Wallingford, Connecticut Calypso Rocks A New England Village

By DANIEL S. LEVY

Lizbeth Andujar traces a line of sheet music with a finger as her other hand lightly taps against the side of a set of white steel drums. "Try one line until you get it and then increase the speed," the diminutive eighth-grader advises Aki Shimizuishi. "Take your time, get the notes, know where they are, and then get the beat." Aki, 17, looks down at the short alto drums, which are cut from large oil containers. He strikes a few of the notes with thin, rubber-tipped metal mallets and winces when the tone doesn't sound quite right. "It is tough just getting the letters straight," he says as he tries to play the first bar of When the Saints Go Marchin' In. A number of his classmates and a few of his teachers at the Choate Rosemary Hall school are also struggling, hoping to make some sense of the industrial-looking instruments, which were brought to Connecticut from the South Bronx by members of the Alexander Burger Intermediate School 139 senior steel band.

Calypso-flavored steel drumming is not the average class offering at Choate, where students dress like L.L. Bean models and carry lacrosse sticks across carefully manicured lawns. Located in Wallingford, Conn., 12 miles north of New Haven, it is the button-down boarding school boasting such notable alumni as John F. Kennedy and Glenn Close -- a place of birch and magnolia trees and Colonial Revival brick buildings with white trim, intimate dormers and gilded towers.

Choate is 80 miles northeast and a world away from the Burger school, an oasis of learning located in a neighborhood of burned-out buildings, where sporadic gunfire is a regular event. "We have people in Mercedes and Jaguars from Connecticut and New Jersey out in front of the school buying drugs," says Tom Minicucci, the director of the senior steel band. "It is like the bazaars at Marrakesh."

Burger, one of New York City's magnet schools for the performing and creative arts, attracts talented students from outside the boundaries of the impoverished school district. The school offers classes in drama, choral music, orchestra, dance and, of course, the steel drum.

Lizbeth and her 21 classmates from the steel band -- the city's only such school-based musical ensemble -- are in Wallingford to give a concert during Choate's Multicultural Day. Choate first became interested in the group last year when admissions director Andrew Wooden, 36, was visiting Burger to interview three potential students. "As I was walking through the hall, I heard the steel drum and was mesmerized by it," Wooden recalls. "When I got back to Choate we arranged for them to come here. This is a pretty sedate group, and the Burger kids had the place rocking."

This year's Multicultural Day was the agreed-upon time for an encore concert. Steel drumming, which originated in Trinidad in the 1940s, made a perfect offering for a day intended to expose students to other cultures. Like so many schools, Choate is actively seeking to diversify its student body, a policy that meshes well with the dreams of many minority parents who want to get their children away from the pressures of the inner city. "Thirteen years ago, it was hard to talk a kid from the Bronx into coming here," says Wooden. "Now it is easier. The areas have gotten so bad that the parents want to get their kids out of the neighborhood." Choate admitted all three Burger interviewees -- two on full scholarships -- and is taking one more student this coming fall. Wooden wishes his school had the financial-funds to admit more. But at $15,900 a year, an education at Choate doesn't come cheap.

The teachers at Burger welcome admissions directors like Wooden as they actively search for good public and private high schools for their graduating students. Newly imposed budget cuts have crippled many city schools, and are especially devastating in the South Bronx, where schools are oftentimes one of the few stable parts of a child's life. "Burger is a safe haven for them," says Minicucci. "It is calm, and we offer them wonderful opportunities with the arts and music."

Burger is fortunately blessed with a dedicated staff, people like Minicucci and Terry Hofler, the drama teacher who also accompanied the class to Choate. Both have worked at Burger since 1967, and do what all good teachers do: devote themselves to their students. On the trip to Choate, Hofler and Minicucci act as chaperones, guides and cheerleaders, preparing the students for the concert as they ease their fears. "Our kids don't realize how good they are," Hofler admits, sounding like a proud parent. Many of the students were worried about the trip and concerned about how they might fit in. "I couldn't sleep the night before," says Julio Dominguez, 15. "I dreamed the bus left without me." All that quickly changed when they arrived in Wallingford. "Five minutes after they met their hosts they were gone and they didn't know us," jokes Hofler.

Each Burger student spent the two days with a corresponding Choate host. Jesus Nieves, 14, bunked in freshman Ed Dale's room. They attended classes, shot hoops, watched TV and listened to music. "People say they are from the Bronx, stay away, they are dangerous," says Natalia Roquette, 14, another of the Choate hosts. "Well, they are not. They are really nice."

During Multicultural Day, students ate yams, sticky rice and potato latkes, and attended classes in Ceylonese dancing, New England cemetery markings and Cambodia's history and people. Minicucci provided the musical diversity by offering the Choate kids lessons in steel drumming. The success of last year's concert made Minicucci's class the most sought after: 450 people signed up for the 18 slots.

Aki Shimizuishi wasn't registered for the class. He had helped set up the stage in the gymnasium the night before, stopped by in the morning to observe the course and happily filled in when a set of drums became free. Minicucci stands up front and briefly describes the history of the drums, then demonstrates how to use the mallets. He breaks down the playing into melody, harmony and beat, and tells each player what to do. They give it a try. Slowly a tune emerges from the jumbled, tinny cacophony that reverberates throughout the gymnasium. He takes the players through their lines until they have the song down pat. They are shocked when he informs them that they will be the surprise performers during the concert later in the afternoon.

The concert is the main event of the day. Twelve hundred students, faculty members and friends fill the gym and squat on the floor as the Burger band members take the stage. "I won't know if you like it unless you make some noise," Minicucci announces as he tells the audience to move closer. The band starts with Love Is in the Air and Minicucci quickly works up a sweat as he bounces, points, claps and raises his hands to the beat of the music. The players wield their mallets in unison, pounding out a strident, pulsing beat. A number of the Choate students stand up and clap. Others follow, and some dance around as the sounds of well-known tunes like Downtown rebound off the gym walls.

During The Tide Is High, a long line of students snakes around the gym. They then high-kick through New York, New York. When Minicucci calls for the 1991 Choate Rosemary Hall steel band, the audience yells and chants the names of various performers as they make their way to the stage for a fast-paced and well-performed rendition of When the Saints Go Marchin' In. "There was pressure," Shimizuishi admits as he leaves the stage to the cheers of his classmates. "I was afraid I would mess up, but it was fun. It went well."

The band concludes with a rousing rendition of the Choate school song. The exhausted Burger students quickly rejoin their new friends. Some make plans for future visits. Others go off for a game of basketball, a meal in the dining hall or a final look at the campus. Minicucci and Hofler try to relax and prepare for the drive back to the Bronx. They are already talking about next year's concerts and, as always, their hopes for the future of their students.