Houston Readies for Students

Several new parents said they were relieved at how welcomed they felt at the school. One less stress to contend with.

"I'm very pleased," Candice Joseph said when she enrolled her 5-year-old this morning. Her fifth-grader started school last Friday. "Okley told me he made two friends. He sat down and did his homework. Boy, that felt good."

Ron Dominy, a principal accustomed to welcoming newcomers to his transient school of disadvantaged black and Latino children in southwest Houston, approached Gabrielle Sorina after shaking the hands of another tiny new student that Hurricane Katrina had displaced into his front office. "What's your name, dear?" he asked her, then called out to an aide to see which classroom she was assigned to. "Your regular teacher is out today, so today your teacher will be Mrs. Hemmis," he said kindly.

They walked down the hall to Room 9, past the familiar sights of an elementary school bursting with the energy of the school year's start: kids' drawings, maps, smiling teachers. But to Gabrielle, who was seated at an extra table next to a boy named Anthony who just relocated from Florida, it was sheer terror. "This is a new student from Louisiana," the substitute teacher told the class. "Hi Gabrielle!" the children called out. Then she continued with her lesson, as if little had changed during past few days. "Who else wants to share what they did this weekend?" she asked.

Gabrielle was sobbing now. Her father, Gary, a barber with a thriving business in New Orleans until 10 days ago, went in and spent a few minutes trying to calm her. Then Grandma brought in a Kleenex. Finally, they gave up and walked away, anxious to get to their next stop, registering Gabrielle's 4-year-old twin brothers in pre-kindergarten. "I told her I know how it feels," Brenda Sorina said. "It happens to me. You well up, and you just don't know what to do with yourself."

The Sorinas and their extended family are on their second hotel since they fled New Orleans at 5 a.m. last Sunday, driving 12 hours until they found an Embassy Suites, where they usually stay on vacation. They learned two days ago that Brenda's 81-year-old mother, who refused to leave, is safe in Baton Rouge. Gary planned to look today for an apartment to rent near Will Rogers elementary. "At least half my clients have moved to Texas," he said of his barbershop.

He has been worried about his daughter, who has been biting her nails and putting her hands in her mouth, he said. He is sure it is anxiety. The Sorinas' adjustment is complicated by divorce. Gabrielle's mother, Gary's ex-wife, is stranded in Baton Rouge. Katrina bore down on Louisiana the weekend Gary had custody of the kids. "She says she wants to come get them," he said, referring to his ex-wife. He doesn't know what is more disruptive, staying here or moving the children once more.

They were not in the car 20 minutes when Gary's cell phone rang. It was the school. Gabrielle had an awful stomachache and was in the front office crying. They turned around and headed back to Will Rogers. Gary Sorina found his daughter rubbing her stomach.

"I know you're nervous," he told her, while her grandmother ran back to her classroom to retrieve her knapsack. "Daddy's here."

They left, hoping for a better start tomorrow morning.