These Students Mean Business

The aspiring entrepreneur waited anxiously in the lobby of a New York City high-rise. In just a few minutes, this cofounder of a fledgling small business would stand before the executives of a $31 billion global franchise and deliver a crucial product pitch.

Jordy Santos was reluctant to accept the lead role in his team’s presentation. Speaking to live audiences left him agitated. It was understandable: He was only 17.

His partners were teenagers too. And this was the make-or-break moment of their effort to devise, design, and develop a streetwear fashion brand from scratch. A successful pitch would win them prime placement in the official N.B.A. Store on Fifth Avenue, the world-famous shopping strip in Midtown Manhattan.

Their brand is called EVNTLLY, a catchword that reflects their upbringings. Their slogan: We all start from somewhere. Eventually, we can make it. The teens have assumed the roles of chief executive officer, lead designer, and treasurer. Jordy is the company’s vice president.

A hopeful entrepreneur anxiously waited in the lobby of a New York City high-rise. In just a few minutes, this cofounder of a new small business would stand before the executives of a $31 billion global franchise. He had to deliver a critical product pitch.

Jordy Santos was hesitant. He hadn’t wanted to accept the lead role in his team’s presentation. Speaking to live audiences made him nervous. It was understandable. Santos was only 17.

His partners were teenagers too. This was their make-or-break moment. They had worked hard to devise, design, and develop a streetwear fashion brand from scratch. If their pitch was successful, they would win prime placement in the official N.B.A. Store on Fifth Avenue, the world-famous shopping strip in Midtown Manhattan.

Their brand is called EVNTLLY. It’s a catchword that reflects their upbringings. Their slogan: We all start from somewhere. Eventually, we can make it. The teens have assumed the roles of chief executive officer, lead designer, and treasurer. Jordy is the company’s vice president.

The 11 business partners arrived at the office tower after hour-long subway rides from the Bronx, one of the city’s five boroughs, where they attend the Earl Monroe New Renaissance Basketball School. The coed, tuition-free high school launched four years ago to turn one of the most popular youth sports into an inspiration for students. Its aim isn’t to produce on-court stars. It concentrates on everything else about basketball, using elements of the game to help students with academic subjects. The curriculum is designed around sports-related career paths—from marketing and journalism to nutrition and analytics—and prepares students for internships and college.

The school became the headquarters of the teens’ business operation. Classrooms lined with posters highlighting tips on grammar and essay structure served as spaces for brainstorming social media and sales strategies. A closet in the gym served as a storeroom for inventory shipments.

Now, at the Manhattan high-rise, it was showtime. The EVNTLLY team proceeded to a 14th-floor boardroom to meet the top brass at Fanatics, the dominant force in sports merchandising.

“You ready?” one of the teens asked as they boarded an elevator.

“Absolutely,” Jordy said.

The 11 business partners arrived at the office tower after hour-long subway rides from the Bronx, one of the city’s five boroughs. They’re students at the Earl Monroe New Renaissance Basketball School. The high school is coed and tuition-free. It was started four years ago to turn one of the most popular youth sports into an inspiration for students. The goal isn’t to produce on-court stars. Instead, the school focuses on everything else about basketball. It uses elements of the game to help students with academic subjects. The curriculum is designed around sports-related career paths including everything from marketing and journalism to nutrition and analytics. Students prepare for internships and college.

The school became the headquarters of the teens’ business operation. Classrooms served as spaces for brainstorming social media and sales strategies. A closet in the gym was a storeroom for inventory shipments.

Now, at the Manhattan high-rise, it was showtime. The EVNTLLY team proceeded to a 14th-floor boardroom to meet the top brass at Fanatics, the largest force in sports merchandising.

“You ready?” one of the teens asked as they boarded an elevator.

“Absolutely,” Jordy said.

Early on, the school’s founder, filmmaker Dan Klores, conducted a survey of the 110 students in the inaugural ninth-grade class, posing a simple question: What more do I want out of school? An unexpected answer repeatedly emerged: To learn how to make money.

So Klores created an after-school program to teach exactly that, and he had a revelation.

“We should just have them start a real business,” he told a teacher.

On Wednesdays, three teachers stayed after school to explain profit and loss statements. A corporate lawyer gave a lesson on trademarking and how to form a company. The class walked to a TD Bank to open savings accounts with $25 deposits.

Khary Williams, then a reserved 14-year-old freshman, was thrilled to learn more than algebra and American history. His middle school years had been marred by pandemic-era remote learning, and academically, he felt lost and checked out. Yet when teachers asked the class for start-up ideas, Khary stayed up late studying Shark Tank reruns, inspired by entrepreneurs on the hit ABC show who, like him, were Black.

The school was founded by filmmaker Dan Klores. He conducted a survey of the 110 students in the first ninth-grade class. He asked a simple question: What more do you want out of school? A surprising answer was repeated: To learn how to make money.

Klores created an after-school program to teach students how to make money. Then he had a revelation.

“We should just have them start a real business,” he told a teacher.

On Wednesdays, three teachers stayed after school to explain profit and loss statements. A corporate lawyer gave a lesson on trademarking and how to form a company. The class walked to a TD Bank. They opened savings accounts with $25 deposits.

Khary Williams, then a quiet 14-year-old freshman, was excited to learn more than algebra and American history. His middle school years had been ruined by pandemic-era remote learning. He felt lost academically and checked out. But when teachers asked the class for start-up ideas, Khary stayed up late studying Shark Tank reruns. He was inspired by entrepreneurs on the hit ABC show who, like him, were Black.

He jotted down potential company names and drew up a streetwear line of T-shirts and hoodies with vivid designs that would appeal to young buyers. It was an instant hit with his classmates.

“I was dreaming big,” says Khary, now 17 and the team’s chief executive.

The teens perfected their logo and clothing designs on FaceTime calls, text message chains, and late-night chats on the social platform Discord. The clothes are mainly black and white with the occasional splash of orange, a symbol for gun violence awareness.

The toll of gun violence is greater in the Bronx than other places in the city and around the U.S. Keyahn Schand Jr., 18, a writer for the school newspaper and aspiring sports broadcaster, recalls the day his uncle left for the store and was fatally shot in the street. Keyahn was with him when he died. Keyahn was 3.

He describes the freedom from exposure to gun violence in his neighborhood as a privilege.

“For most of us inner-city kids, that’s not really the reality,” he says.

He jotted down potential company names. Then he drew up a streetwear line of T-shirts and hoodies with vivid designs that would appeal to young buyers. It was an instant hit with his classmates.

“I was dreaming big,” says Khary, now 17 and the team’s chief executive.

The teens perfected their logo and clothing designs on FaceTime calls, text message chains, and late-night chats on the social platform Discord. The clothes are mainly black and white. They have an occasional splash of orange, a symbol for gun violence awareness.

The toll of gun violence is greater in the Bronx than other places in the city and around the country. Keyahn Schand Jr., 18, is a writer for the school newspaper and aspiring sports broadcaster. He recalls the day his uncle left for the store and was fatally shot in the street. Keyahn was with him when he died. Keyahn was 3.

He describes the freedom from exposure to gun violence in his neighborhood as a privilege.

“For most of us inner-city kids, that’s not really the reality,” he says.

To get their product noticed, the teens needed to perfect a formal business pitch. It didn’t always go well. During a practice run, Jordy tripped over his words while sharing the brand’s slogan. Keyahn missed a cue to begin speaking. Xavier Melendez, 17, mumbled. Their classmates were candid: They’d rushed and failed to command the room.

“You have to find it within yourselves to bring out more confidence,” Khary said.

It was especially daunting for Jordy. He’d transferred to Earl Monroe in his sophomore year from another Bronx charter school. He joined the business program later, though he wasn’t passionate about entrepreneurship at the time. But he’d been raised without a father figure, so the class felt like an opportunity to learn more than corporate lingo. It could help him grow into a leader.

The one task he was keen to avoid was speechmaking. But his classmates were convinced that he could lead the team’s product pitch. He wasn’t so sure. The tense lead-up to presentations was paralyzing, and his delivery could be derailed when he misremembered a single line.

“I dread it,” Jordy told Keyahn at one point. “I do it. But I dread it.”

To get their product noticed, the teens needed to create a formal business pitch. It didn’t always go well. Jordy tripped over his words while he practiced the brand’s slogan. Keyahn missed a cue to begin speaking. Xavier Melendez, 17, mumbled. Their classmates gave them honest feedback. They had rushed the presentation and failed to command the room.

“You have to find it within yourselves to bring out more confidence,” Khary said.

It was especially overwhelming for Jordy. He’d transferred to Earl Monroe in his sophomore year from another Bronx charter school. He joined the business program later. In the beginning he wasn’t passionate about entrepreneurship. But he’d been raised without a father figure, so the class felt like an opportunity to learn more than corporate lingo. It could help him grow into a leader.

The one task he wanted to avoid was speechmaking. But his classmates were convinced that he could lead the team’s product pitch. He wasn’t so sure. The practice presentations were paralyzing. He could be derailed when he misremembered a single line.

“I dread it,” Jordy told Keyahn at one point. “I do it. But I dread it.”

It was one thing to create designs for a theoretical brand. It was another to produce and sell clothing. The students needed help.

Klores took them to visit N.B.A. commissioner Adam Silver, and they talked about branding and design concepts with the league’s creative and marketing leaders. Klores also invited Jason Rabin, the chief executive of Centric Brands, a multibillion-dollar attire manufacturer, to the class.

Rabin was so impressed with the EVNTLLY team that he invited them to his company’s offices in the Empire State Building. The group arrived in brand-new suits from Men’s Wearhouse and presented their pitch to his team. There were still rough patches. To the Centric leaders, it was evidence of real promise.

“I’ve been doing this now over 30 years,” Rabin said. “I’ve never seen something like this.”

It was one thing to create designs for a theoretical brand. It was another to make and sell clothing. The students needed help.

Klores took them to visit N.B.A. commissioner Adam Silver. They talked about branding and design concepts with the league’s creative and marketing leaders. Klores also invited Jason Rabin, the chief executive of Centric Brands, a multibillion-dollar attire manufacturer, to the class.

Rabin was so impressed with the EVNTLLY team that he invited them to his company’s offices in the Empire State Building. The group arrived in brand-new suits from Men’s Wearhouse. They presented their pitch to Rabin’s team. There were still rough patches. But to the Centric leaders, it was evidence of real promise.

“I’ve been doing this now over 30 years,” Rabin said. “I’ve never seen something like this.”

It was the first time that many of the teenagers believed in their work. Over the next year, they spoke regularly with Centric staffers who helped them produce their apparel and guided them in managing a corporate Instagram page and researching the price tags of similar brands.

Jordy sought advice from one Centric associate who encouraged him to stop relying on a memorized monologue and speak from his heart.

“Make the room yours,” she told him.

It was the first time that many of the teenagers believed in their work. Over the next year, they spoke regularly with Centric staffers. The staffers helped the students produce their clothes. They also guided the students in managing a corporate Instagram page and researching the price tags of similar brands.

Jordy sought advice from one Centric associate. She encouraged him to stop relying on a memorized monologue and speak from his heart.

“Make the room yours,” she told him.

The young entrepreneurs assumed a professional demeanor for their crucial pitch at the Fanatics office in Manhattan. Keyahn spoke first. He said launching a business broadened his horizons beyond his gun-troubled neighborhood.

“It helps us to see a future bigger than the problems we face,” he said.

“That,” Jordy added, without missing a beat, “is why this business was founded.”

Jordy performed his lines while marching around the room like it was his stage. He banged his hands on the boardroom table for emphasis as he arrived at the finale of the team’s 10-minute address.

“That was awesome,” one of the potential buyers said.

Bill Coffey, a high-level retail leader at Fanatics, offered feedback: It was great that the team could rattle off details about the cotton quality and weight of their garments. Next time, though, bring some samples for prospective retailers to feel themselves.

“We actually do have some!” Keyahn said, prompting Xavier to hand out T-shirts.

The meeting culminated in the biggest triumph of many of the teenagers’ high school careers: Their brand landed a coveted spot in a section of the N.B.A. Store for emerging designers. The students will get a cut from sales.

Before leaving the boardroom, Jordy took a moment to say his piece to the executives. He used to be uncomfortable with public speaking, he admitted, but his time in high school gave him a newfound confidence.

“You were very, very shy,” Keyahn chimed in.

“But you found your voice,” Xavier said.

“It feels different now,” Jordy added later. “I know I can do it. Like, I really learned that I have what it takes.”

The young entrepreneurs assumed a professional demeanor for their crucial pitch at the Fanatics office in Manhattan. Keyahn spoke first. He said launching a business broadened his horizons beyond his gun-troubled neighborhood.

“It helps us to see a future bigger than the problems we face,” he said.

“That,” Jordy added, without missing a beat, “is why this business was founded.”

Jordy walked around the room like it was a stage. He performed his lines, banging his hands on the boardroom table for emphasis.

“That was awesome,” one of the potential buyers said.

Bill Coffey, a high-level retail leader at Fanatics, offered feedback: It was great that the team could easily talk about the cotton quality and weight of their garments. But next time, they should bring some samples for prospective retailers to feel themselves.

“We actually do have some!” Keyahn said, prompting Xavier to hand out T-shirts.

The meeting ended in the biggest triumph of many of the teenagers’ high school careers. Their brand got a spot in the emerging designers section of the N.B.A. Store. The students will earn a portion of the sales.

Before leaving the boardroom, Jordy took a moment to say his piece to the executives. He admitted he used to be uncomfortable with public speaking. But his time in high school has given him a newfound confidence.

“You were very, very shy,” Keyahn chimed in.

“But you found your voice,” Xavier said.

“It feels different now,” Jordy added later. “I know I can do it. Like, I really learned that I have what it takes.”