Category Archives: Staples HS

Club Green Hopes To Win Green

Last year, Staples’ Club Green won $5,000 in CL&P’s “Live Green Win Green” contest.  The money helped fund EcoFest, and paid for recycling bins for the school and athletic fields.

This year, club members helped bring in a double-sided printer for the library.   It saves 350 reams of paper a year — that’s $1,000, for those who care more about money than trees.

Club Green also hopes to make EcoFest — the yearly environmental/music festival — better than ever.

They’d also like to win that $5,000 again.  Or $20,000.

“06880” readers can help.  Public voting begins tomorrow (Wed., March 9) — just click here.  (You can vote multiple times each day.  Hey, it works for Chicago.)

After voters winnow the field, judges pick the final winners.  The grand prize is 20 grand.

Club Green members (from left) Brett Adelglass, Sarah Fox, Ben Meyers, Dan Navarro, Harry Stuttard, Nicole Brill, Swheta Lawande, Caroline Foster, Mike Aitkenhead (advisor), Alex Krayson, Robby Gershowitz.

This Is Not A Broadway Trailer. It’s Better.

Still on the fence about seeing “Brighton Beach Memoirs,” Staples Players’ current Black Box Theater production?

This trailer will push you over that fence, and send you hustling for tickets.

The video gives a great flavor for the show — but it does not include Matt Van Gessel (double-cast as Stanley).  That’s because the talented senior actor also shot and produced the trailer.

Kids these days…

(“Brighton Beach Memoirs” will be performed tomorrow [Sunday, March 6] at 2 p.m., and this coming Thursday, Friday and Saturday [March 10, 11 and 12] at 7: p.m.  Click here to order tickets.)

The Agony Of Defeat

The recent death of Joe Murray elicited great memories of the epic 1967 FCIAC championship football game between Staples and Stamford Catholic.

“06880” reader Bruce Jones — a sophomore then, now living in Georgia — sent along a copy of the New York Times coverage that so many remember so well.

The iconic photo shows a sobbing Crusader, after his team’s 30-game unbeaten streak was snapped by the Wreckers (8-0).

But the shot also shows Staples’ Bill Croarkin offering “words of consolation for Bennett Salvatore, losers’ quarterback.”

Salvatore was certainly a great athlete — a high school All-American, in fact.  And he went on to a long career in professional sports — as an NBA  official.

He’s refereed over 1,500 basketball games — including 20 finals.

However, according to the Basketball-Refs.com blog, he has “the distinction of being the worst referee alive today.”

Four decades later, the guy can’t catch a break.

Lynsey And Tyler’s Libya Lens

The New York Times’ “Lens” page is always fascinating.  Each day it features fantastic photographs — and a back story, courtesy of the photographer.

Today’s “Lens” highlights Staples graduate Lynsey Addario.  She’s in Libya — working with fellow Stapleite and Times photographer Tyler Hicks.

Her story begins:

It’s been a rough day.  From where we are in Benghazi, the opposition sent hundreds of troops — if not more — toward the front line to fight against the government troops.

Tyler Hicks and I went forward.  Tyler was about two hours ahead of me.  We decided that I would stay back and see what was happening and then follow, depending on the situation.

At the send-off point for the opposition troops, people were pouring water on them and cheering.  Hundreds of people came out to send the fighters forward.  Everyone was armed to the teeth on the back of these trucks.

You could hear the airstrikes.  There was a lot of machine-gun fire, Kalashnikov fire.  People were shooting in the air.  It was really chaos.

That’s just the start.  Click here to see Lynsey’s amazing shots — and read more of her and Tyler’s harrowing experiences in a world far from Westport. 

(Photo: Lynsey Addario/New York Times)

Heartfelt Hugs

Staples principal John Dodig is a graceful, insightful writer.  Each month in the PTA newsletter “For the Wreckord” he tackles real problems, raises crucial questions — but no one beyond the readership of high school parents ever sees his words.

Here is John Dodig’s March column — another challenging window into Westport, and the world.

I just finished reading a short article about Ricky Martin’s recent coming out and what it has done for Latinos who are gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender. The author feels that by doing so, Martin made it easier for young Puerto Rican and Latin American men and women to reveal their true identities and, in general, be happier people.

This article reminded me of a conversation I had about 6 years ago with 2 African American Staples freshmen who were feeling alone, angry, and frustrated by being in a school where there were only a few people who looked like they did.  Both happened to be Bridgeport residents who attended Westport schools via the Open Choices state program.

When I met them during a moment of anger and frustration, I asked if they would speak to about 40 Staples adults, all of whom were members of our Collaborative Team. They agreed, and did so.

John Dodig

These 2 young women opened up to us in a very passionate, emotional outpouring of feelings.  They shared with us that they thought each day about quitting while riding on the bus.  They felt that it would be easier to move back to their home school in Bridgeport, where they would blend in with the crowd.  It was only through the unwavering personal attention of the Staples social worker assigned to this program, their assistant principal, and their very caring Staples teachers that they stayed with us.

Over time, they began to feel that they were part of the school population and no longer outsiders.  They somehow learned to deal with comments from their friends back home who said that they were changing and becoming “uppity Westporters.”  That period of transition, where they felt that they didn’t belong in either setting, was probably the most difficult.

By the senior year, however, one girl became the Homecoming Queen.  She was presented with a huge bouquet of roses on our football field, to the cheers and applause of almost 3,000 people.  I overheard her tell her parents on the sideline: “They really like me!”

The other young woman was asked to be the student speaker at baccalaureate, just before graduation.  Her emotional speech left not a dry eye in the house.

About a month ago, those 2 young women returned to Staples to let us know how they are doing.  One is now in hairdressing school, living on her own with a car and paying her own bills.

The other received an associate degree from Norwalk Community College, and is now working on a bachelor’s degree in criminology at UConn.  She wants to be a policewoman.

Both returned to see and hug the people who helped them through their transition at Staples.  After my hug, one said to her former assistant principal: “Thank you for caring and for being so tough on us.  I now work with people of all nationalities.  I realize that how I am treated is totally dependent on how I treat others.”  More tears flowed.

Staples can sometimes seem like a sea of sameness. (Photo does not depict actual students.)

There is no getting around the fact that Staples has a minority population of about 6 percent.  The largest minority population of 2.8% is Asian.  The African American student population is only 1.4%, and would be much smaller if it were not for the Open Choice program and the ABC program.

The Hispanic population is about 1.9%, and has not changed over time.  I can’t imagine that this will change in the near future.

It is important to remember that others have taken the place of the 2 girls I wrote about in this article, and that some are feeling just as they did.  The best we can do is be aware of it, and try to help them come to the same realization at an earlier age.

Being different at this age is difficult. We all like to be with people who think like us, look like we do, and have the same cultural identity.

Would it have been easier for those 2 girls to have transferred to their home school, where almost everyone had the same color skin? Maybe. But they did not, and they believe it made them stronger, wiser, more adaptable adults.

If you have to pick anywhere on earth to be different than the majority of people around you, Staples is the place.  Yet there are so many people in our school and community who are attuned to this, and are involved in making minority students’ lives happier than just about anywhere else I can think of.

I am writing about this not because of any particular recent incident but rather to talk about something that everyone knows is true, in hopes that more of us will become involved in reaching out and making all kids feel “at home.”

Whether a Staples teen is gay, a Muslim, African American, Hispanic or so tall she or he has to bend over to get through a door, Staples has to remain a warm and welcoming place.

In this case, it does take a village to make this happen.  I urge you to talk about this at one of the organizations to which you belong.  It is important to all of us.

Remembering Joe Murray

In 1967, Stamford Catholic was the Connecticut high school football power.  Winner of more than 30 straight games, averaging over 30 points every Saturday, they were the prohibitive favorites in the FCIAC championship contest.

No one gave Staples a chance.

Head coach Paul Lane may not even have believed the Wreckers could win.  But he prepared the team well — tactically, physically and mentally — and they were ready.

Joe Murray played a key role too.  A captain, linebacker and offensive guard, his intense spirit, positive attitude and great sense of humor helped convince his teammates they could pull off an upset for the ages.

They did.  On that memorable November day at Stamford’s Boyle Stadium, Staples won 8-0.

“He didn’t have a lot of size,” Lane recalls.  He was about 5-7, 160 pounds — small even for that era.

“But he was a great tackler, a real student of the game,” Lane says.  “He was a real leader.”

“He led by example,” former teammate Tommy Nistico — now the owner of the Red Barn restaurant — adds.  “A wonderful guy.”

“Joe was one tough kid!” marvels another ex-teammate, Nick Albertson — a longtime teacher and coach at Deerfield Academy.

Joe didn’t get a lot of glory.  But without him — and teammates Nistico, Albertson, Bobby Lynam, Buddy Lynch and Brad Steen — there would have been few Steve Booth and Dave Lindsay heroics that year.  Especially that day.

After college Joe moved south.  He became a very successful businessman — he was CEO of several small companies — and a loving father.

He called his former teammates regularly, to check up and make sure his guys were okay.  It’s what a good captain does — long after he stops playing.

He never spoke about any of his own health issues, like diabetes.  He preferred talking about his wife Jean, their children, and hunting and fishing.

Joe Murray died a few days ago in Columbia, South Carolina, from complications during gall bladder surgery.  His ashes will be commingled with those of his beloved dog Blue, and spread across the Gulf of Mexico.

His teammates already miss him dearly.  “He was a special person,” said longtime friend and former Wrecker Bobby Lynam.

“I know his passing has left a hole in your heart as it has in mine.  But as long as we remember him he lives on.”

Don’t worry.  No one can forget that special 1967 championship team — or its heart and soul, Joe Murray.



Brighton Beach Memoirs, Brooklyn Memories

Max Samuels’ grandfather grew up in Brooklyn.  The Staples senior heard his stories of that place and time.  Until a couple of weeks ago, though, he’d never really heard them.

But Max is president of Staples Players, so to prepare for their upcoming Black Box production — “Brighton Beach Memoirs” — he invited his grandfather to talk to the cast.

It was a perfect match.  Lou Berlin — now 83 — spent an afternoon describing his youth.  The teenage actors of 2011 now understood much more vividly what it meant to come of age in the 1930s.

Lou talked about his life:  playing stickball and Johnny on the pony in the streets.  Going home from school for lunch.  Watching movies — a newsreel, cartoon and feature — all for a nickel.

When he was finished, the Staples students asked questions.  What was his relationship with his parents and sister?  How did he have fun?  Where did he meet his wife?

The answers helped each actor understand his or her character better.  Including the one who plays the “Brighton Beach” father:  Max Samuels.

Max Samuels and Eva Hendricks get into their "Brighton Beach" roles. (Photo by Kerry Long)

“My grandfather’s father — my great-grandfather — worked a lot,” Max says.  “He had a few jobs, including taxi driver.  Jack does that job too.

“I knew my character worked very hard.  But I didn’t realize that meant he was never home — and when he was, he was exhausted.”

“Brighton Beach Memoirs” has many references to money.  Max’s grandfather explained the importance of every penny during the Depression.  Now, Max says, the cast truly understands what their lines mean.

Max’s grandfather had as much fun that afternoon as the young actors.  This week, they put the final touches on the show.  It opens Friday night (March 4, 7:30 p.m.).

“It’ll be great,” Max promises.  “It’s a very funny show, but at the same time very serious.  On the one hand you’ve got Eugene (Ryan Shea) going through puberty, sharing his memories with the audience.  On the other hand it’s the Great Depression.  The family has to take Jack’s wife’s sister and her 2 daughters in — and feed them.  It was very, very hard.”

The set is “very cool,” Max says.  “It’s actually a house — you can see the upstairs and downstairs.”  The Black Box Theater at Staples is “very intimate,” he adds — “just like Brighton Beach in 1937.”

And just like the bond between Max Samuels and his grandfather — plus, now, the full “Brighton Beach Memoirs” cast.

(In keeping with the “family” theme, Max’s sister Rachel is double-cast as Nora — Jack’s niece.  “Brighton Beach Memoirs” will be performed March 4, 5, 10, 11 and 12 at 7:30 p.m., with a matinee on Sunday, March 6 at 2 p.m.  Click here for tickets and more information.)

The cast (clockwise from bottom): Ryan Shea, Max Samuels, Eva Hendricks, Matt Van Gessel, Sofia Ribolla, Alison Manning, Emily Ressler. (Photo by Kerry Long)

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Trevor Dances With Matt

Trevor Lamb is a 2004 Staples graduate.  A former soccer captain, he played in college, returned to his alma mater as junior varsity coach, then gave in to his wanderlust and decided to explore the world.

He’s in his 2nd year in China — teaching, learning and loving life.

Along the way he heard about Matt Harding — the former video game developer who since 2003 has roamed the planet, filming himself dancing.

Matt became a global sensation. He danced — “badly,” which was part of the charm — in Mongolia, Cambodia, Antarctica, Machu Picchu, Namibia, New York, Fiji and Iceland.

And everywhere in between.

Matt Harding dancing with friends in Papua New Guinea.

Over 75 million folks watched him.  His videos — dancing on a crab-filled South Pacific Beach; in the mountains of Kyrgyzstan; in the slums of Mumbai; in Korea’s DMZ; in the plazas of Buenos Aires and the villages of Africa — are goofy, gleeful, and oddly compelling.

But let Trevor pick up the story:

I’ve been familiar with Matt’s video for some time.  Two weeks ago a friend told me he would be visiting Shanghai.  Unfortunately, I was leaving that same day for Hong Kong.

However, on arriving in Hong Kong I found out that his next stop was — Hong Kong.  So I would have the chance to dance with Matt after all.

The area designated by Matt on his Facebook event page was the “Walk of Stars” boardwalk (Hong Kong’s version of Hollywood’s, with people like Jackie Chan and Jet Li instead of Paul Newman and Arnold).

Groups of people, local and foreigners, young and old, arrived at 8 p.m. as expected.  Matt, however, did not.

Trevor Lamb (last summer at the World Cup in South Africa).

Despite his tardiness there was a great friendly energy in the air.  People were in a festive mood.  Some dressed up in cow, Super Mario, even drag queen outfits to celebrate the occasion.  Everyone talked about dancing with Matt.

Around 8:15 Matt arrived to a hero’s welcome from around 150 pseudo-fans.  We immediately got to business:  Standing in front of Hong Kong’s iconic skyline of triumphant buildings.

First Matt read to us a liability statement that we had to record in case he gets the video commercially sponsored, so no silly dancer can decide he wants a piece of the pie.  Then we tried 4 or 5 takes of dancing — happily, but strangely without music.

Some of the dances were more choreographed than Matt’s standard Irish gig-ish dance, but nothing too fancy — still straight-up Matt-style.  There were a dozen or so cameras recording.  Ironically, the smallest was Matt’s.  The others — from the media and Asian people — overcompensated.

The whole taping took 30 minutes.  Then hordes of people started taking photos with Matt, videos dancing with Matt, even giving Matt their babies to dance and take photos with.  It was like he was a celebrity equal to the names we were dancing on.

I had just arrived in Hong Kong and still had several errands to run, so I didn’t stick around to take photos and chat with Matt.  Later in the evening I  Facebragged that I had danced with the Matt.

That would be the end of the story, except for this:  Trevor had no idea that Matt was a fellow Staples graduate.  Trevor found out when someone — okay, I — commented on his Facebook post.

So Trevor and Matt parted without connecting over their shared high school experience — 8,037 miles from home.

“That made the experience somewhat bittersweet,” Trevor notes.

“Regardless,” he says, “dancing was a great experience, and I remain a strong supporter of the video and project.  It shows how we live in an age in which you can be famous not for being good looking, not even for being particularly talented, but for having an idea to make your dreams real, and in doing so unite scores of people from all corners of the world.”

After all that, he asks, “How can you not have an optimistic view of the future?”

Matt could not be reached for comment.  Wherever he is.

An Oscars Shout-Out To Nick Ordway

It wasn’t Best Picture, Best Director, or even Best Actress in a Supporting Role.

It was “only” Best Short Film, Live Action (“The God of Love,” a romance about a lounge-singing darts champion — why not?).

But the blogosphere was alive this morning, burbling that writer/director/star Luke Matheny gave the best acceptance speech all night.

He joked that he should have gotten a haircut (his hair is huge).  He made a pitch for his special film niche, and hailed “the great state of Delaware.”

And he thanked — by name — his 1st assistant director, Nick Ordway.

Nick Ordway

Nick — a 1998 Staples alum who was very active in Staples Players — is a 2009 NYU Tisch School of the Arts graduate.

Befitting someone involved in an Oscar-winning short film, he’s had a storied career.  Nick studied literature and theatre at Princeton University, then taught English at Chiang Mai University in Thailand.

His films have played at Lincoln Center and on the web.  In addition to directing, Nick freelances as a sound recordist, and teaches film at the School of Cinema and Performing Arts.

We knew  there’d be at least one Westport-themed story from last night’s Oscars.

Any others we missed?

The Concert Crowd

A faithful “06880” reader — who, for neighborly reasons, wishes to remain anonymous — attended 2 recent school concerts.  The music was great.

The crowd’s behavior was not.

The reader wrote:

At middle school performances and then the Staples Winter Concert I noticed (really impossible to miss) that as soon as their kids are done, parents get up and leave.  By the end, when the sophomore orchestra was to play, I would wager that 60% of the audience had departed.

This is so selfish, it’s beyond me.  These kids work hard, and the music is excellent.  Even though my child was on early, we stayed to enjoy the whole show.

What can be so pressing that so many people must get up and leave, showing no respect for the effort all of the kids put in — not to mention the music teachers (for whom it must be really distressing)?

I guess it’s a reflection of the “me first” mentality that people seem to have adopted.  And what was especially bad was when the man in front made a joke about leaving, as he got up to go.

The reader is right.  But — to get myself even more worked up — I showed the email to Staples orchestra director Adele Valovich, and asked her reaction.

He may not be your kid -- but he's someone's.

“I think we’ve lost our civility,” she said, politely but firmly.  “Common courtesy — which was the norm, and which we took for granted — no longer exists in society at large.”

So, she said, “I think it’s our job as teachers to educate the next generation of concert-goers as to correct deportment.”

That includes, Adele said, “staying throughout the entire performance; not being distracted by texting, cell phones or newspapers, and not walking around in the middle of a piece.”

Who knew?

Education begins with music students, Adele said.  “In rehearsals I talk all the time about staying until everyone is finished.  But some kids say their parents make them leave.”

The orchestra leader does not want to “insult” parents.  But, she said, “we may have to establish rules of conduct.”  Through announcements before shows and emails to parents, music educators would say “we expect your children and you to stay for the entire performance.”

Is that what you want your child to see from the stage?

It’s “very discouraging to be the last group playing, and look out to see a very scattered audience,” she noted.

“As a teacher, I know how much work my students put it.  They want to be acknowledged.

The most recent concert — the one the “06880” reader watched more than half the audience flee from — was “an hour and 10 minutes,” Adele said.

“I don’t think that’s an excessive amount of time.”

Adele suggested that “every parent imagine themselves in that last group of performers.  That might change some behavior.

“I think as a society we’ve become very ‘me-oriented’ — in all situations.  We seldom put ourselves in someone else’s shoes.”

Or, it seems, our own children’s orchestra seats.