Texas opens schoolroom doors wide

No cheerleading squad. No letter jacket. No homecoming court. That's the devastation hurricane Katrina wrought on Louisiana high school sophomore Andria Smith when she found out her school, which is nestled at the tip of the Louisiana boot near the mouth of the Mississippi, was swamped in 17-foot floodwaters.

"I thought I'd never go to school again," she says. Her adoptive parents thought otherwise. As soon as Leon Houston and his wife realized that his family would not be returning to Louisiana in the near future, he enrolled Andria and her sister Adrienne in Alvin High School, which is located just outside Houston.

"I didn't want the girls wasting time, watching TV all day," says Mr. Houston, who along with an estimated 250,000 other people, sought refuge from the storm in the Houston area. "I want them to move on, make friends, and finish their educations."

Although Katrina has brought hardship to Houston's family, he credits Texas - a state whose good-neighbor status has recently skyrocketed - with easing his mind a little, at least about "his girls' educations."

The Houston family is not alone. In the wake of Katrina, thousands of school-age evacuees have enrolled in Texas schools. Although no hard numbers are in, the Houston area alone could stand to gain 40,000 students. So far, schools have been happy to oblige, welcoming evacuee students with school supplies, backpacks, clothing, toiletries, and even gift cards to local stores.

"I want stranded families to know the doors of Texas's public schools are immediately open to your children," Texas Gov. Rick Perry (R) said. Although Texas will bear some of the financial burden of schooling evacuees, the per-pupil federal dollars that would have gone to Louisiana schools will likely be diverted to Texas. Since this is so unprecedented, Texas will work out the details later.

Texas officials are waiving typical enrollment procedures that require official transcripts, medical records, and proof of residency by categorizing these "new" students as "homeless." Under the No Child Left Behind legislation, homeless students can enroll in a public school as long as they are residing in that school's district, whether that finds them in hotels, shelters, or even the Astrodome.

"My three boys are commuting to school from our hotel," says Colleen Moore, whose New Orleans home was flooded by Katrina. "Although my son Michael thought it was strange to start first grade twice, I think it's great my [boys] are in school." In fact, Mrs. Moore says that the Beaumont, Texas, school system has been so accommodating that two of her sons were given musical instruments so that they could continue the lessons they had been receiving in New Orleans.

Even though displaced students will likely make Texas classrooms more cramped, Texas students seem not to mind. "It's just the right thing to do," says Pierce McGrath, a junior at Kingwood High School, north of Houston. "I know our football team is excited because there was a big guy from Louisiana that enrolled."

Pierce's hospitable attitude is echoed by school officials and administrators, who are rallying their faculties to be courteous and welcoming to all hurricane evacuees. "The process is going well," says Byron Foster, who serves as an assistant principal at Alcott Elementary School in Houston. "Texas will answer this call."

Although Mr. Foster is set to welcome up to 200 new students into his school this week, he does admit that he and other school administrators worry about how this influx of evacuee students will impact Texas's high-stakes emphasis on accountability. "School accountability is always a concern," Foster says, "But we can't worry about that now. My school's scores may go up or down, but I have to do what's right for these children."

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