MY ALARM CLOCK rang at seven thirty， but I was up<br >and dressed at seven. It was only a fifteen-minute bus ride from<br >my apartment on 90th Street and Madison Avenue to the<br >school on 119th Street and Madison.<br > There had been an orientation session the day before. I<br >remembered the principal s words. "In times like these， this is<br >the most exciting place to be， in the midst of ferment and<br >creative activity. Never has teaching offered such opportuni-<br >ties..， we are together here in a difficult situation. They are<br >not the easiest children， yet the rewards are so great--a smile，<br >loving concern， what an inspiration， a felicitou~ eXperience."<br > I remembered mybarren classroom， no books， a battered<br >piano， broken windows and desks， falling plaster， and an<br >oppressive darkness.<br > I was handed a roll book with thirty-six names and thirty-<br >six cumulative record cards， years of judgments already passed<br >upon the children， their official personalities. I read through<br >the names， twenty ~irls and sixteen boys¡£<br ><br >