What's it worth to keep your children within sight on prom night?
At Walt Whitman High School in Bethesda, the answer was $30,000, the cost of "Giddy Up 'N' Gone," a post-prom party early yesterday that outstripped the price of the prom itself.
Until 5 a.m., 475 seniors and their dates attended the free, western-theme event at the high school, where they could play poker, blackjack or roulette, tape their own music videos and pan for real gemstones in a make-believe stream. Every few minutes, a student won a prize from an array that included laptops, concert tickets and a diamond necklace.
"Isn't this amazing?" said Julie Silver, co-chairwoman of the event, marveling as partygoers poured through the door of the elaborately decorated high school. Silver and her co-chair, Hope Pampillonia, rallied 150 parents and raised the event's entire budget, plus a "legacy" surplus. "I can't think of a better way to spend your money than keeping your kids safe," Silver said.
Like many high schools in the region, Whitman has been rocked by teen driving deaths. In 1994, two girls from the school were killed in an alcohol-related crash on River Road, prompting the school administration to initiate a zero-tolerance policy toward alcohol and drugs. Parents responded with the post-prom fete.
Over the past decade, many schools have organized similar events. This year, with more than two dozen teen driving deaths in the region since the school year began, parents are staging more elaborate events to corral their children on prom night.
Senior prom "is a last chance for parents to be involved in their kids' lives," said Karen Bashir, co-president of Montgomery County Project Prom/Graduation. The Germantown group provides support and information for high schools staging events that eschew alcohol and drugs. "This is something that teens seem to accept. . . . They're getting gifts, free food and lots of fun."
The Whitman students' night out began at the Hyatt Regency Bethesda, on a crowded dance floor scented with perfume and bubble gum. A single bank of elevators disgorged girls in sherbet-colored satin and tulle, boys in black or pure white tuxedos. Once they stepped off, they couldn't leave until the end. Principal Alan Goodwin, enforcer of the zero-tolerance pledge, greeted them -- any intoxicated senior would lose the right to participate in graduation ceremonies. But he said he found none.
The prom cost $20,000, said senior class adviser Todd Michaels, and was to last until 1 a.m. But by midnight, many of the 500 attendees were bound for waiting limousines, a change into casual clothes, and the post-prom event.
Social studies teacher Bob Mathis posed a philosophical question about the party. "Do we need toys to keep kids safe, or should they be doing it for intrinsic reasons?
"But from where I'm sitting, anything that's going to keep these kids safe and get them across the stage on graduation day is okay with me."
At 2 a.m. in the Whitman gym, Danny Roberts stepped, blindfolded, into a vinyl tent where cash and prize coupons whirled through the air. For 15 seconds, he flailed around, snagging about $4 and $300 in funny money that he could spend on prizes. "All my friends were coming," said Roberts, 18, of Cabin John. "We might as well not risk an [unsupervised] party when there's all this stuff you can win."
Hope Pampillonia, whose family jewelry business donated the diamond necklace, said work on the event "started in September. By October, [we] were working 20 hours a week."
The event organizers received about $300 from the county and logistical support from Project Prom. But mostly, they appealed to Whitman's parents, who gave prizes, cash and their time.
Silver, whose daughter Nikki Belinkie, a senior, will be the last of her three children to graduate from Whitman, led by example. She underwrote the party's horse race game, and when she thought the prize list looked a little thin, she and her husband, David, filled a cart at a local Circuit City with a couple of thousand dollars' worth of iPods, electronics and DVDs.
As Nikki and her boyfriend, Jeff Luse, hunkered down at a blackjack table, Silver, a basket of gift certificates in hand, bustled from booth to booth, her walkie-talkie crackling with inquiries from parent staffers. A girl glided up to say, "This is so cool!"
Silver passed two Montgomery police officers, who had nothing to report. Then she was on to the gemstone mining station, where a parent was helping two girls pluck amethysts from wet trays of sand.
"I thought this one would be a little scientific -- you know, educational," Silver laughed. "Of course, we wanted Hope to put a real diamond in here."
