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Continued from previous page
Eric Adler, WG'96
For Eric Adler, being the best teacher he could
be just wasn't enough, even with tutoring students
on the side to prepare them for the Scholastic
Aptitude Test and serving as dean of students at
a prestigious private school. Adler drove himself
hard, but he was always bothered by the feeling
that if he hadn't, maybe nobody would have
noticed.
He longed for a career with what he calls the
"perfectly delightful" symmetry of success that
reflects effort.
"There was something about teaching that just
wasn't like that," he says. "Eventually, the entrepreneurial
bug got the better of me."
He dreamed of developing residential real
estate but hadn't the faintest idea how to pursue it.
Investment management seemed a more realistic
goal, so Adler spent the summer between his first
and second years in the MBA program working
for a firm specializing in bond management for
individual investors. His work researching the
potential impact of a flat tax was interesting, but
nothing like what he saw the investment managers
doing. He came away from the experience thinking
such a career would be a nice way to earn a six-figure
salary but not enough to really engage him.
He turned instead to management consulting,
another popular choice for Wharton grads. He
lasted about a year at Dean & Co. in suburban
Washington, DC. Something was still missing.
How could he make his experience teaching
and his MBA work together?
Adler snapped his experience and his MBA
together with the idea of starting a foundation to
open inner-city schools. A mutual acquaintance
introduced him to Rajiv Vinnakota, a fellow management
consulting refugee who was tinkering
with the same idea.
The two men met for a Roy Rogers' dinner
and talked for three hours. Vinnakota had already
spent several months researching the possibilities,
so in February of 1997, he and Adler arranged
a weekend meeting with a handful of interested
parties.
On Saturday, they brainstormed ideas for a
prototype, a public boarding school in the inner
city. They imagined a place where students would
escape the streets to find safety, three square meals
a day, a warm bed, and a hot shower, all designed
to better prepare them for small classes where
teachers would offer the kind of individual attention
rarely available in America's overcrowded,
underfunded city schools.
On Sunday of that same weekend, the group
drafted a business plan. Their goal was to open a
school within 18 months.
By five p.m., Adler and Vinnakota were left
alone, staring at a white board full of ideas.
Could it be done?
Yeah, but it would take somebody full time.
Maybe two people.
They looked at one another. "You in?" one
of the men asked. "Yeah, I'm in," came the reply.
They raised $2 million in private money in a
little more than a year. They renovated a building
in less time than they were told it would take to
get a permit. They talked to absolutely anyone
in the Washington area who would listen. They
secured a public charter that entitled the school
to taxpayer funding, plus an amendment to the
charter law that would allow additional funding
for schools keeping students overnight. With extra
federal dollars for students qualified for free or
reduced-price breakfast and lunch, the school
Adler and Vinnakota were putting together had
about $23,000 a year per pupil.
They opened the doors to 40 seventh-graders
in July of 1998. A lottery determined
the lucky few.
Today, 230 students grades seven through 11 call
the SEED Public Charter School in Washington,
DC, home. About 60 faculty and staff, including
psychologists and a librarian, work with students
ten months of the year. Kids who have relatively
stable homes are allowed weekend visits with family,
while those from more troubled environments
spend those weekends with friends.
The most talented students can help tutor
their peers or take on extra assignments, while
those who are struggling may take an extra math
or English class each day. All of them face something
called the "ninth-grade gate." Nobody is
allowed into high school classes without first proving
their abilities in every skill necessary for academic
success. About half make it by the time their
age says it's time for high school.
"If you think staying back a grade is tough, try
being 22 years old and unable to read," Adler says.
"Let's get over ourselves and disappoint some kids
now, when they still have time."
The school also brings in celebrities to speak
to students. Another component program sponsors
trips to places like New York, all in the name
of broadening student experience.
"It teaches you about self discipline, how to
handle yourself when you're away from home, how
to handle yourself in different situations," says
11th-grader Thomas Anderson.
Running it all is complicated. The SEED
Foundation has raised $20 million for capital projects
like the school's soon-to-be-completed four-building,
170,000-square-foot campus. The school
itself receives and manages public funding, and
Adler and Vinnakota have also arranged more than
$14 million in tax-free bond finance through Bank
of America.
It's a job Adler says he never could have managed
without a Wharton degree.
"When I started, I didn't know the difference
between the word 'marketing' and the word 'advertising,
'" he says. "Wharton has been everything,
and you can quote me on that."
Now 38, Adler has finally found the career he
yearned for, and the recognition that goes with it.
Both Oprah Winfrey and Nightline have featured
the SEED School. Winfrey's "Angel Network"
donated $100,000 and arranged donations of new
dormitory furniture and 300 Gateway computers.
Adler hopes it's just the beginning.
"We hope that someday we will have more than
just this one school," he says. "We hope that we
will have many, many students either in this city or
in cities across the country."
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