Ben Graffam — A Chapter in Our Story
Ben Graffam was part of Billy Needs a Beard from the very beginning. He traces its start back to January 2002, when he was invited to meet Steve on the first Monday of the month to learn guitar. Not realizing the invite was genuine, Ben didn’t show up that first Monday—but after Steve called to check on him, he realized they were serious and attended the second Monday. That meeting became the spark that started it all.
Those Monday-night rehearsals quickly became a ritual, shaping the group’s sound and solidifying friendships. The band grew organically as Billy joined a few months later and then Jimmy in January 2003, each bringing their own musical background.
Ben described their early sound simply: “We played songs like we knew them… mostly folk songs, or songs that were more acoustic.” As the group began writing original material, he loved how their influences blended—Steve’s folk leanings, Billy’s Eagles-inspired sound, Jimmy’s blues, and Ben’s love of rock.
Some of Ben’s favorite memories weren’t the polished performances, but the perfectly imperfect ones—the moments that stuck because they were human. He recalled singing “Seven Bridges Road,” a song that begins with exposed harmonies, and nights when the harmonies didn’t land. Or the time at a Lake Wales restaurant when the band launched into a song—only to realize they weren’t all playing the same one. Steve, the “real musician,” went a different way, creating a story the band would laugh about for years.
There were unforgettable highs, too. Performing at the Polk Theatre for their second CD release was a standout. Walking onto the same stage Elvis once performed on felt meaningful—not for the size of the venue, but because friends, family, and supporters were gathered near the front, listening closely.
Eventually, Ben stepped back. After a yearlong band break, he wrote fifteen new songs, hoping the group might shift more toward original music. When the others preferred continuing their usual gigs, Ben understood. “We remain friends,” he emphasized. In that period of writing, he discovered something unexpected: “I found out I had a creative place in me that I didn’t know I had.”
Eventually, Ben stepped away. After the band took a yearlong break to slow down their schedule, Ben spent his time writing new material — fifteen songs in total — hoping the group might shift more toward original music. When the others ultimately preferred continuing the style of gigs they had been doing, Ben understood. “We remain friends,” he emphasized. And in that period of writing, he discovered something unexpected: “I found out I had a creative place in me that I didn’t know I had.”
That discovery opened the door to his next creative chapter.
That discovery opened the door to his next creative chapter. As our conversation turned to his book, Reimagining the Educated Mind, Ben explained how writing evolved from a daily discipline into a way of synthesizing decades of teaching experience. The ideas came from patterns he observed over years—students’ questions, habits that helped them grow, and the ways learners responded to practice and instruction.
He spoke about the book not as a set of abstract theories, but as an extension of the mindset he brought into the classroom. Students learn to think about what they’re doing, why they’re doing it, and how to develop their own artistic voice.
The book grew out of those ideas: helping students understand their learning process, make intentional decisions, and develop habits that support long-term growth.
In many ways, it reflects the same curiosity and reflective approach that shaped his years with the band—always asking questions, always learning, and always looking for the spark that helps someone grow.