She dives right in

There are signs and then there are signs.

Toni McNeal saw a literal sign - a banner strung on a bridge in Paradise Island, the Bahamas - and instantly interpreted it as that other kind of sign.

It read, "Welcome, National Association of Black Scuba Divers," in recognition of a convention that had just left town.

"But it seemed to be a message for me," McNeal says. She'd been introduced to snorkeling by a friend, but had never experienced diving.

A dozen years later, McNeal, now 55, is the first female president of the 2,000-member National Association of Black Scuba Divers (www.nabsdivers.org). She was the association's scuba diver of the year in 2001 and was inducted into its Hall of Fame in November 2006.

So yes, she is the kind of person who pursues the subjects that intrigue her and tends to succeed at her pursuits.

You can see it in her day job (scuba is, after all, "just a hobby" that consumes every second of her after-hours time).

She worked her way up from accounting manager to comptroller to chief financial officer at KenCrest, a nonprofit that serves disabled children and adults. What was an $8 million agency when she started 23 years ago is now a $70 million program.

And the fact that she's working for a nonprofit, instead of the multinational corporation where she began her career in finance, is further evidence that this is a woman who puts a premium on helping others.

That's what she was doing on a Saturday afternoon in February - leading a free scuba-diving class at the Boys and Girls Club in Newark, Del.

She's working with her fellow members of the Atlantic Rangers Scuba Club. The Rangers are one of the many regional clubs that operate under the umbrella of the National Association of Black Scuba Divers, but the club has members of all races (www.atlanticrangers.org).

In the course of this afternoon, they'll give these students a chance to experience total submersion. And but for the absence of coral reefs and rare tropical fish, the students will begin to see how magical scuba can be.

"And, seeing me, a black woman, doing this, is good for everybody," McNeal says, "because it breaks down stereotypes."

Still, this seems a tremendous effort just to introduce kids to a sport they probably can't afford to pursue. Equipment for a single individual can cost thousands of dollars, and the waters off Newark (or Philadelphia, for that matter) are not the clearest.

Why bother?

Nothing in her childhood circle of family, home and school prepared McNeal for scuba specifically.

Born in Manhattan, McNeal became a Philadelphian at age 7. After graduating from the Philadelphia High School for Girls, she attended Case Western Reserve University in Ohio, married, raised two children, divorced and completed her education at Rutgers University.

Her mother, a private school teacher, and father, a regional sales manager for Sherwin-Williams Paint, did their best to love and encourage.

"My father definitely instilled a very strong work ethic in me and my brothers," she says. "We're all overachievers who handle a lot of different things."

One brother founded an information technology firm; the other is a physician and hospital administrator.

Her parents didn't discourage her from sports, but without their active encouragement, she put her energy instead into academics. And it was years before she realized she'd missed out on a terrific opportunity.

"I'm lucky. I had wonderful, loving parents all my life - they're still alive - and that's been a great foundation for me."

Still, "if I'd participated earlier, I think I would have been a good athlete."

And that's part of the reason she is so passionate now about exposing young people to scuba, especially children from the inner city.

What you can't imagine, you can't strive for, she says. So it's critical to introduce adolescents and teens to something such as scuba that they might never encounter in their circles of family, home and school.

"If they try it and feel good about this," she says, "they'll be more likely to take other chances on new things and feel confident about their ability to succeed."

It takes nearly an hour for the students at the Boys and Girls Club to get suited up with weight belts and buoyancy control devices (BCD jackets) to enable them to stay underwater, fins to aid movement, masks to aid vision, compasses for navigation, plus inflators, regulators, pressure gauges and aluminum tanks filled with air.

Established divers buy their equipment over time, but during classes like this one, there's no charge for the gear.

Still, before they can go under the water, these students need to know some of the sign language divers use:

A circle of the thumb and forefinger means "OK." A thumbs up from an instructor means let's get out of the water. Thumbs down: Let's go under the water.

Divers signal to one another that "something's not right" by waving a flat hand, palm down.

Finally, the students are ready to go under.

McNeal takes them down for longer and longer periods in progressively deeper water as they learn the particulars of clearing water from their masks and kicking to move through the pool.

Joseph Stancell, a 13-year-old from Newark, feels a cramp in his leg, but stays calm. He gives the appropriate hand signal to his buddy, and the nearest instructor comes to his aid. Soon, after some massage and movement, the cramp is relieved and his smile returns. Joseph can continue.

In the end, everyone's exhausted and exhilarated. Timeka Willis, Joseph's cousin, wants to do it again. Joseph's not as convinced. Either way, that's enough for one day.

These youngsters may never become professional divers, rescuers or marine biologists. That wasn't the point of this four-hour lesson.

"We want to give them the exposure and open their minds to what else they can do," McNeal says.

And if they do want to pursue scuba?

The Atlantic Rangers will support them. The club raises money to fund not only these introductory one-day lessons, but also ongoing classes that are free for young people. The club also pays for those who are interested to travel with members to some of the world's best offshore sites.

McNeal and the rest of the Rangers will return to the Boys and Girls Club of Newark. And they'll schedule introductory classes for young people in Philadelphia too, in Hunting Park and in Roxborough.

"We are looking for opportunities," McNeal says.