A not-so-grand tour

Danette Goulet

In a district that spans two cities, operates 29 schools and shapes

the minds of 21,226 students, the disparity in maintenance problems is as

vast as the difference between an accident victim who needs a Band-Aid

and one who needs the Jaws of Life.

And that is the daunting reason behind a proposed $110-million school

bond to go to voters June 6. The bond, plus $53 million the district has

applied for in state matching funds, will go toward the $163 million

needed for all of the repairs.

There are a lot of them.

For starters, take a glance at one of the more obvious trauma victims

-- TeWinkle Middle School in Costa Mesa.

When the lights are off in a classroom at TeWinkle it doesn’t mean

students are watching a movie. More likely, they are trying to keep the

temperature down.

Children sit in hot dank classrooms that reek of mold.

When girls change in the locker room, they avoid standing under the

gaping hole in the ceiling where water rotted the tiles, causing some to

collapse.

A slab of particle board covers most of the hole but the visible

damage does not instill confidence in the strength of the roof above

their heads.

“To me this looks like a Third World country,” said parent Helen

Carroll, glancing around the locker room.

Upon entering the equipment room, the girls gym teacher is greeted

each day by the sight of termites pushing their way through the wall.

When the librarian plugged in a new computer program a year ago, it

overtaxed the meager electrical circuits and now there is no power on one

side of the library.

But not all schools are in need of attention as badly as TeWinkle.

Over at Davis School, which just reopened three years ago, classrooms

are also stifling and have suffered water damage over the years.

But aside from those, the major problems consist of buckled pavement,

walkways with no covering for when it rains and classrooms that have been

converted from old middle school science labs and gym lockers which now

serve as fourth-, fifth- and sixth-grade classrooms.

At Harbor View Elementary School much of the woodwork -- the eaves,

doorframes -- is infested with termites and has been eaten away. Nestled

on a hillside in Corona del Mar, the campus has some intense drainage

problems when it rains, with huge puddles forming at the level areas

where classrooms are located.

Much of the playground equipment consists of unrecognizable steel

contraptions.

It’s here at Harbor View where teachers may suffer the worst

conditions -- all 60 adults share one toilet.

But the bottom of the heap may well be Ensign Intermediate.

Here, the damp marine air has managed to make certain areas unfit for

humans to even pass through. In a closed-off stairwell next to the

library, the water has rusted and rotted the wall until it buckled

outward, spewing debris and leaving the molding innards of the wall

visible.

On the outside of the wall, which runs along the front of the school,

horizontal cracks can be seen. If a visitor leaves the main office

thirsty, there is a bank of drinking fountains straight ahead.

Unfortunately, the once-white porcelain is a fuzzy shade of gold and

brown where rust and mildew have overtaken the fountain’s basin.

Some teachers are lucky enough to have sinks in their classrooms, yet,

those sinks are rusted out and the pipes issue a high wail when turned

on. But a trickle of water does eventually emerge.

The restrooms are another story.

“I try to stay out of the bathrooms,” said Allan Muccerino, the

school’s principal.

Students at Costa Mesa High School spend the “best years of their

lives” dodging falling ceiling tiles and avoiding holes in the gym floor.

As students work in the computer lab, they keep one eye on the screen

and the other on the many loose ceiling tiles that periodically lose

their grip and clatter to the floor.

“We call them drop ceilings, because they actually drop on kids

heads,” said Sheryl Slaney, whose son attends the school.

Students have to avoid becoming too engrossed in a game of basketball

in the gym, for fear of drifting too far to the right where the floor is

caving in.

And that’s the good gym.

The old gym is a windowless cement room, cement ceiling, cement walls

and a cement floor with mats criss crossed on it so that the room can

double as a place for wrestling practice.

Officials at all 29 of the schools within the district say they have

done what they can to try to at least improve the facade of their

respective campuses.

They have painted over cracks and planted gardens to hide crumbling

stucco.

They all have their Band-Aids. And in some cases that was all they

needed.

In others, though, it just hides a gaping wound.