The events of Sept. 11 have shown that adversity has a way of producing unlikely heroes. Special education paraprofessionals Julia Martinez and Margaret Espinoza found themselves forced into that role when the twin towers of the World Trade Center, just two blocks from their school, were hit. While others at New York's High School of Leadership and Public Service were running for their lives, Martinez and Espinoza stayed with Becky and Stephanie, two wheelchair-bound 11th-graders.

The two United Federation of Teachers (UFT) members have worked with the girls for three years, so it was natural that they would stick together with the students who have come to call each of them "Mommy." When they couldn't push the wheelchairs any farther because of debris and grass, the paras--both small women--picked up the girls and carried them on their backs. They wound up trapped in a restaurant patio, bordered by a brick wall with a four-foot drop to the other side. With the help of another student and a stranger they still know only as Mark, they hoisted the two girls over the wall to safety.

"I didn't even have time to think about what to do that day," Martinez says. "I didn't even think about my family. I just did it. I had to get my Stephanie out to safety."

The girls were overwhelmed by the dedication of the two adults. "I'm just very grateful," Becky says. "Without Margaret, I would have been more scared and would have had a lot more nightmare experiences. She comforted me every second."

At press time, approximately 750 students and staff from the High School of Leadership and Public Service were still doubled up with those at another school in Manhattan. Even weeks after that horrible day, Martinez says she jumps if she hears a loud noise, such as a book dropping to the floor. Becky and Stephanie seem to be coping well, she adds, although it's not surprising that they don't like to be left in the classroom without their paras.

For many of us, there are few more unpleasant memories from school than having to memorize a weighty poem and recite it in front of the class. Perhaps the only thing worse was having to diagram it, analyze it and try to figure out what the poet was trying to say.

Billy Collins is fully aware of poetry's bad rap in schools--"poetry phobia," he calls it--but he also knows that reading and listening to poetry doesn't have to be an ordeal. In October, Collins assumed his duties as the 11th poet laureate consultant in poetry of the Library of Congress. If he has one goal for his tenure as the nation's foremost honorary poet, it's to bring poetry out of the classroom and encourage high school students to simply enjoy and appreciate a good verse.

A member of the AFT-affiliated Professional Staff Congress and distinguished professor of English at the City University of New York's Lehman College, Collins writes poetry that is accessible, concrete and funny--yet still full of substance. His are the kind of poems that make people rethink their hatred of poetry.

As Librarian of Congress James Billington said in announcing Collins' appointment: "He writes in an original way about all manner of ordinary things and situations with both humor and a surprising contemplative twist."

Collins admits that his selection was something of a "wild card choice" for a poet, as he puts it, removed "from the epicenter of the poetry world." A lifelong New Yorker and 30-year veteran faculty member at Lehman, Collins says he has never met any of the previous laureates and doesn't attend the usual conferences and workshops on the established poets' circuit.

Still, Collins' six books boast sales that place him among the top-selling--perhaps best-selling--poets in the country. His new book from publishing giant Random House, a "greatest hits" collection entitled Sailing Alone Around the Room, should solidify that standing.

Collins' main project for promoting poetry in high schools is something he calls Poetry 180, named for the typical number of days in a school year. The project calls for students to listen to a poem as part of a school's daily announcements made over the public address system. Collins is selecting 180 poems, mostly contemporary works--with some of his own slipped in, of course--that he believes high school students can understand and relate to.

The idea is "to keep it out of the classroom," he explains. "In other words, [the poem] would not be discussed or analyzed, and it wouldn't be on the mid-term. The students would just need to listen to it. It's an effort to see poetry not as something taught in English class but as a feature of daily life."

More about Collins, including many of his poems, is available online at www.bigsnap.com. For more on Poetry 180, check the Library of Congress site at www.loc.gov.