Posted on 12/13/2003, 2:44:10 PM by aculeus
The chubby boy in camouflage stood at grudging attention before the commandant, professing innocence of conduct unbecoming. But the commandant's outfit of camouflage failed to mask a glower that said the boy was guilty of horseplay in the hallway.
"It was that girl Beverly," the boy mumbled. He might as well have blamed bin Laden.
"Drop and give me 15," said the commandant, Gregory Collins, who uses the title of colonel. The student moaned in a civilian sort of way, but he finally got down on the floor of this public school in Harlem and grunted through 15 push-ups. Then he was gone, having been taught another lesson in military discipline at Intermediate School 286 — also known as the Renaissance Military and Leadership Academy.
The New York school system, which strains to serve 1.1 million children, is so vast and complex that the wondrous gets lost amid the troubling, the interesting amid the mundane. Who knew that one of this city's junior high schools had been transformed into a military academy?
Every morning at 7:30, about 300 students clad in camouflage and combat boots assemble at the school, on West 129th Street, for the Pledge of Allegiance. During the course of the day the sounds of "Ten-hut!" and "At ease!" echo down the corridors of what was once called Junior High School 43. School aides act like M.P.'s.
The coursework includes a military class taught by Colonel Collins, who is so integral to the school that when his position seemed in jeopardy, dozens of students complained by letter to the city's Department of Education. He never served in the military because, he said, he was once stabbed in the hand while "apprehending" someone. "I can't go into details," he said. But he is the founder of the Harlem Youth Marines, a group known for its precision in parade drills, and a lieutenant in the New York Guard, a volunteer organization that helps the state in emergencies.
The colonel, who says marching drills instill obedience, said his class covered military history, military customs and military courtesies. Students learn, for example, that a sergeant outranks a lance corporal.
Such information comes in handy at I.S. 286. The principal, Sandra Small, is the general. Her secretary is chief warrant officer. One school aide holds the rank of major; another, the rank of captain. Depending on their behavior and diligence, the sixth- , seventh- and eighth-grade students can eventually be promoted to staff sergeant.
The sight of 12-year-old children in camouflage, with surnames stenciled on their uniforms, can be jarring. But officials emphasize that I.S. 286 is not a boot camp but a school, one that gives structure to children from a poor neighborhood with some of the lowest academic scores in the city.
Ms. Small, a Harlem resident who has been an educator for 30 years, said that the school provided lessons in the possibilities of life, and she dismissed any suggestion that it groomed students to put their lives on the line in time of war. "There are so many things right in this community that are a form of genocide," she said.
In its previous incarnation, the school was failing so miserably that four years ago the local school board replaced it with a military model, making it the only middle school of its kind in the city. The transition was hard, officials acknowledge. Fights broke out. Students rebelled against rules that banned everything from long hair to the display of jewelry.
Colonel Collins complained that even now, students were not adhering enough to military standards. Then came the sounds of rowdiness from a nearby classroom, either to underscore his point or to remind him that some of his students are 12.
STILL, Ms. Small said, things have begun to click. Attendance has risen to 92 percent, parents have become more involved and test scores, while still low, are rising. There are also plans to award ribbons to students who win promotions. "We've had rough patches," she said. "But the idea is so darn good."
To demonstrate her point, Ms. Small arranged for a dozen eighth graders to drill in the main corridor. "Left! Left! Left!" barked a staff sergeant, a slight girl named Eleni. "A-a-a-t ease!"
"She really knows how to call cadence," Ms. Small said, as Eleni and her squad marched away, past the music room, past Colonel Collins's office, with its Marine Corps flag and "Semper Fi" posters.
As she patrolled the halls of her school, Ms. Small encountered another student in camouflage. She addressed him as Sweetie and sent him on his way.
Sweetie? "It's the mother in me," the general of I.S. 286 said.
Copyright 2003 The New York Times Company
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