Head of School - ��Ƶ

��Ƶ Celebrates the Class of 2026 and the Value of Community with Commencement Speaker Amy Rosenfeld ’84

vanessa_dezorzi@concordacademy.org — Thu, 04 Jun 2026 16:27:46 +0000

��Ƶ’s Commencement Exercises for the class of 2026 unfolded beautifully in the Academy Garden on May 29. The morning was bright and breezy as 101 seniors processed in to the strains of a Bach concerto played by student chamber musicians. On the Senior Steps, they sang their class song, the Beatles’ “In My Life,” before taking their seats in front of families, faculty, staff, and friends who had gathered to celebrate them as individuals as well as the spirit of community they had cultivated as a class.

Beginning the speaking program, Jennifer Pline P’13 ’15, co-president of the Board of Trustees, recalled this year’s “deeply reflective, introspective, and self-aware senior chapels” that demonstrated “a level of maturity that feels beyond your years.” She said her favorite way she’s heard this class characterized was as “graceful disruptors,” adding, “I can’t think of a better phrase to describe ��Ƶ grads.” She urged them to return home to ��Ƶ and never lose their commitment to making the world a better place.

Head of School Henry D. Fairfax shared a unique aspect of ��Ƶ’s Commencement, a tradition dating back more than 70 years, of bestowing no awards, prizes, or diplomas with distinction, in recognition of the love of learning the entire student body shares. He advised the seniors, “Run, don’t hurry. This means: Engage in everything you do with a sense of purpose, and have integrity in your effort. Explore and take calculated risks, but don’t rush into anything.” Fairfax also acknowledged the shadow cast this year by the loss of their classmate Louis Montagut ‘26, whose “magnetic spirit revealed a deep sense of community, honor, and love at ��Ƶ.”

Learning through loss was the theme of the remarks by May Zheng ’26, student head of school, who spoke next. From the countless small items lost and returned—pens, water bottles, hoodies—that reflect care for fellow students to irreparable, larger losses, she said, “somehow, for everything I’ve lost, it seems that experiencing it with my class has made it bearable and meaningful.”

Preparing to leave ��Ƶ, she addressed the fear of leaving behind “the person we’ve had the space, privilege, and community to become here … that we have grown into, and used to, and proud of.” Yet she imagined recognizing in others some “undeniable, unapologetic” characteristics her classmates embody today. In this way, “losing is learning,” she said, “To lose this place, this home, is to see it appear again a million times in a million different places. … To ‘commence’ now, we are really saying, ‘I will see you again, because I have known you now.’ That within every absence we experience, there is a celebration of what was once there, what we have lived.”

Following a ��Ƶ Chorus performance of Adele’s “When We Were Young,” Veerawit Sirikantraporn ’26, senior class president, introduced the commencement speaker, Amy Rosenfeld ’84. As the senior vice president of Olympics and Paralympics production at NBC Sports, she led efforts to expand visibility and accessibility at the 2024 and 2026 Games, after overseeing ESPN’s World Cup coverage. In addition to her extensive experience in sports broadcasting and production leadership, Veerawit said, it’s her reputation “as someone who leads with integrity, care, and unity” that embodies characteristics reflected in the ��Ƶ community.

Rosenfeld shared, with a zingy delivery and a knack for comic timing (she said she once wanted to be a late-night television writer) how honored, humbled, “and quite frankly, a bit shocked” she was to have been selected as this year’s commencement speaker. “Let’s just say I was not the model ��Ƶ student,” she said. To much laughter, she read a few illustrative comments she had saved from ��Ƶ teachers concerned about her ability to succeed. Despite those “scathing reviews,” she added, she always had the sense that the faculty was rooting for her, “that they believed that I had something that would resonate and have an impact.”

As a career sports television producer, she has a special place in her heart for global sporting events that can, for just a few weeks at a time, unite the world. She suggested she’d been asked to address this class in alignment with this year’s community life theme, “Building the We,” because community, and one’s ability to contribute to it, “can be one of the most rewarding aspects of life.”

Rosenfeld advised the class of 2026 that the relationships they formed at ��Ƶ will likely play important roles in any future endeavors—precisely how she landed her first sports broadcasting internship. She said she still wears her ��Ƶ ring every day; it reminds her of where she learned “how to have confidence, how to deal with success and, certainly, failure, how to work together as a collective group to get across any finish line … and to have the strength of my own convictions.”

Among other qualities instilled in her at ��Ƶ, Rosenfeld said, was a sense that “I could just be me, that I didn’t have to follow any particular group to fit in,” and that she could take her own path.

“Embracing individuality is what makes a true and honest community—that is what you have here at ��Ƶ,” Rosenfeld said.

She’s often asked what it’s like to be a woman in sports television. “My answer is always the same,” she said. “‘If you believe you belong, you belong.’ It never occurred to me that I shouldn’t be doing precisely what I was doing. ��Ƶ taught me that.”

Rosenfeld told about a time she “failed miserably” in a very public way. Producing a U.S. women’s soccer game, she was too focused on replays, and she missed showing a goal. Afraid her broadcast career was over, she talked herself down out in the parking lot. “I fiddled with my ��Ƶ ring and remembered all the mistakes I had made back then, and despite it all, how that community still believed in me,” she said. She didn’t get fired. She produced enough important soccer matches in the years that followed to be inducted into the U.S. Soccer Hall of Fame.

It’s in adversity that we recognize the value of community, Rosenfeld went on to say. As the members of the class of 2026 go their separate ways and begin new adventures, she advised them to continue leaning on one another and not to worry if they don’t have all the answers—or even if they don’t know what the questions are. While she certainly didn’t always know what decision to make, she says, because of ��Ƶ, she knew who she was and the value she could offer the next community she encountered: “Because of ��Ƶ, I promise you are ready for what’s next.”

In the final portion of the ceremony, diplomas were awarded in random order—a ��Ƶ tradition that both honors every individual and keeps the audience engaged. The final student to be called took home the coveted “commencement sock,” a tube sock filled with cash donations from the class, with a little extra thrown in by alums.

Afterward, the new graduates made their way through a receiving line, sharing parting hugs and handshakes with faculty and staff, before joining their families for a reception behind the Elizabeth B. Hall Chapel. The ceremony concluded the 2025–26 school year on a note of gratitude for the space to cultivate individual expression and, above all, the enduring bonds of community.

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Hall Fellow Rayner Ramirez ’88 Champions Deep Listening and Responsible Storytelling

vanessa_dezorzi@concordacademy.org — Thu, 18 Dec 2025 20:58:17 +0000

When 2025–26 Hall Fellow Rayner Ramirez ’88 visited ��Ƶ on December 5, he came bearing gifts for ��Ƶ’s library: a boom box, some of his old mixtapes, and a copy of Working, Studs Terkel’s 1974 oral history of regular Americans discussing their work, which Ramirez had encountered as a ��Ƶ student. He said that reading it planted the seed for his documentary filmmaking career: “It was the first time I realized that ordinary people’s stories are amazing, and I wanted to be part of telling them.”

��Ƶ named Ramirez this year’s Hall Fellow to honor his thoughtful, purpose-driven storytelling about the human experience, focused on marginalized communities. An Emmy and duPont award-winning producer, he has combined investigative journalism and cinematic techniques to explore complex causes of conflict and uplift stories of compassion, resilience, and recovery. For two decades, he worked as a network news and documentary producer for Dateline NBC, NBC News, and CBS News, and he helped launch the cable channel Fusion, a joint venture between ABC News and Univision. In 2016, he and Amber Payne, his wife and business partner, co-founded the production company . Its mission is to create documentary films with depth and integrity that can change perspectives.

Though others entrust him with their stories every day, when he spoke at ��Ƶ, Ramirez said telling his own was “kind of uncomfortable.” Perhaps that’s why he began talking about his childhood by establishing historical context: The Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965 opened the U.S. for the first time to non-European immigrants—people from Asian, African, and Latin American countries—including his family, who came from the Philippines. His uncle emigrated first, then his mother, who worked in New York for two years before she could arrange for Ramirez and his sister to join her. At 10, having previously attended a strict Catholic school in Manila, he found New York City’s streets and his public school chaotic. In junior high, he began to get into some trouble.

“If it weren’t for this one teacher who believed in my potential, I wouldn’t be here,” he said. That teacher connected him with A Better Chance, a scholarship program that helps prepare and place students from underserved communities in independent schools.

“I was amazed and impressed by this place,” Ramirez said. Right away at ��Ƶ, he got into the visual arts, photography, and filmmaking, which spurred his interest in visual storytelling. One of his first classes was an animation course; he made a film about a glove missing its match—its “one true glove.” Later, he made several narrative Super 8 films before trying his hand at documentary filmmaking his senior year.

One of his final projects for a film class was a documentary about the U.S. Immigration Reform and Control Act of 1986, which granted asylum to 3 million people. He interviewed migrants who had come to Boston to work and were pursuing citizenship. “It was a terrible, terrible production,” Ramirez said, “but it opened up my mind to being a teller of other people’s stories.”

He also said ��Ƶ’s “culture of learning” expanded his sense of possibility. Designing an independent study to learn about the history of the Philippines, he said, “showed me that I could actually be the activator of my own learning and my own education.”

After graduating, during a gap year in New Mexico, he read an article in the New York Times about Pagsanjan, a village in the Philippines where Apocalypse Now had been filmed. He knew the place: His grandmother had grown up nearby.

“It was told in this sort of orientalist point of view, and that article just bothered me,” he said. “I thought I could tell the story from a different perspective.” He raised a small amount of money, including $300 from ��Ƶ—enough to get him into preproduction and hire local crews to film in the Philippines for three days. A year later, he returned to ��Ƶ to present the film.

After graduating from Eugene Lang College of Liberal Arts at the New School, Ramirez worked as a carpenter while making independent documentaries, before earning his graduate degree in journalism at Columbia University. He went straight into a job at NBC News. “I had this academic pedigree, a very pretentious film pedigree, and I was reading the New York Times and the Economist—I had not watched TV news in years,” he said. “My North Star in being at the networks was to make sure that underrepresented people’s stories were on the air.”

His first pitch was about the Filipino veterans who had fought alongside U.S. soldiers during World War II and had never received the benefits they’d been promised. “I had lined up everybody,” Ramirez said. “I was really excited. I was going to get the story on air, and they were like, ‘No, sorry. It’s not big enough.’”

Ramirez weathered many more disappointing responses from the networks, and he worried he had sold out, working for a corporate media conglomerate. “But it never stopped me,” he said. “I just kept pitching and pitching.”

He also made the most of opportunities that came his way. In his first assignment for Dateline NBC, over the course of a summer, he followed a family of migrant berry pickers (U.S. citizens) from their home in the Rio Grande Valley, in Texas, to Michigan. Recalling that their van regularly broke down along the way, Ramirez said, “The hardest part was being an observer, standing back and filming the whole time. It was really difficult for me to do, but it showed me the resiliency of the children.” He kept in touch with them; several years later, he did a follow-up story about the kids who had traveled and picked berries alongside their parents, after many of them had graduated from high school and college.

For 20 years, Ramirez produced stories about immigration, terrorism, health care, climate change, drug wars, human rights, and natural disasters. But he found the networks confining. “Broadcast news is very limited in terms of storytelling,” he said. “It’s often binary. There’s always good versus evil. You have to find the bad guys in the stories, and it’s not like that. It’s always much more complicated than that.” He took a leap to become an independent producer so that he could tell stories the way he wanted, “from a perspective of asset-framing, not deficit-framing,” he said.

The first documentary Tilt Shift Media produced was about the Harlem Children’s Zone, which interwove interviews with video shot by kids in Harlem in the 1980s and ’90s. “They had been sitting on this for decades because they wanted to tell their own story,” Ramirez said. “For years, Harlem had been depicted by the press very negatively, while people there were working to change and transform these communities. We wanted to tell stories about people of color.”

The project gave Ramirez a chance to look back at the New York he had grown up in during the ’80s, to tell its story from the perspective of communities coming together. “I beat the odds, right, coming from New York City, from an immigrant background,” he said. “Their concept was changing the odds for this community, rather than beating the odds for individuals.”

For Ramirez, it was a paradigm shift. “These stories of people making transformative change in their communities, it’s infectious, it’s inspiring,” he said. “You want to do it—you want to make a change. That opened up our whole world.”

He said that one of the great privileges of his work is listening to people: “There’s a lot of division—we’re all living in different silos—but I think we all want the same thing for ourselves, for our kids. We all want to feel good about doing something for our community, for others. Some people may disagree about what that action is, but you want to feel good about yourself. I think deep listening to understand is one of the hardest things we can do, especially these days, but we could use a lot more of it.”

Ramirez said responsible storytelling means not being arrogant when entering a community, being open to “even the craziest pitches,” and getting the facts right. “The journalism industry is under attack, and we need to be as factual and as truthful as possible,” he said. “Fact-checking is key right now to gain back trust in the process.”

He reflected on the rise of social media and the decline of trust in traditional news sources as disinformation, artificial intelligence, and algorithms have complicated how we stay informed. Ramirez said he’d like to see kids being taught media literacy at a younger age and journalism considered a skilled trade rather than a lofty endeavor. He also highlighted opportunities for young people “to use their phones in a positive way” to learn the skills of fact-based storytelling. “And you guys have a full-fledged studio here in the C.A.C. now,” he said. “It’s really impressive. You should use it.”

Noting the numerous writers and filmmakers in ��Ƶ’s alum community, he advised students to tap into the ��Ƶ network. “And read Working,” he added. “It’s just one of those great books that leaves a mark on you and sends you on a trajectory, even if you’re not sure where to start.”

The ��Ƶ Board of Trustees established the Elizabeth B. Hall Fellowship in 1963 to honor the legacy of former headmistress Betty Hall. For more than 60 years, this endowed lectureship has brought distinguished individuals to speak on campus, many of them ��Ƶ alums, including recent Hall Fellows Adam Geer ’99 and Caitlin FitzGerald ’02.

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“Delight in the Hard Work of Becoming”: ��Ƶ Celebrates Class of 2025 with Commencement Speaker Max Hall

vanessa_dezorzi@concordacademy.org — Wed, 04 Jun 2025 15:03:04 +0000

Sunlight and shade alternated throughout the morning of May 30 as ��Ƶ graduated the class of 2025. Only after every traditional aspect of Commencement concluded—from the senior breakfast to the faculty and staff receiving line—did fine weather give way to rain during the reception. Accented by performances from a student string ensemble and Chorus, it was a beautiful occasion, the first held in the spaciously redesigned Academy Garden between the new Centennial Arts Center and the Elizabeth B. Hall Chapel.

Reflecting the school’s educational philosophy, ��Ƶ’s Commencement includes several unique elements. ��Ƶ students graduate without awards, prizes, or diplomas with distinction—a tradition dating back more than 70 years, “in deference to our shared love of learning and focus on the process of transformation over the end product,” as Head of School Henry Fairfax remarked. In addition to honoring each individual, ��Ƶ’s ceremony also emphasizes community: The class processes down the Senior Steps, pausing to sing a class song (this year, “Take on the World,” the Girl Meets World theme song), seniors applaud the faculty and staff who have mentored them, and attendees also recognize their families.

Jen Burleigh ’85, co-president of the Board of Trustees, highlighted the continuity in ��Ƶ’s spirit and school culture that such traditions reflect. Having herself graduated in the same place, 40 years ago to the day, she recalled that, then too, seniors received their diplomas in random order. The commencement sock, she added, is a more recent but “fun and worthwhile addition to the ceremony.” (Filled with financial contributions from the class, the sock is given to the last senior called to the podium; anticipation keeps the occasion lively.)

Describing the class of 2025 in the words of teachers, parents, and peers, Burleigh praised the “remarkable courage and vulnerability” of their chapels, the wisdom of their senior advice, and their steadiness throughout a transitional time at ��Ƶ. Above all, she said, their “ability to model community and unity and caretaking is a rare and special skill,” one the world needs more of and which will enrich every community these graduates join.

Looking forward to her own milestone reunion next week, Burleigh also encouraged ��Ƶ’s soon-to-be newest alums to stay connected as they move through the coming years and decades—with their teachers, their friends, and the school.

Malik Traore ’25, student head of school, emphasized “compassion, curiosity, and community” during his speech. Reflecting on his class’s experience, he recalled how their 9th-grade year unfolded with masks and weekly COVID tests, and their later years, with changes in school leadership and campus construction.

“We definitely aren’t the loudest class, but we have left an impression on ��Ƶ by being consistent, unified, and showing everyone moments of joyful chaos,” he said, while leading with “kindness and empathy.”

Malik’s advice to younger students: “Time flies. Remember to get off your screens, live in the moment, … try new things, talk to different people, explore new places, and make the most of what ��Ƶ has to offer.”

Introducing this year’s commencement speaker, Kefan Cui ’25, senior class president, spoke about this “true role model” from personal experience, having spent time with him in Makers Alley and the maker space. Former ��Ƶ science faculty member Max Hall, who started DEMONs, ��Ƶ’s engineering club, in the mid-2000s, “always pushed every student he taught to be their best self, both intellectually and personally,” Kefan said. “Max mentored his students by working alongside them, always assuming and believing they could accomplish anything they set their sights on. At his core, Max sees the possibility in every challenge and the potential in every person.”

Hall began his commencement address with familiar, self-deprecating humor, describing the difficulty he had at first in understanding that he’d been asked to be the speaker. What moved him to accept, he said, was realizing, “This is ��Ƶ being ��Ƶ: I was invited to do something new and scary and awesome, for about the millionth time.”

It’s precisely what the school does, Hall said: “��Ƶ keeps inviting us to try one more thing, a little more difficult, and a little more awesome, than the last. ��Ƶ keeps inviting us to grow.”

This is possible because the community is full of people who want to grow, he added: As the school changes year by year, it “keeps filling and refilling itself with adults and with students who respond, enthusiastically, ‘yes!’” And one of the best things about being a teacher at ��Ƶ was his students’ insistence upon growth, progress, and quality, he said.

In 21 years of teaching at ��Ƶ, Hall said, he experienced how challenging this kind of learning can be. For “people who delight in the hard work of becoming,” which Hall termed “a fair description of just about everyone in ��Ƶ’s community,” sometimes easing up may be what’s needed, sometimes staying the course. He also reflected that some of his own worst mistakes brought him “to some of the best transformative moments.”

Remember those times—when “you needed to be forgiven, not cancelled,” when you “got a chance to mend what you broke,” and when “someone else knocked you off your track, and even if it took a while, you offered forgiveness”—he said. They’re what ��Ƶ’s central value of common trust is all about, and what the class of 2025 can take with them as they move out into the world.

“Trust is a reservoir that fills or drains with every choice you make,” he added. “Fill it. Grow trust.”

Hall urged the graduating class to embrace being Chameleons: “Keep moving, keep leveling up. Find the other people who say, ‘Well, that’s a crazy idea—when do we start?’”

“It’s messy and exhausting, seeking wisdom and finding kindness,” Hall concluded. “But that’s your jam. You revel in the hard work of becoming. Let’s go.”

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2025 Joan Shaw Herman Award Honors Street Lab Creators Leslie Taylor Davol ’87 and Sam Davol ’88

vanessa_dezorzi@concordacademy.org — Fri, 02 May 2025 19:42:44 +0000

What happens when design sensibility meets community engagement? The experiences offers highlight the possibilities: pop-up public reading rooms, building stations, writing areas, and street-chalking activities; portable urban nature exhibits and community tables; summer cooling stations and open-air art studios. Founded by Leslie Taylor Davol ’87 and Sam Davol ’88, the nonprofit organization is transforming the street-level environment of New York City—one block and one face-to-face interaction at a time. On April 28, ��Ƶ presented the Davols with the 2025 Joan Shaw Herman Award for Distinguished Service for their commitment to activating public spaces and improving lives in low-income urban neighborhoods.

Leslie and Sam, who met as ��Ƶ students and are married, spent most of April 28 at ��Ƶ when they accepted the honor. Before presenting at an assembly, they connected with Head of School Henry Fairfax and chatted with students and faculty at a luncheon. They also spoke with students in Chris Rowe and Jessica Cloutier-Plasse’s architectural engineering class, answering questions about their role as producers in a process of design and deployment that brings community visions to life.

Whether it’s a rollable kiosk that expands from a road case or a sturdy but lightweight bench that folds like origami, each type of pop-up Street Lab produces is custom-built, stylish, easily packable, modular for ease of repair, and durable. They all get used again and again. “Architects sometimes focus on making installations that are quite big but then get torn down or thrown away, and that breaks my heart,” Sam told the class. “We prefer designs that can be reused and improved over time. We’ve stuck with some designs for more than 10 years, and even as we keep changing them, nothing really gets thrown away—physically, or an idea.”

The neighbor-to-neighbor scale of their pop-ups means Street Lab can act quickly to try out new ideas. Leslie said, “We often put prototypes on the street right away, so people can help test it, and also benefit from it.” She gave an example of an obstacle course they designed with mesh barriers for kids to jump over. “The first day we brought it out, it was so beautiful and we thought we had designed it for wind, but it all blew over with the first gust.” The version now in use has wooden frames with circular cutouts.

As they shared with the class, they’re intentionally focused on intergenerational appeal. “Our play streets make space and seating for adults—seniors, in particular, who often are caregivers of the children,” Sam said. “As you get older, getting out of a chair is different, so we consider the heights, the backs, stuff like that.” Street Lab also offers a misting river to cool off in during the summer—an offering more accessible to a variety of ages, unlike the dog days tradition of opening fire hydrants for kids to beat the heat.

Leslie said that considering the needs of different stakeholders is fundamental to their approach: As they respond to community requests, they also try to align their programming with existing government priorities. “It opens the door to solving permitting issues, and you can get connected to different kinds of resources like shared trucking, for example,” she said. “Those kinds of relationships are crucial if you want to do something with public space.”

At the assembly, Fairfax introduced the Davols and spoke about the Joan Shaw Herman Award. “As a community that usually eschews prizes and honors in favor of celebrating individuality, creativity, and collaboration,” he said, the school’s annual tradition of honoring alums who inspire by example testifies to the “shared value of service to others that we as ��Ƶ members uphold.”

Aurora Hao ’25, who served as a student rep on the Joan Shaw Herman Award selection committee, reflected on Joan Shaw Herman ’46, the award’s namesake. Herman contracted polio the summer after her graduation. Though she was confined to an iron lung, she worked devotedly to improve the lives of others with disabilities. “Joan Shaw Herman Award recipients embody the ��Ƶ ideals of empathy, integrity, and responsibility as they personally strive to build a more just and sustainable future for all,” Aurora said.

During their presentation, the Davols first delivered a well-honed pitch: a visually engaging tour of the kinds of neighborhood-building experiences Street Lab brings to life. They deploy 15 types of pop-ups that make a place for learning, play, and community, 500 times a year, citywide, 95% of them in low-income areas. They also work with more than 30 community groups every year to close streets temporarily to traffic and create space for people to gather in areas where public safety and a lack of open space have been long-standing challenges. To make this all possible, they design and fabricate pop-up infrastructure, and they send their designs to other cities around the world that want to copy their model.

The pop-ups and street programming are ephemeral by nature, lasting only an afternoon. But their impact lasts far longer. As Leslie said during the pitch, “One teen recently showed me a picture on his phone of himself from 10 years before, sitting and reading a book at one of our first pop-up reading rooms. This is pop-up that changes lives.”

The relationships Street Lab cultivates have also paved the way for more lasting changes in some neighborhoods. Occasionally, that’s a pedestrianized plaza, but more often it’s seeing partners empowered to continue Street Lab’s mission in their own ways. “We get community groups working side by side with city agencies, building trust, solving problems together,” Sam said. “I think this might be the most significant result of some of our work: showing a way that New Yorkers can work together alongside government to make the city better today.”

For the second part of the assembly, the Davols then shared their personal story. They structured it around four challenging moments when things didn’t turn out as they had expected. As Sam said, “Everyone I’ve ever met out there who’s trying to do something in the world, to make a difference, struggles, often deeply sometimes.”

First came 9/11. After graduating from ��Ƶ, Leslie had studied art history, completed a master’s in American studies, and worked at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and other museums. Sam had studied social anthropology, earned a law degree, and was working as an attorney in the Legal Aid Society’s civil division. On the day of the terrorist attacks in 2001, they were raising a young daughter, and Leslie was pregnant with their son. They were apart at the time; later they safely reunited, but the events of that day shifted everything. “Our neighborhood, our city, and our lives had been changed,” Leslie said. “In a way, everything that Sam and I have done in cities and public space is an attempt to create what we wanted on September 12 and the days that followed.”

Leslie was working in a new role, helping to rebuild the World Trade Center site, when their daughter stopped speaking in school. To help her, they quit their jobs and moved to the Boston area to be near family. It was there, in Chinatown, where their apartment faced a littered empty lot, that they had the idea to host a Chinese language outdoor film festival. It was the first thing they’d ever produced together, and they were nervous, but the event was a success. Films at the Gate is now approaching its 20th anniversary.

Their neighborhood also didn’t have a library. The Davols wanted to see the values of learning and literacy reflected on the street, so they sourced donations of 5,000 books and transformed a vacant shop into a storefront library, which operated from 2009 through 2010. There they developed the sorts of programming that eventually became their pop-up approach. They even experimented with a writer-in-residence: Jared Green ’88, P’22 ’28.

Ultimately, though, the storefront model didn’t prove viable. As they faced that reality, the Davols decided to create a portable version they could bring to the streets—and to launch it back in New York City, where it could scale and grow. As self-described “urbanists,” they saw New York’s potential for more efficient living with “smaller private spaces, more public spaces, fewer cars, more public transportation, more interdependence, and a shared belief in looking out for each other when the moment called for it.”

Funding their project through Kickstarter, they partnered with architects to create a portable library, but the large design, though eye-catching, was cumbersome to transport. For nearly 40 years, Sam has toured as a cellist as a member of the band The Magnetic Fields (along with Claudia Gonson ’86), and among his touring road cases the Davols found the idea for their second approach.

On the P.A.C. stage, Sam wheeled out a box that in a single movement unfolded into a mobile book display. “The lighter our footprint, the more impact we could have,” Leslie said.

In less than two years, Street Lab tripled in size. Everything seemed to be going well until in 2020 they faced their third major hurdle: the COVID pandemic. Again, they found the setback opened up new opportunities. Suddenly in the time of social distancing, they were flooded with requests for outdoor pop-ups, and collaborated with architects on new pandemic-appropriate designs. On the same day public restrictions were lifted in New York City, Street Lab set out a no-touch obstacle course. The city began closing streets to cars to make space for public gatherings. As Sam said, the Davols saw a once-in-a-lifetime chance to “unseat the dominance of the car in city streets.”

With their varieties of pop-ups growing, the Davols secured a larger warehouse and hired an urban planner and a community organizer. Just when they had established a thriving, expanding ecosystem for their work, following the November 2024 elections, new funding cuts eliminated nearly half of their budget.

“There’s an active dismantling of all kinds of service going on right now, as you know, not just Street Lab,” Leslie said. “This is the current chapter of our story. It’s not the last. We will survive this, and we’re figuring out new ways to move forward.”

Amid a new intensive focus on fundraising, they’ve noticed more and more young people have been reaching out to work with them. “There’s an energy, determination, and urgency in their voices that reminds us of us, the reasons we embarked on this journey, and the core of what service means to us,” Leslie said. In turn, they’ve inspired her and Sam to start a youth program to bring New York public high school students into all aspects of Street Lab’s work.

They had some advice for ��Ƶ students: “If you’re unafraid to start small, caring for the places right around you, your neighborhood, your block, things have a way of unfolding and growing from there,” Sam said. “So if you want a career in service, maybe don’t wait—just start serving right where you are now.”

Before they departed, the couple reflected on their visit, and on ��Ƶ’s school culture. Besides being the place he learned to write (“that is increasingly rare, unfortunately”), Sam said, “One of ��Ƶ’s strengths is making a space where everyone feels like they’re connected.” He drew a connection to what Street Lab does today: creating spaces where people who may not know each other feel comfortable engaging together.

Empowering others is their priority. “If this is going to spread, it’s not just me and Leslie; it’s not just Street Lab, even,” Sam said. “It’s how we’re making it possible for other people to do this type of work.”

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2025 Hall Fellow Adam Geer ’99 Visits ��Ƶ With Focus on Justice for Communities

vanessa_dezorzi@concordacademy.org — Fri, 07 Mar 2025 17:44:01 +0000

“The status quo can be a crippling thing,” Adam Geer ’99 said while visiting ��Ƶ as the 2025 Hall Fellow. Geer serves as Philadelphia’s first chief public safety officer, charged with building trust between communities and law enforcement and coordinating efforts among city agencies to combat gun violence and dismantle open-air drug markets. He spoke from the Performing Arts Center Stage on February 28, 2025, about the challenges, and the necessity, of working collaboratively to create conditions that better serve communities.

How does a self-described “rule-follower” committed to working within the system approach systemic change? For Geer, his commitment to justice is a North Star and working relationally is indispensable. He emphasized that, although systems are notoriously slow to shift, steady engagement in community-driven solutions can improve lives.

As an example, Geer cited a coalition that introduced legislation to discontinue an inequitable reading comprehension test for Pennsylvania police officers. The previous test, required since the 1960s, asked questions about passages on topics as irrelevant as impressionist painters. “It was more difficult than the SATs,” Geer said, and it disproportionately impacted individuals without that cultural experience, particularly people of color.

In a free-flowing conversation, answering questions from Head of School Henry Fairfax and ��Ƶ students, Geer also reflected on his early years. Having grown up in a small town in upstate New York, he said that as a teenager considering high schools, he “wanted to go to a place that matched my spirit … an open place that would be challenging for me, that valued inclusion, that valued community, where I could be myself.”

��Ƶ “accelerated” his personal values of inclusion, open-mindedness, and curiosity, he said. While he tried to do everything as a student, he was especially involved in music and drawn to the visual arts, learning to work in batik and clay. As a boarder, Geer found in ��Ƶ “a judgment-free zone” where “you could live in your own skin.” He grew out his hair and began wearing dashikis, exploring his own style while following the example older students set of valuing individuality and encouraging self-expression.

Geer said his ��Ƶ education exerted a “gravitational pull” that changed his trajectory. He saw the value of diversity. “Organizations that are more diverse, in all the ways you can think of diversity, perform better,” Geer said. “This community, because it has chosen to value diversity, will perform better. You just have more access to more ideas, to more different things. That is valuable.” And in a leadership role, he added, “you want to have differences of opinions around you, you want to have people who have different lived experience, bring something different—it just makes your product better.”

After graduating from New York University and Temple University Law School, Geer became a prosecutor. He briefly tried civil law but realized it wasn’t for him. Returning to social service, he served as assistant district attorney, prosecuting homicides, before becoming the deputy inspector general for public safety, a position created to audit and investigate policing practices to improve public trust. He began his current role directing the Office of Public Safety in January 2024. The position was developed from the conviction that “we cannot police ourselves out of violent crime” but must also put resources toward prevention and intervention.

Geer discussed the enormity of the challenge in Kensington, a Philadelphia neighborhood plagued by street drugs and gun violence. In the U.S., he explained, the primary mechanism for dealing with mental health crises and addiction is the criminal justice system, but public health needs to be involved. “I think we’re getting to a point as a society where we realize we can’t police mental health or substance use disorder,” he said. “The challenge is now changing the system to address that and convincing folks, often, that the resources need to be shifted.”

Geer said he cares both about treating people who are struggling in a “dignified way” and responding to the suffering of a community where children are exposed to trauma daily. Those dual concerns are driving him and partners across public service agencies to test new approaches.

“We have to try something,” he said. “We have to change the systems we can change. We have to make progress. That’s what your job is when you’re a public servant. Just throwing your hands up and saying I can’t do anything about it is not an option.”

Geer has built his career on fostering trust and finding common ground. He said what he took from ��Ƶ—access to different perspectives and the ability to find something in common “even if you completely disagree with someone”—has been central to his ability to achieve short-term goals while working toward a longer-term social vision.

Asked how his perspective on work and success has evolved, Geer grew teary-eyed. He called returning to ��Ƶ to speak with students as a Hall Fellow the honor of his career. “This is a pinch-me kind of a moment,” he said. “Because you don’t want to measure your success, but this to me feels like success.”

He offered students some advice: Keep an open mind. Try different things. Be clear-eyed about your talents, values, and interests and see what line of work seems a good match. Take risks.

“Some people might have told you that you can’t change the world,” Geer said. “I’m telling you that you can change the world. You will change the world. I know that you will.” He urged determination, resilience, and adaptability and emphasized the importance of working locally while keeping a wider perspective. Know that while downtimes are inevitable, he said, “the trajectory is upwards.”

During his Hall Fellow visit, Geer attended a chapel, met with students and school leaders, and enjoyed a luncheon with a few friends from his ��Ƶ days. He also engaged in a U.S. History: Crime and Punishment research seminar taught by Stephanie Manzella P’14 ’17 ’18. There he spoke with juniors and seniors who were in the process of selecting research topics.

He told them why he had been drawn to prosecution. “It wasn’t because I love punishing people,” he joked. Rather, he said, he wanted to be the advocate tasked with achieving justice in the courtroom for victims of crime—and for their families and communities.

With the ease of a seasoned teacher, Geer helped Manzella’s students understand that, although the legal system is set up to be adversarial, the best prosecutors and defense attorneys work very well together, toward the same goal of ensuring a robust defense and a fair trial—meeting the criminal courts’ high standard of reasonable doubt for conviction. Working that way “reinforces the sanctity of the criminal justice system,” he said.

When a student asked if he had ever been sympathetic to someone who committed a crime in response to abuse, Geer expressed empathy while insisting, “We can’t allow vigilantism. … We want the courts to be the sole arbiter of these situations. We can acknowledge the circumstances, but we can’t take the law into our own hands.”

Geer also shared more about what Philadelphia’s Office of Public Safety has been coordinating as an alternative to the punitive approach to addiction that hadn’t worked in Kensington, which has the highest rate of violent crime in the city and the largest open-air drug market in the U.S. He explained that Pennsylvania law doesn’t allow the use of a civil tool to remove a person from the street for being under the influence of a substance, even if they appear to be a threat to themselves or someone else. “We don’t have many great tools for dealing with folks who are in the worst way,” he said.

A new pilot program is changing the terms on a local level. Established in January 2025, the downgrades drug possession from a misdemeanor to a summary offense, allowing the police to engage individuals with mental health crises or substance use disorder while minimizing consequences to encourage participation. They have the option of a same-day trial on the lesser charge—the same as for a parking ticket—or access to treatment and housing assistance. “We don’t want them going to prison,” Geer said. “We do want them getting a fair shot at access to services.”

The slow work of systems change is “like moving mountains, but there are folks who can do it and want to do it,” he said. “I’ve seen it and done it myself.”

Asked how he remains engaged and optimistic, Geer was unshakeable. “We have to,” he said. “We can’t let our systems fall apart. That would have the most impact on the very folks we want to try to protect.”

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Family Weekend Brings ��Ƶ Community Together

vanessa_dezorzi@concordacademy.org — Wed, 30 Oct 2024 22:34:50 +0000

Crisp and sunny fall days set the perfect stage as ��Ƶ welcomed more than 500 guests to campus for Family Weekend. On October 25 and 26, 2024, parents, guardians, and even some siblings of ��Ƶ students got a sense of classes in action, plus a broad range of student activities, including ensemble performances, dance demonstrations, and soccer, field hockey, and volleyball competitions. The fall mainstage play, Radium Girls, also had a spotlight, with three shows in the Performing Arts Center.

Greeting families in the Chapel on Friday morning, ��Ƶ Parents President Jared Johnson P’25 acknowledged “how deeply the ��Ƶ staffulty care about and respect your students.” He gestured to the Centennial Arts Center construction site nearby, which many parents were eager to tour during their visit. “As impressive as that building is, ��Ƶ has never really been about its physical structure or its campus,” he said. “Rather, I think it’s about the community we have here, and that makes this space truly special.”

Head of School Henry Fairfax applauded the leadership of the senior class, which has set an inspirational tone for students and campus adults. He spoke about the tradition of senior chapels and collaborative undertakings unique to ��Ƶ, such as a recent Feature Film Project course. “This community asks, ‘How can we be the best versions of ourselves and make a difference in the world?’” he said. After he recognized the entire community’s support for the successful recent conclusion of the Centennial Campaign, he thanked parents for a different type of ongoing support: their partnership during a critical period in students’ lives. The weekend, he highlighted, was an opportunity for ��Ƶ to learn from families as much as they were learning about ��Ƶ.

Amid many chances to connect with the school and socially with one another, parents and guardians met with advisors and faculty from the Science, English, Modern and Classical Languages, and Computer Science Departments. They were also invited to panel discussions to learn more about the college counseling process and the academic experience.

As Assistant Head for Academics and Equity Rob Munro shared, ��Ƶ offered 279 courses this year for its 416 students—“more than most high schools and a lot of small colleges.” The curricular breadth helps ��Ƶ students go deep into their areas of interest and discover new ones.

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Running—But Not Hurrying

heidi_koelz@concordacademy.org — Tue, 23 Jul 2024 17:10:55 +0000

On May 4, 2023, as ��Ƶ’s 11th head of school. The Student Health and Athletic Center (SHAC) was filled with students, faculty, staff, current board members, as well as former board presidents, and the extended families of Henry and his wife, Ivy.

The cool, misty spring event began at 9:30 a.m. with a student performance of Stevie Wonder’s “,” led by vocalist and guitarist Andrew Wood-Sue Wing ’25. Fay Lampert Shutzer ’65, president of the Board of Trustees, greeted the more than 600 guests. She also shared the story of the leadership transition during her student years from Elizabeth “Betty” Hall—for whom the Chapel is named—to David Aloian, who perpetuated Mrs. Hall’s class called “Stuff” and added his own mark: teaching young women how to change a tire, using his wood-paneled station wagon as a classroom.

Noting Fairfax’s work ethic immediately upon his appointment, she quoted Fairfax’s mantra for moving forward the most important work. “He is ‘running but not hurrying,’” she said. Shutzer then introduced Community and Equity Co-Heads Aisha Aina Tasso ’23 and Kadija Bah ’23. The students, who shared the podium, said that places like ��Ƶ were not designed for people like them. Bah said that, of course, Fairfax can’t yet have all of the answers, but, noted Tasso, he moved his office to be closer to students and connect with them. She also appreciated that Fairfax is committed not just “[to] striving for equity, but running toward it.”

English teacher Sabrina Sadique also addressed those gathered. She explained that, being from Bangladesh and Muslim, she was both honored and excited to be part of the rewriting of the ��Ƶ mission and ensuring that equity was included. It was 2016, and she had recently become a naturalized U.S. citizen during a time when political polarization had escalated palpably, she said. “I am as legal here as legal gets,” she said, while also noting a decline in civil discourse at that time. When COVID struck, and classes were put on hold for an uncertain period, she remembers that she was teaching The Book of Job. She also referenced the virtual commencement of 2020 at which time the country was still processing the murder of George Floyd four days before. She said that Fairfax revealed in early conversations that “striving for equity” is the part of the mission that drew him to ��Ƶ.

“Implicit in striving is not merely the imperative for ceaseless renewal of actions, but also our transcendental capacity to keep fighting in the face of failure,” she said. “And to struggle, as I know it, is the kiln that forges self-knowledge—the very condition that dazzles our blind spots into light.”

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Guest speakers included Tom Wilcox P’01, who served for 19 years as ��Ƶ’s eighth head of school as well as Fairfax’s best friend Ashley Howard, whom he met in sixth grade on a basketball court.

Wilcox has known Fairfax for 19 years—since 2004 when Fairfax was the director of the Foundations Program at the McDonogh School in Baltimore, an institution that identifies and supports first-generation students and families at independent schools. “You should know that nominating Henry to be your head was one of the greatest moments in my life, surpassed only by him telling me that he had indeed been asked to serve our school,” Wilcox said.

Howard told the story of how he and Fairfax met at basketball camp in 1993. They both loved basketball, and played thousands of hours together—including their college years at Drexel University—over the last 30 years. While Howard is now assistant basketball coach at Villanova University, Fairfax ultimately landed at ��Ƶ.

Henry and I care about a lot of the same things: equity, providing access to education, and recognizing the pain and joy of being part of a great team,” Howard said. “We care about making an impact on those around us. … I’m honored to have a person of Henry’s integrity, energy, and wisdom as my friend.”

Ashley introduced Fairfax as the final speaker of the morning. Fairfax shared his love and appreciation for his family and friends in attendance as well as his appreciation for the ��Ƶ community.

Fairfax closed the morning’s remarks, sharing his personal journey and his “why” for becoming a lifelong educator. “Competition and humility do not have to be in conflict or paradoxical concepts,” he said. “��Ƶ family, I’d like for us to work together to find the intersection of humility, collaboration, and vigorous competition. I believe these ingredients breed champions.

He also addressed equity, a throughline of the installation. “Let me be [clear]. I intend to make sure that striving for equity and honoring the individual occur in perpetuity. However exhausting, uncomfortable, and humbling that work might be, it is who we are and part of our institutional superpower.”

Story by Heather Sullivan
Photographs by Nicholas Pfosi

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A Letter from ��Ƶ’s Next Head of School, Henry Fairfax

Nicholas Pfosi — Wed, 27 Oct 2021 19:56:40 +0000

Dear members of the ��Ƶ community,

I am so incredibly honored to continue my learning and leading journey at ��Ƶ. At 100 years young, ��Ƶ continues to possess a growth mindset evidenced by a love of learning shared by each community member. Striving for equity is a vulnerable explanation of the process it takes to unite a community regardless of race, gender, sexual orientation, religion, zip code, and all that makes diversity necessary and beautiful. Principles of common trust enable us to respect our differences and to navigate the sometimes challenging moments that come with growth. I had to look no further than Chapel to see it exemplified when I visited campus just five weeks ago.

I relish the opportunity to partner with a distinguished board of trustees, faculty, and staff to guide the 406 amazing students at ��Ƶ. My family and I look forward to cheering with parents and guardians at plays, musical performances, and games. I cannot wait to hit the road to meet as many ��Ƶ alumnae/i as possible. Please know that team Fairfax is also game for a “living room visit” at our new home on Main Street. This is an open invitation to sit with us in our space for as long as we join you in yours.

On Saturday morning, when I learned I would be granted the opportunity to serve the special community and mission that is ��Ƶ, I was busy “parenting”—in this case, coaching basketball while doing yard work. I had a broom and dustpan in one hand, a basketball in the other, and three little humans in my sights. Parenting is a healthy distraction when you are trying to lead a school. Few things could ever take me away from my favorite weekend pastime: my family. ��Ƶ managed to shift my attention this weekend. But if I am being truthful, ��Ƶ and its distinct mission has been on my mind for the last six months, and for good reason. From the very beginning of the process, it has felt like a “home game,” and I am committed to making certain that every person affiliated with ��Ƶ feels at home in our community.

I wish to thank each member of the Head of School Search Committee and RG175 for their thoughtful and diligent process. I am humbled to have been selected to lead at this moment in ��Ƶ’s storied history. I savor the opportunity to bring the ��Ƶ community together around a grand vision of modeling equity, academic excellence, common trust, respect for the individual, and love of learning. The next chapters at ��Ƶ will be co-authored by every member of our special community. I stand prepared to lead, listen, and learn beside you.

I will see you soon! Go Green!

Henry D. Fairfax

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��Ƶ Board of Trustees Appoints Henry Fairfax as ��Ƶ’s 11th Head of School, Effective July 1, 2022

Nicholas Pfosi — Wed, 27 Oct 2021 19:23:44 +0000

“It is with great joy that we welcome Henry Fairfax to be ��Ƶ’s next Head of School,” shares Board President Fay Shutzer ’65. “Henry’s personal values, professional experience, and vision for the future dovetail perfectly with ��Ƶ’s mission and community culture. He is the ideal Head of School to lead us into our next century.”

��Ƶ’s Board of Trustees unanimously approved the search committee’s recommendation to appoint Henry Fairfax as ��Ƶ’s 11th head of school, following a process that spanned a 10-month period. The co-chairs of the search committee write, “The search committee relied heavily on community input in defining the role and the characteristics ��Ƶ was seeking in its next head. The community came out to meet our candidates and shared their feedback, which was vitally important to our recommendation. We are deeply grateful to all who participated and to the search committee members, all of whom took many hours away from their families and professional commitments for this important appointment.”

Henry says he was immediately drawn to ��Ƶ, seeing in its culture and mission a reflection of his own drive for excellence and his deep commitment to building community and fostering equity in secondary school education. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to lead the school into its next century,” he says. “I savor the opportunity to bring the ��Ƶ community together around a grand vision of modeling equity, academic excellence, common trust, respect for the individual, and love of learning.” Read Henry’s letter to the community here.

Most of Henry’s leadership career has been spent in schools that are in many ways similar to ��Ƶ: He was program director, teacher, coach, and dorm parent at McDonogh School, a leading day and boarding school in suburban Maryland, and then returned to his alma mater, The Haverford School, outside of Philadelphia, where by age 30 he was named Upper School Director of Admissions. While at Haverford, he earned a master’s degree in education from the University of Pennsylvania.

More recently, Henry has followed his passion for making independent school education accessible to underserved populations, serving as Vice President of Enrollment and Institutional Advancement at Girard College, a full scholarship five-day boarding school, and then as founding Head of School at Revolution School in Philadelphia, which has taken a novel and progressive approach to independent secondary school education. Henry also gives generously of his time in the education space, both as a mentor in Penn’s school leadership program and on the boards of a number of schools and education-related organizations.

A Head of School transition team is being assembled and will work closely with Henry to ensure that he is fully prepared to step into the role on July 1, 2022.

��Ƶ’s Board of Trustees extends its gratitude to Head of School Search Committee co-chairs Jen Burleigh ’85 and John Grossman P’17 ’19 and the search committee for their comprehensive and inclusive search process and to Interim Head of School Sarah Yeh P’24 for her commitment and leadership of ��Ƶ.

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Head of School - ������Ƶ

������Ƶ Celebrates the Class of 2026 and the Value of Community with Commencement Speaker Amy Rosenfeld ’84

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“Delight in the Hard Work of Becoming”: ������Ƶ Celebrates Class of 2025 with Commencement Speaker Max Hall

2025 Joan Shaw Herman Award Honors Street Lab Creators Leslie Taylor Davol ’87 and Sam Davol ’88

2025 Hall Fellow Adam Geer ’99 Visits ������Ƶ With Focus on Justice for Communities

Family Weekend Brings ������Ƶ Community Together