But these days, Collins has the feeling he and his staff are holding their school together with string and baling wire. When the district reduced the amount schools could spend on classroom equipment this year, Grant had to trim its supply budget by $25,000--cutting one-quarter of the $100,000 it had earmarked for basics, such as paper and books. The school's $31,000 lottery allotment and the $10,000 in state integration funds that helped pay for a counselor for bused-in students also have been diverted to the district's general fund. "At times, it's overwhelming," Collins admits, allowing his guard to drop momentarily. "I'm afraid we've lost the ability to make a difference for those students who need help the most. I don't know when I've seen us sink so low."

The losses have forced science teachers to cancel experiments because they can no longer afford chemicals. The chorus teacher must rely on rummage sales to buy sheet music. And the sewing teacher has been reduced to begging for donated fabric. Across the board, the cuts have forced Grant's teachers to make choices about what their students will do without--reducing educational decisions to questions of dollars and cents.

"There was a time I could select the novels my class would read, based on their interests and what they needed to learn," says English teacher Sandra Okura. "Now I have to take whatever book I can get enough copies of."

She was lucky this semester. She found enough copies of "The Scarlet Letter" for all her American literature students. But a few weeks into the term, the paperback books began falling apart. As pages fell out, students were forced to share their books or patch them together with paper clips and masking tape. "It's difficult enough for some of them to get through (a book) when it's all there," Okura says. "Sometimes it's the small things like this that make all the difference to a student."

And to the teachers. Two years ago, each science teacher got $100 to replenish supplies over the course of the school year--test tubes that were broken, chemicals that spilled. Now they each get only $40--barely enough to buy one box of beakers. So, many teachers no longer let their students take books home. Instead, homework is done during class or sent home on Xeroxed sheets--if the teacher had the foresight to stash copy paper before the meager supply ran out.