Celebración de Primavera at ELM: Supporting the Whole Child

On a dead-end street at the very top of Kerner Blvd, where the road quietly ends on the outskirts of the Canal, something magical is brewing. It’s anything but a dead end. It’s a street where golden opportunities and musical scales are being built every day.

This past Saturday, I was honored to be invited to spend the morning at Enriching Lives Through Music for their Celebración de Primavera, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.

They’ve recently moved into a new space, a building they’ve had since September, and it already feels like home. It was originally designed as a school, so many of the classrooms are already set up. There are still some renovations to be done, but the spirit is there.

Out front, a rose garden fully in bloom.
To the side, a private parking lot. Easy and accessible.
In the back, a wide lawn that rolls out toward the marsh, stretching east. Quiet and open.

Inside, the hallways are lined with large, blown-up photographs of the students in performance. On stage, instruments in hand. You can see they are mid-song and fully engaged. The kind of moments where you can almost hear the music just by looking.

That’s where I met Jane last week.

We walked the hall as Jane explained each photo, each one a portal pulling her right back to that moment. You could see it in her eyes. The pride. The memory. The connection. She wasn’t just pointing at pictures, she was remembering the song, where each student started, where they are now and just what it took to get there. And in that moment, you understood, this isn’t just a program she buil, she is deeply familiar with every one of these kids. And not just in passing… she knows their parents and their siblings, what school they go to, their food preferences, their learning styles, the kinds of books they like to read. She knows their hopes and dreams.

This is about the whole child.

I stepped back out into the day, and it was already in motion. Kids running and laughing, circling back for more candy. Coffee in hand for the adults. A little Easter activity happening in the backyard. At one point, a student won the big prize, a gift certificate, and immediately traded it in for an ELM hoodie. No hesitation. That told me everything, this place means so much to them.

Out near the lawn, I met one of ELM’s newest board members, Bob Rosenberg. He was taking it all in just like I was… you could see it on his face. That mix of excitement and admiration when you realize something really special is happening right in front of you and you are a part of it.

Upstairs, the energy shifted into something quieter. Art tables were set up with stickers, pipe cleaners, glue sticks, you name it. Kids leaned in, completely absorbed. Parents stood just behind them, leaning against the wall, watching, smiling, letting them have their moment. Cookies were passed around. A little bit of sugar and a whole lotta of joy.

Jessie Feldman, the Executive Director, was right there in the thick of it. Moving through the rooms, checking in, present in a way that felt natural. Not overseeing from a distance, but part of it.

Then it was time to move again, downstairs, into rehearsal. Strings in one room, Wind instruments in another. Reeds and brass settling into their place. In one of the rooms, I watched Juan Palacios working with the students. You could feel his experience immediately. There was focus, structure, and a real sense of respect for the music. But also patience. A willingness to meet the students where they are and bring them forward.

In another room, Michael Fecskes was working with the string players. I had seen him perform before at Osteria Divino, so seeing him here, teaching, was really cool. The same level of musicianship, now being passed on or payed forward. You could feel the focus settle in across the rooms. No one had to tell them what to do. They already knew…. this is what they come here for.

They’re playing ensemble music. Listening. Adjusting. Finding each other in the sound. Learning how to hold their part while being part of something bigger… and they stay with it.

Students start in elementary school and continue all the way through high school. Years of showing up. Building skills and confidence, it’s not just a class, it’s a real commitment, with hours of instruction each week. Time that adds up. Students are bused in from local schools in San Rafael, and later brought back home to the Canal, timed so they arrive just as their parents are getting off work. And it’s all free.

When I think back to a few days before with Jane walking those halls, telling those stories, it all tracks.

Jane Kramer, Ph.D., has built something really special here. Her background is in urban policy and working with vulnerable youth, and you can feel that in how intentionally this program is designed. Nothing feels accidental. It’s built for consistency, for access, for the long run. And somewhere in all of this, it becomes clear… ELM isn’t JUST about music.

It’s about supporting the whole child and the whole family. At its core, the program uses immersive music education as a way to help students pursue their dreams and access opportunities they might not otherwise have. Music is the entry point. But around it, everything else is built with intention. Academic support social and emotional wellbeing, family engagement. Not as extras, but as essential parts of the experience, and you can see all of it in action.

I saw it in the classrooms, in the way the kids interacted with each other, in the way families were totally immersed as part of the experience. Because families are essential to their students’ success. Music is the anchor, and then everything else builds around it and you can feel where this is all headed.

A space in the Canal where kids from many cultures come together through music. Where they’re not just learning to play, but performing, collaborating, and seeing themselves reflected in the repertoire. A place that is shaping not just musicians, but scholars and leaders.

At The Aragon Foundation, this is exactly the kind of work we are here to support.

As I said my goodbyes and made my way out to the car, I left feeling full (and it wasn’t just the candy I snuck) My heart was full.

I kept thinking about what it would have meant to have something like this growing up. A place to land after school. A place where someone noticed you, guided you, helped you grow. Being a latch key kid of the 70s/80s, I found myself wishing I’d had someone recognize my musical ability and nurture it over time. I let a little sadness creep in for what I didn’t have, and at the same time, a feeling of joy for the kids who do. Because this is what Jane and her colleagues have created, not just a program but a space where kids are seen, supported, nutured and taken seriously. When you experience a place like that, you don’t just observe it, it feels like family.

When I told Jane she had something really special going on there, she humbly replied, “I am the spark. The rest is the incredible community.”