Seven years ago, when Kevin Westall arrived at Jonesboro Grade School as superintendent, something important wasn't there.

No art program. No music program. No choir, no band, no space where students could discover something about themselves that doesn't show up on a test.

He knew the gap firsthand. Growing up, his anchor was basketball — the thing that made school worth showing up for. "My drive was to play college basketball," he says. "If I didn't have basketball in school, I probably wouldn't have gone to college. And if I didn't do that, I probably wouldn't be sitting here right now."

He includes himself in a longer list: ag, FFA, industrial arts, music, art, athletics. The things that keep kids tethered. "If it wasn't for those core six or seven things, I would have really struggled in school."

That understanding is why building a fine arts program at Jonesboro wasn't just an item on an administrative checklist. It was personal.

The path to get there wasn't clean. When Westall first posted both art and music positions, the district hired a music teacher — a meaningful start. Then she moved on. When the position reopened, no viable candidates applied. The board had heard the community's questions about what happened to music, and Westall had a simple answer: "We didn't have anybody we felt was qualified to apply."

So they posted again. This time, they got art.

Cody Carver already had history here — roughly fifteen years of it. She'd left Jonesboro to work at Shawnee Community College, and when the position opened, she came back, asked if she could apply, and was hired. She didn't yet have the full credentials, but she was working toward them. She was ready to begin.

Almost immediately, the building changed. Student work filled the walls. Hallways took on color. Kids who hadn't found their place in athletics or clubs found something quieter — a space to make things, experiment, and express.

But music was still missing.

Until Chloe Wilkinson raised her hand.

Wilkinson teaches third grade at Jonesboro. She also performs in musical productions in Carbondale. When the music position went unfilled, she asked Westall a simple question: "Is there any way I could step into maybe doing something choral-wise?"

The board said yes — on one condition. As long as there's a Christmas concert. As long as there's a spring program.

Westall told Wilkinson exactly what he was looking for: "I'm not expecting the Boston Symphony. I'm looking at parents getting to see their kids dressed up, and here's our Christmas concert."

She started in late September and went straight to work.

By December, there was a concert. Forty minutes. Not elaborate. Not perfect. Entirely real.

"It was all positive feedback," Westall says.

The spring concert was on April 28th. And this time, the hallways alongside the auditorium will be lined with artwork — the whole school expressing itself at once. Westall is looking forward to that in particular.

"Parents may see their kids' work and be like, I had no idea," he says. "They're gonna see something they've never seen in their kid before, because they don't draw when they're home."

Next year, Wilkinson steps into the role as full-time music teacher. One more class to complete, and she's certified. What began as a hand raised in a hallway has become a position.

A school that once had neither art nor music now has both.

Westall doesn't talk about this as an achievement. "I feel like you're supposed to do what you're supposed to do and move on," he says. He's more comfortable spreading the credit — to Cody Carver for coming back, to Chloe Wilkinson for stepping up, to a board that kept the door open.

But the shape of what he's built is clear. A superintendent who knows what kept him in school uses that knowledge to make sure his students have the same chances. A teacher who performs on weekends brings that life into a school that needed it. A familiar face returns to build something that wasn't there before.

The schedule is still evolving. Not every student has art or music every day yet. There's work ahead.

But on the night of that first Christmas concert — forty minutes, dressed-up kids, every seat filled with people who came because their children were singing — Jonesboro had something to gather around.

That's where it begins.