(Continued from Part 1)

Auer Avenue Elementary School is one of the latter: a nearly all-black, all-poor school where 90% of students are at average or better reading levels. Principal George Kazel's formula uses experienced, generalist teachers and a schedule that allows kids to be pulled aside in smaller groups.

Many Auer teachers seem to be in the career mid-range. One such teacher, Renee Allen, kicked off an English lesson by writing a mock essay on the overhead projector, pretending not to notice it was full of mistakes. Her students were captivated, bouncing off their chairs in their eagerness to correct her.

At Malcolm X Academy, a black, mostly poor, public middle school, Principal Lonnie Anderson is at the cutting edge of the school district's new efforts to improve itself.

Malcolm X has such a troubled reputation that many families in its service area have their children bused elsewhere.

To turn Malcolm X around, Anderson was allowed to handpick his staff this year and ignore seniority rules that traditionally determine teacher assignments.

Anderson has an array of strategies for addressing the concerns that district surveys show parents have about inner-city middle schools: Malcolm X has uniforms, an emphasis on manners and a policy of keeping grade levels separate, even at lunch.

Misbehaving students are sent to a temporary homeroom, combining military-style discipline with social studies lessons about race- and youth-oriented topics. Anderson has set up a choral program and talks about starting a boarding school.

But Anderson doesn't claim that any of these ideas offer cures to the ills of urban education. What works varies by school, and by student, he said. For that reason, Anderson doesn't believe vouchers will provide a cure either.

He displays a lively competitive spirit. Poor students can achieve just like middle-class students, he said. "It just takes some different things."

Private Campuses Face New Needs

Perhaps the most dramatic changes have taken place within private schools, particularly those with large numbers of voucher students.

Some report being forced to hire more administrators, social workers and special education teachers and to raise salaries. Private school educators talk of days filled with a new array of small tasks: tracking down parents whose phones are disconnected, filling out more child abuse reports, tutoring children who are behind.

At the private, Afrocentric Blyden Delany Academy, the challenges of urban education are keenly felt.

The drab former church building with a peaked roof is more than a century old. A basement cafeteria is windowless and spare. But the walls are lined with bright posters on African history.

The students, kindergarten through eighth grade, nearly all receive vouchers. They are supposed to wear uniforms of yellow shirts, but so many have failed to do so of late that Raton, the principal, has cracked down. The result has been high rates of absenteeism as students without uniforms have stayed home, he said.

It's the sort of problem Raton didn't anticipate when he opened the school three years ago. Sitting in his office, surrounded by African masks, Raton recalled: "I had this ideal: an African American school . . . perfect nice little children happy to be in school that was all black with teachers who love them and high expectations . . . " He gave a short laugh. "Please."

The first year, there was a lot of "gangster stuff," he said. There were fights, kids who had to be restrained or who were openly defiant.

"It threw me for a loop," Raton said. He hadn't planned on using suspensions or expulsions to discipline students, but he has come to see that it's necessary. Asked if he had ever used corporal punishment, Raton answered: "Not under the letter of the law."

Today, he says, things are going much more smoothly. On a recent rainy fall day, Blyden Delany's classrooms appeared much like classes anywhere. Raton says the emphasis is on character, not academics. But here, as elsewhere, teachers stand in front of rows of students and teach grammar and multiplication.

Across town, St. Anthony's, a 130-year-old Catholic school, is adjusting to vouchers.

Enrollment here has increased to 400 students from 275 since the school began participating in the Parental Choice program. There are classes in trailers and a storage room. Most students use vouchers and are from immigrant Latino families on the city's south side. Teachers report more students who are behind, more who don't speak English well.

Principal Richard Mason has had to hire a full-time administrator and resource teachers to pull students aside in small groups to help those who are behind. A psychologist visits every two weeks.

Before vouchers, the nuns and Catholic lay workers who taught here earned up to $22,000 a year. Now, with the new money available, teachers at St. Anthony's earn up to $30,000. The raise was needed to attract teachers, Mason said. He still worries because his teachers are generally either young and inexperienced lay people or nuns and lay workers at retirement age. Seasoned mid-career professionals--the sort found at Auer--can't afford to work at St. Anthony's, Mason said.

Before vouchers, Milwaukee's Catholic schools had taken poor students on scholarship. Even so, "We really served the big middle. We had pretty high-performing kids," said Donna Schmidt, principal of Prince of Peace School, another Catholic school.

Now, "because of new dynamics in the classroom, teachers won't do this for $13,000," she added. "There is a call to ministry, but there is also a call to wellness to yourself."

At St. Rose Urban Academy, eight of 12 teachers quit after Barbara Lee's first year in charge. Even Lee thought of quitting. Now, she says, she sees it as a mission. Her colleagues in suburban private schools don't really understand what it's like, she said.

"I go to the [Catholic school] principals' meetings and I can't relate to them," she said. "They are talking about what the pastoral team is fighting over, and what technology they are getting." Worst of all is, "when they talk about their high test scores," she added. "I want to get under the table." Copyright 2000 Los Angeles Times