Fourth-grader Carlos Gallegos flung open the door of the Agua Fría Elementary School music room and dashed inside past a Beatles poster, breathless, his brown eyes twinkling and one hand gripping a guitar case. "I made it," he said, his voice bouncing off the walls.

Music teacher Mario Montoya sat in a kid-sized chair facing two other boys, slowly strumming out the three chords of "La Bamba." He waved Carlos over to an empty chair. Denise Nava, Montoya's aunt, stood nearby flitting her fingers expertly across her guitar's strings.

It's a little after 3 p.m. The rest of the school is emptying out as students head home or to sports practices.

But once a week at this time, Montoya, Nava and eight students gather to learn guitar music for an hour. It's part of the Guitars Not Guns program Montoya, Nava and other family members started a couple of years ago. It's a way of sharing their love of music with children who often are from hard-luck, tough backgrounds. And their volunteer work with the children has earned them a spot as one of this year's 10 Who Made A Difference.

Montoya started a metronome ticking a steady, slow 72 clicks per minute.

"Prepare your D chord," he said, eyeing each boy's finger positions on the guitar frets. "Four ticks for each note and eight for the last one."

"Huh?" said Carlos, struggling to press down on the strings with his fingertips.

"D," Montoya called out, and five sets of fingers strum down in unison. "One, two, three, four. G."

Again they strum and hold for four beats. "A" he called, and counted to eight.

Fourth-grader Mesael Ricardo peers at his guitar neck through his glasses, trying to change chords in time.

"When do we get to play fast?" asked Isaiah Chavez, a fifth-grader, coaxing his fingers across the strings as Montoya kept calling out chords and counts.

"If you can't play it slow, I guarantee you can't play it fast," Montoya said, a smile lighting up his face.

Montoya, 31, and Nava, 46, grew up in Santa Fe surrounded by music. Montoya took up the trumpet at an early age and played for years with the Blue Heaven Jazz Band and Mariachi Azteca. He earned a degree in contemporary music at the College of Santa Fe and is completing his alternative teaching license at Santa Fe Community College. His musical tastes tun to Wynton Marsalis, Louis Armstrong and the Beatles.

Nava's father and uncles played guitars; her aunts played mandolin. "We were surrounded by music," she said.

Nava's guitar playing was influenced by Carlos Santana, Jimi Hendrix and Heart's Nancy Wilson. She took lessons from classical guitarist Craig Dell, who has performed in Carnegie Hall. After her day job working as a domestic-violence victim's advocate for the Santa Fe District Attorney's office, Nava plays with the band The Tangents.

Music has long been a place where Montoya and Nava let out their feelings.

"Music is great therapy," Nava said. "It lets me get lost and forget everything around me."

Montoya said he can play fast, slow, loud or soft to reflect his moods. "I've always used music to say how I feel," Montoya said.

The two hope in small measures they can teach youth to release their emotions through Guitars Not Guns.

During Santa Fe Fiesta 1997, a tragedy changed their lives and in some ways planted the seed for Guitars Not Guns. Montoya was walking back to the city's Plaza from playing with the mariachis at the annual burning of Zozobra, when people stopped him and said police weren't letting anyone through. "Someone was shot and killed," he was told.

Nava had walked to the Plaza with her sisters when they saw a crowd, policemen and a cloth-covered body. One of Nava's other sisters waved her past the yellow crime-scene tape. She knew that was a bad sign. "It's Carlos," one of her sisters told her.

Carlos Romero, Nava's nephew and Montoya's cousin, had been shot and killed. "The look in my sister's eyes, I'll never forget," Nava said. "It was unbelievable. I don't think you realize how much violence there is out there until it hits you so close."

In the days and nights that followed, the family looked for ways to promote nonviolence among young people. Nava found her new calling as a victim's advocate.

Then a couple of years ago, Nava came across a Web site for the California-based Guitars Not Guns. She called the founder, retired musician and foster parent Ray Nelson, and asked to start a Carlos Romero Chapter of the group in New Mexico, the state's first.

Young people who complete the free eight-week class and pass the tests can keep the Gibson guitars, provided at a discount by the company. Nava saw the group as a way to share her love of music with youth and give them one more reason to steer clear of violence.

Montoya was already teaching music to more than 400 students at Agua Fría Elementary School and administrators offered to let them hold the Guitars Not Guns classes there.

From day one, the students are able to take home their golden-faced guitars so they can practice. They have to learn the parts of the guitar, basic chords and how to play them. For some, it is the first time they've learned an instrument.

Last spring, only two students finished the class. This year, eight have stuck it out through the first four weeks. In four more, they'll have a concert in front of their classmates.

"On stage?" Gallegos asked, his eyes wide. "Where everyone can see us?"

"Yes," Montoya replied.

We can't — we won't be ready, the boys said.

But they seemed to double their efforts in strumming the chords correctly.

Montoya said it's amazing to see the change in some of the students, a light come into their eyes when they realize they can play songs. There's more to it than the music. "A lot of these kids have absolutely nothing," he said. "In class they get attention and they know they get to keep the guitar if they finish."

Nava said a lot of people ask when the program will be available in other schools. "I would like to see chapters all over New Mexico," Nava said. "What we need is volunteers and more guitars."

As the boys shook their fingers after strumming for half an hour, Montoya said, "Do your fingers hurt?" Yes, the boys reply, rubbing their sore fingertips. "You haven't been practicing enough," he said.

They are full of excuses. He ignores them.

Isaiah, who already plays trumpet, asked Nava to play "La Bamba" the way she usually would — fast.

Nava does, the chords sliding swiftly by in the familiar dance tune.

"I want to play fast like that," he said, a slight tone of awe in his voice.

"You will," she said.