Chemistry teacher Sam Mugavero stood in front of 20 fellow employees at Woodward Academy in various stages of physical exertion.
“Two more minutes of work. No rest. ... Stay tough,” Mugavero advised. The only other sound in the College Park gymnasium on the school’s main campus was panting breaths.
This was no mandatory remedial class for wayward instructors, as one participant joked, but a voluntary boot camp.
Launched for the 2010-11 school year, it was the brainchild of Mugavero. He anticipated an enrollment of eight, tops.
When 26 enlisted for the first six-week session, Mugavero thought he might be on to something. When enrollment grew to 60, he knew it.
He should not have been surprised. The 600-plus workers at the largest independent day school in the contiguous United States tend to be engaged, as reflected by their designation as metro Atlanta’s Top Workplace among large companies for the second consecutive year.
No camper was more deeply involved than Liliana Martinez, who works in housekeeping. She has shed 30 pounds while adding an undetermined number of acquaintances.
“It helps you throughout the day with your energy level,” she said. “And people know me better now.”
The camp is a potpourri of teachers, IT staff, maintenance crew and, most days, the man at the top of the entire organizational chart.
Mugavero was spurred to promote wellness at Woodward. He saw too many adults riding an elevator or a golf cart instead of walking, and concluded they were not practicing the healthy lifestyle that they preached to students.
His proposal to conduct the camp four days a week — two of them before school, two after — came across the desk of Woodward’s president, F. Stuart Gulley.
“Sam thought we ought to have the fittest employees of any college preparatory school,” Gulley said.
He not only signed off on it, but signed up for it despite an admitted aversion to jogging. Just as surprising to him as his own presence, huffing and puffing along with the others, was the sizable turnout.
“What this has done is bring people together,” he said. “Camaraderie is what we have developed.”
Woodward has long been considered an appealing destination for educators. Benefits, such as full premiums for health insurance paid by the institution, outstrip most private businesses. Those perks were threatened by the economic downturn that has flattened student enrollment — and, along with it, revenue — but have been maintained.
Woodward picks up the tab for most instructors’ training expenses. Teaching resources are plentiful.
One of Gulley’s operating commandments is keeping his people informed. During the fall semester, he met with all departments, offering an economic status report that leaned positive but hardly was upbeat.
Audiences were warned that the financial belt could not be notched any tighter and that layoffs loomed.
“People left those meetings feeling the weight of concern,” Gulley said, “but they expressed appreciation for us being open and transparent.”
When an unexpectedly high number of veteran faculty and staff submitted their intention to retire, enough payroll came off the books to forestall layoffs.
Gulley also stays in touch by tweeting, often several times daily. Nothing carries more weight, he contends, than employees’ satisfaction.
Appreciation for Gulley’s management style is evident in their responses in the Top Workplaces survey. As a result, he was singled out for the Leadership award in the large companies division.
Gulley hands over leadership of the boot camp to Mugavero, who also serves as the boys varsity tennis coach, as well as a personal trainer in his few spare hours.
Each day’s menu of exercises is posted in advance on Mugavero’s website, and it hangs on a projector from the gym’s ceiling during the 45-minute workout when inclement weather sends the group indoors. It is crafted to accommodate all fitness levels, partly an acknowledgment of the age range: 25 to 68.
Under the gentle prodding of Mugavero, a typical day has the campers soldiering through goblet squats, belly crawls and a series of movements called burpees. They lift and swing kettlebells, which are small, cast-iron balls attached to handles. Old-fashioned sprints and sit-ups are mixed in.
The camp has proved so popular that parents of students and even those unaffiliated with Woodward have sought entrance. (It’s a closed shop, they are told.)
For some, two mornings or two afternoons weekly is insufficient. They caucus, without Mugavero, twice more prior to the first school bell, calling themselves, of course, Boot Leggers.
“He has changed all of our lives,” said Jane Hanson — or what is left of her. The English instructor, who considers meeting others a blessing of the class, has dropped 45 pounds.
Kindergarten teacher Kathy Massengale chimed in: “This is one of the greatest things they could have done for us.”
This being a place of learning, Mugavero distributes questionnaires to attendees to gauge any benefits from boot camp.
“Energy level is up,” he has deduced. “Days missed due to illness is down.”
One of Mugavero’s students has taken notice.
Fingers crossed, Gulley anticipates a dip in health care claims from faculty and staff. A healthy workforce, he hopes, is a happier one.
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