…the goal was simply to have fun…
I have served on many, many committees in my 30 plus years in education, some compulsory (new teacher cohorts), some formal (task forces, department chair teams, focus groups), and some informal (collections of teachers combining to fight whatever power needed to be fought). Over all that time, one committee stands out as the longest standing, the oddest, and the most fun of any of which I was ever a part. It is a committee whose membership rotated over the almost 20 years it was extant. It is a committee that, like most on which I have served, took itself way too seriously. It is a committee that I have been trying to reform years after its dissolution.
It is called The Facultones.
I remember Mike Capone, a teacher I worked with over 30 years ago, naming this particular committee. I remember (I think!) every member who has ever served on it. I remember the joy it brought – at least it brought joy to me. I remember humble beginnings. I remember moments of big aspiration. I remember guest members. I remember it annoying the hell out of a lot of people.
I remember so very much about The Facultones.
I should. I wrote a highly fictionalized novel about it.
The Facultones was a faculty cover band started sometime in the 1990s by teachers at Regis Jesuit High School, though I think we were still calling the place “Regis” at that point. It spun out of a series of poetry slam/coffee house parties attended by faculty members and their spouses which can only survive when the participants are twentysomethings without children. We all were.
The band went through iteration after iteration as members dropped in and dropped out, returned and departed. It played parties and weddings, at churches and coffee houses and theme parks. It cut a demo tape. It spawned spin off groups, side projects and the aforementioned novel.
The Facultones is my favorite committee of all time because the goal was simply to have fun – fun making music and fun playing for others.
Being a part of it was a joy I truly miss.