Giving Impact on the Boys

Spring at Woodberry is truly special. From the cherry blossoms framing the road to the Walker Building to the hum of bagpipes preparing for the commencement exercises, this season reminds me of our shared, deep connection—to this place, to the people, and to the enduring traditions and values that have connected and shaped generations of Tigers. During the hustle and bustle of daily life, I can’t help but smile when I see groups of boys heading straight to the Rapidan with their fly rods in tow after Saturday class, or when they are running to make study hall after squeezing in a few extra holes of golf in the evening. Some things never change.

The spring is also bittersweet. The admission team just enrolled our newest class of Tigers, and the community just said goodbye to our seniors. Alumni returned to campus for Reunion to revisit their old haunts, share stories, and reconnect with the teachers, coaches, and classmates who helped shape their time here. This is the season when past, present, and future intertwine.

In this time I find myself reflecting on my own Woodberry journey. My father, Tom Spong ’81, first introduced me to Woodberry. I vividly remember my interview with Joe Coleman ’79 in the fall of 2005. After my interview, my dad took me to lunch in town with Emmett Wright, his headmaster and advisor. If you knew Mr. Wright, you know how intimidating he could be—especially to a thirteen-year-old. About an hour into grilling me about why I wanted to attend Woodberry, he finally leaned in and said he’d be excited to see me attend. That moment stayed with me. He had a way of asking the hard, probing questions—not to discourage, but to make sure you understood what you were signing up for: the fun and the hard, the victories and the defeats, what you would gain and what you were giving up.

In many ways, that is now my job. As the director of admission and tuition assistance, I have met with thousands of boys and their families over the last eleven years. I do my best to speak plainly and honestly about what Woodberry is and what it is not. I don't oversell, but rather I invite boys to think deeply about why this might be the right place for them, and ask their families to take a leap of faith. It’s not a sales pitch—it’s an invitation to something transformative.

In my role, I’m often reminded of the sacrifices that made my journey possible, particularly those made by my mother. Letting me go to Woodberry was the greatest gift she could have given. And it wasn’t easy. Two weeks into my third-form year, I rolled my ankle playing soccer and found myself on crutches for a day. Mr. Blain, my advisor, saw me struggling in the dining hall and kindly offered to carry my tray and eat with me. Moments later, without warning—pre-cell phone era—my mom walked into the dining hall just to make sure I was okay. Mr. Blain welcomed her with warmth and wit: “Mrs. Spong, will we be seeing you every week at Woodberry?” She laughed, but I think in that moment she realized I was being well cared for. That I was growing and learning to manage life on my own. That there were strong arms around me to hold me up when I was down. That she could let go—just a bit.

That experience—of sacrifice, of trust, of transformation—is not mine alone. It belongs to generations of Woodberry boys, and it continues today with each class of new boys and their parents who love them enough to let them go.

Now, many years later, I’m raising my own family here. My wife and I have two young sons who see the Woodberry boys as 400 older brothers. My mother likes to joke that I’ve spent more time on this campus than anywhere else—and she’s right. From attending the 100th Game, to sports camp and lacrosse camp, to enrolling as a third former in the fall of 2006 and graduating in 2010, working reunions and camp during college, and eventually returning to join the admission office—Woodberry has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. And I’m grateful every day that it still is.

I am continually in awe of the giants who came before me—men like John Reimers, Paul Huber ’68, Randy Hudgins ’71, and Ted Blain—whose steady presence built the Woodberry I know and love. Their legacies, and the legacies of so many other longtime faculty members, live on not just in our memory, but in the way we live, teach, lead, and love our boys today. We all had our own John’s, Paul’s, Randy’s, and Ted’s,—they gave us their all, and we owe them everything.

The world has never needed a place like Woodberry more than it does today—a place where boys are known, challenged, and loved. A place where they are free from many of life’s distractions. A place where they can slow down and figure out who they are as a person, what they care about, and why they care about those things. A place where they can try and fail and try again. A place that will always feel like home.

Thank you for being part of this place—for believing in what it stands for, and for your continued support of the boys, faculty, and staff who call it home. Please join me in supporting the Amici Fund with a gift today.

Sincerely,

Chase Spong ’10

Director of Admission and Tuition Assistance