EIGHTH graders applying to prestigious, $30,000-a-year private boarding schools are usually very nervous this time of year, waiting to hear. But in mid-March, as Devin Desir, a 13-year-old, checked the mail for letters from a half-dozen prep school admissions offices, he seemed positively calm.
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"I know I'll get into one," he said, "I'll get into Kent School. It was like, a feeling I got when I visited. The people were so nice, they sent me a Christmas card with a special note. They're very friendly people."
Jittery? Not Austin Drakes. "They're sending out the letters tomorrow," he said, noting that South Kent was his first choice. "They really liked me a lot. I'm guaranteed to be accepted. They called me a few times. Trinity-Pawling called me a few times, too, to tell me about their programs."
Yasin Fairley, who applied to six prep schools, said he felt "some nervousness," but noted, "I'm pretty confident. There's a lot of competition for me, being I'm from the inner city."
All three eighth-grade boys attend St. Philip's Academy, a kindergarten-to-eighth-grade private school that doesn't have the locale of a country day school (it's in downtown Newark); doesn't have the traditional country day student body (virtually all 270 boys and girls are African-American); but has the rigor of a country day school and sends its graduates to top private high schools.
St. Philip's started with 10 first graders in 1988 and didn't graduate its first eighth-grade class until 1998, but these days the top boarding schools - like Phillips Academy in Andover, Phillips Exeter and Hotchkiss - all visit here on recruiting trips. "I used to spend a lot of time inviting schools to come see us," says Peter Anderson, St. Philip's placement director. "This year I made not one call and had 30 schools. They're especially looking for talented boys."
Miguel Brito, St. Philip's head of school, adds, "The hardest candidate for them to find is an African-American boy."
Mr. Anderson has been amazed as he's watched the competition for St. Philip's students heat up - even though most need $30,000 a year in financial aid to attend a prep school. "Some big schools, to compete, will call our students ahead of time to try and get them to commit and tell them how much money they'll be giving," he said. "Some ask how much more you need and add to the pot. They'll say, 'We really want this child; what would sway him?' "
St. Philip's is one of 15 urban schools in the National Association of Episcopal Schools, a network that includes St. Gregory Episcopal School in Chicago (opened over 40 years ago) and the Epiphany middle school in Boston (opened in 1998). Like their Roman Catholic counterparts, the Nativity prep schools, they take bright urban children of color and give them a high-quality education aimed at landing them at a top private high school.
At St. Philip's, applications for the 18 kindergarten spots are cut off at 100. Before being selected, 5-year-olds are observed for one or two Saturdays in simulated classroom situations. All applicants take a screening test. "There is a grand sorting so we find the children who can take advantage of the opportunity we offer," says Mr. Brito, who raises about two-thirds of his $2.9 million annual budget through gifts.
While St. Philip's "creams" by Newark standards, the families are far less wealthy than nearby suburban residents. Average St. Philip's family income is $33,000; many, like Yasin, who is being raised by his grandmother, live in homes with one adult; more than half need a scholarship to afford St. Philip's $5,000 tuition.
What they get besides a rigorous education, which includes French lessons starting in kindergarten, is the self-confidence and social polish they'll need at boarding schools that are mostly wealthy and white.
Breone Airall came to St. Philip's in fifth grade from the gifted program at Public School 129 in Manhattan and was amazed to find classes of 16, half the size of her public school classes. Now a junior at Westover in Middlebury, Conn., she says St. Philip's prepared her academically, but the social adjustment took a little longer.
"At first, African-American children cling together," she said. "Then after a while, you sit where you please in the dining hall; you don't think about it."
Ashley Martin, a St. Philip's grad who is now a junior at Miss Porter's in Farmington, Conn., says leaving an all-African-American environment was "a little weird at first."
"But now," she said, "I'm sitting at a table, I can be the only black person - I don't even notice."
That is not a small thing. "A lot of Newark children never meet a white child," said Mr. Brito. "They go off to these schools and realize white people aren't so bad."
At St. Philip's they learn that upward mobility is a mixed blessing, that extraordinary opportunity carries increased responsibility. Asked if he would be coasting now that he had been accepted to prep school, Austin said, "No, because - just in case - the school might ask for my final grades, so I'm not really sure if I can take it easy.''
Many had to look into themselves at a young age, and decide what they wanted. Nelson Jenkins came to St. Philip's in fifth grade and found the work so hard he wanted to quit. "I figured I'll be another face in the crowd and blend in," he said. "When I started trying to blend in, I got B's. My mom was mad; she said my whole life I've been capable of getting A's. She says there's nothing at that school you can't do."
She was right. On Monday, Nelson and his mom toured Episcopal High in Alexandria, Va., where Nelson will go next year.
To help get acclimated to well-to-do white people, the seventh grade took a field trip to Connecticut last year. They visited the Mystic Aquarium, went trout fishing and horseback riding, and toured campuses at Choate, Kent, South Kent, Westover and Taft. By the time Austin applied this year, he'd been to South Kent three times. He liked Connecticut. "People are nice there," he said.
At night, asleep in his bedroom at his grandmother's Newark apartment, Yasin Fairley dreams of Connecticut. "I do have dreams of going to these schools," he said. "I see myself being there and going to classes and going to dorms." In Yasin Fairley's case, it is a dream undeferred.
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