
Dressed in his crisp white uniform and his forest green cape, André looks out to the crowd. Cheers and applause erupt when he struts into the gym.
After a short solo performance, André climbs a ladder putting him high above the band he's about to lead. Hundreds of eyes look up at him.
André drops his white-gloved hand.
The music begins.
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