When one high school teacher has more than 400 students - over a fourth of the student body - eager to sign up for his classes, it is only natural to wonder what the attraction is.
And when the principal, Rulon Homer of Bountiful High School, says of the teacher's students, "they are so well-behaved, I hardly know (they're) in the building," you really start to wonder.But the real puzzle comes when you find out that the classes are choir classes, where students sing Mozart and Mulholland and Sibelius with all the emotion and fervor of Placido Domingo.
The success of the Bountiful High choral department is largely due to one man, a graduate of Bountiful High, who doesn't look much older than the students he teaches. Eight years ago, when Rod Davis came to the department from the University of Utah, the combined class choirs could still fit comfortably on a normal stage. Several years and several hundred students later, a judge at a large choir competition in Los Angeles remarked as Davis walked onto the stage with his choir, "Here comes Moses and the Children of Israel."
Students themselves are mixed as to the reasons for Davis' success, but all are agreed on a signal characteristic of his teaching. Says a former student, "It's discipline. He demands a lot out of you. He wants excellence. Kids like the challenge."
"If discipline is stressed, the end product will be quality," says Davis, whose choirs prove this point by consistently receiving superior ratings in state competition.
Davis, musical director for "Annie" at Promised Valley Playhouse this month, expects punctuality, commitment and hard work from his students, and he holds himself to these same standards. He recently completed work on his master's degree at the University of Southern California. And his students have seen him racing his red sports car down the hill to the school parking lot, desperate to beat the tardy bell.
But promising discipline is hardly the easy way to attract a fourth of the student body.
Attending one of Davis' choir classes, however, makes it clear that much of the discipline comes from the students themselves.
As Davis begins the class, assuming a conductor's stance with arms raised, palms down, fingers poised, it's the students in the class, not Davis, who are doing the "Sh-h-h-hing." It's as if they know something good is about to happen. And it does. A raise of Davis' arm, and the entire class begins singing scales as if programmed to perform. Their rendition of the scales in itself would make a rousing concert number.
Davis then rehearses a spiritual that the choir will sing for an upcoming concert. "It needs more ZIP and ENERGY," he calls out over the ascending voices. "I AIN'T GONNA STUDY WAR NO MORE," the students belt out as if they were in the middle of a revival meeting.
Part of their enthusiasm they catch from Davis, and a big part of Davis' pleasure comes from watching students make progress.
"I've never seen a student who doesn't improve," says Davis with some satisfaction. "I once had a student whose entire range was three notes. By the end of the class, he was singing two octaves."
Davis gives his choir the feeling that they are doing great work and that they can do even greater, pushing them beyond what they think they can endure in an hour and a half of class.
As important as self-discipline is in his classroom, Davis knows he can't hold the attention of the students with that alone. "I like to have the students make music as soon as possible," he says. "I try to get them to do what the composer wants. Soon they become involved in an aesthetic experience. Football players, dancers, everyone enjoys it."
Knowing that "making music" doesn't come without effort and extra practices, Davis frequently holds sectionals before and after school.
At the end of a recent class he announced a sectional for Tuesday morning.
"Everyone is to be there exactly at seven," he said, slicing off each word with the exactness he expects from his students. "I want it quiet during rehearsal. I don't want to have to get (mad) tomorrow morning. That will make your day bad and it will make my day bad."
He excused the class, the girls filing out into the hall to try on satin shoes to match their choir dresses, their faces showing the frustration of too much to do and too little time.
Tuesday morning the students - 400 of them - arrived on the stage of the school auditorium at 7 o'clock. Exactly. Only three students were late. Without interruption Davis led the group through the numbers they would be singing for the concert. The voices rose harmoniously in the finale number, the whole being greater than the sum of the parts. It was a good rehearsal. The end product was quality.
For Davis and for the students it would be a good day.