PATERSON — It was 11 p.m. on a Friday in December when Nathan Thomas, one of the many music teachers laid off in the recent purge, received a text message from a student in Paterson.

"Jahid and I have been practicing since 8 p.m. in my room, and we still are as we speak," wrote Foiaz Ahmed.

Thomas knew they could have been at the movies, eyeballing girls at the mall, losing their natural mind in cyberspace video games.

Instead they were practicing classical music on their violins. On this evening it was the “Canon” by Johann Pachelbel, a work rich and serene with violins.

Thomas, still taken aback, was stunned by what the two students did next. They sent him clips of the music he taught them for their Christmas concert.

You see, Thomas, who never wanted to do anything but inspire kids to love music, was laid off at the beginning of the school year from School No. 7, but he has continued to teach a violin ensemble of 16 kids who were once his middle school students in Paterson. He drives 80 miles round trip from Franklin Township in Somerset County to Paterson each Saturday for the two-and-a-half-hour class. And he does it for no money at all.

“That’s very good to hear, wow,” Thomas texted back that night. “Have a good night. Talk to you later. Get some sleep.”

But they kept practicing until well into the morning. Their texts were just one more tribute his students have paid Thomas. They know how much he cares about them, how much he wants them to play beautiful music and how much he has sacrificed for them.

And now that they are hooked on the violin, they know he won’t let them down.

“It’s just eternal joy for me,” 14-year-old Jahid Hussain said of the violin. “It’s so pure. I’ll play this as long as I can, until I the day I die.”

The Paterson school district eliminated Thomas’ job and most of its music and arts program for the school year as a cost-saving measure. Why that would be taken away from children distresses Thomas. Classical music, he says, is “inherently beautiful,” and can take urban students through doors they never imagined.

“I am quantitative proof,” he said. “Look at the things I’ve had a chance to do.”

It took him from the streets of Baltimore, where he grew up, to the University of California, Santa Barbara, on a full scholarship. He’s played in France, Switzerland, England and Italy. He’s even made a stop at the White House.

Thomas would not let budget cuts ground the Paterson Strings, his violin unit of 40 to 50 kids, mostly boys at School No. 7. He believes music, in any form, helps young people express that which they can’t put into words.

“They are taking part in something that is rich in history and valuable on so many levels in the development of civilized adults,” Thomas said. “Part of a well-rounded education is understanding the fine arts.”

After he was laid off in September, Thomas set out on his mission. He met with the Rev. Daniel Grigassy at Saint Bonaventure, the Roman Catholic Church in Paterson where he always held his Christmas and spring concerts. Grigassy jumped at the idea of having the kids practice in the sanctuary.

When word spread about the plan, students were psyched. This e-mail from Ashraf Siddique, 14, is a glimpse of what it meant to have that distinct, robust sound in their lives again.

“Hi Mr. Thomas! I knew you (would) come up with an idea,” he said. “I need all the information so I can do my best to get everybody to come back. Don’t worry Mr. Thomas, I got your back.”

And he has their back, too.

So every Saturday since October, he gathers with 15 boys and one girl who faithfully show up at the church.

“He’s really developed them,” Grigassy said. “You can see in their faces how proud they are. There will be at least two, three or four of them who will find a profession in this, because of that man.”

There is an uplift of joy when you see them file into church on a Saturday, smiling, giving each other high-fives, getting right to work after Thomas tunes their violins.

Take Ahmed, the kid who sent the text message that he had been playing all night with Jahid Hussain. He’s in high school, has a job and is about to graduate in June. But he still comes back to learn and help Thomas instruct the younger students. Ahmed says he’s been hooked on the violin since fifth grade and he will not give it up, even if it’s only a hobby.

“It keeps me calm,” he said. “When I’m angry about something, I play the violin and it makes me feel better.”

The kids soak up their precious two-and-a-half hours of practice, taking the weekend lesson home to play some more. They don’t have to come on Saturdays. There’s no grade to earn, no carrot he can dangle in front of them. Just passion.

“That’s a powerful statement about these children,” Thomas said. “This is proof of how much these children do want to succeed.”

You can see why he couldn’t let them down after losing his gig, the only job he says he still wants. He is getting by on unemployment for now and hopes to somehow get his old job back.

He has grown close to the kids in 10 years with the district, keeping their pictures behind the bow in his violin case. The students were despondent when they thought they had lost their teacher.

Ashley Zarate, 14, was looking for him, walking past the music room, wondering why he wasn’t there that first week of school. Where was Mr. Thomas?

“I saw them putting his stuff in boxes,” Zarate said. “I was upset.”

Hussain said he almost broke down crying, realizing he might never see his mentor again.

This is the man they talk to about problems, the uncle they look to for guidance. He’s young at heart like them, his youthful face, helps, too. The students say what counts most is that Thomas cares beyond the music. It was never more evident than at the Christmas concert, when Thomas, his voice cracking, read a letter from Jesus Rolon, one of his students, to the audience at the church.

“You have taught me something I never thought I could have learned, which is the violin,” Thomas read. “You were always there to help me when people didn’t want to deal with me. I want to thank you for everything you have done and I’m glad to have met you.”

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Thomas, standing at the altar, teared up. Rolon, did too, as he sat between his fellow violinists, all of them decked out in red, gold and green bow ties and cummerbunds Thomas bought for the performance. Parents, teachers and staff from School No. 7 were there that night.

They know what Thomas does for the kids and what they mean to him. If they need violins, he buys them. The ones that are donated, he repairs with money from his unemployment check.

Ten more are waiting to be fixed right now in his office at home. The audience felt his raw emotion, giving up warm applause as Thomas explained that he’s on this planet to make his kids life better through music.

His former principal, Joann Cardillo, misses him at school. Music no longer fills the hallway, where she stood near his room at times to listen. “It’s sad,” she said. “It’s quiet now.”

The district saw the talent it cut earlier this month when the Paterson Strings showed up unannounced at a board of education meeting. They marched from the back of the auditorium at John F. Kennedy High School, walking slowly down the center aisle, playing “O Come Little Children.” When they reached the front, they stood before board members and the superintendent and received a standing ovation from the crowd.

This is a tight-knit family. They laugh at each other’s jokes, gobble up pizza and soda Thomas buys when they’re together. When it’s time to work, they perk up, keying in on Thomas’ direction and his discipline. It can be biting at times, but it’s firm, fair and done out of love.

“Your posture, it’s horrible. Stand up,” he says in one moment.

But there’s always encouragement when they play and get it right.

“Give me more, good,” he said during one of their sessions.

“Ahh, lift, lift. Nice lift,” he told Zarate, complimenting the only girl in the group on how she controlled the violin bow. “It was beautiful. She had the most beautiful and professional lift.”

Thomas challenges them every time out, demanding they play in tune. He’s patient with his instruction, yet hyper as he moves between the first and second violinists, showing them through his play, calling out notes and stopping them when necessary.

Thomas says he wants nothing less than their best and he urges them to play crisp and with feeling. Mediocrity is unacceptable and he rejects the thought that children have to play like children.

“We’ve all heard those (concerts) and been to them, where everybody is like ‘Oh God,’” he said. “I don’t allow screeching and scratching and improper tone production.”

They don’t sound like children, nor do they behave like typical kids when Thomas tells them to take a break. You’d think they’d goof off a little and talk, whip out a cell phone or something. Not this crew. They keep right on playing, tinkering with “Gavotte in D Major” until someone had Thomas get sheet music for the “Irish Washer Woman,” a fast song they devoured with enthusiasm.

Ahmed picked it up quickly. Hussain knew it too, jumping in to challenge Thomas. The impromptu race with his teacher started out slow, then picked up momentum as the others looked on. Hussain held his own, keeping pace, sliding the bow rapidly back and forth, up and down. His frame, rigid, shook as if he was nervous, but he wasn’t.

He was confident, determined not to miss a beat.

“Yes,” he said as they finished. “I finally caught up to him.”

And the young apprentice jumped up and down, punching the air with his violin bow three times as if he had just hit a game-winning shot.