SCHOOL IS A LUXURY IN COLOMBIA

SAN JOSE DEL GUAVIARE, Colombia -- Demetrio Rojas wants to become a doctor.
His favorite subject at school is English, and he dreams of escaping the
violence that tears at his homeland. But the soft-spoken 16-year-old -- who
lives in an isolated Colombian state swarming with leftist rebels and
right-wing paramilitary groups -- faces almost insurmountable odds to
attain his dreams.

Educational opportunities are limited in all developing countries. But the
challenges are especially daunting in Colombia, a country plagued by a
four-decade civil war and rampant drug trafficking.

Most Colombian children make it through grade school, but dropout rates
soar afterward as they are lured into the drug trade, recruited by outlawed
armed groups or obliged to help their families make a living.

In the remote jungles of central Colombia's Guaviare state, where Demetrio
lives, only one in six teens graduates from high school. Nationwide, it's
little better -- only half of Colombians receive a high school diploma.

As the sun creeps over the trees lining the Guaviare River, a cluster of
children waits on the banks for a small boat -- a jungle-style school bus
- -- to pick them up.

Nearby, other kids throw fishing nets into the river or wash clothes in the
muddy waters, forsaking school because their work is too valuable to their
families.

Lacking the money to build, equip and staff schools in every village of
Guaviare, the government concentrates its resources in the bigger towns,
hoping children will travel to the schools. But because so many children
don't go to class, schools often are empty.

On a 10-mile stretch of road leading out of San Jose del Guaviare, the
state capital, only two of the nine schools are operating. The seven idle
buildings contain broken chairs, blank chalkboards and bashed-out windows.

"There are enough teachers, sufficient facilities," said Monsignor
Belarmino Correa, a Roman Catholic bishop who coordinates education for the
state government. "But there is a shortage of students due to the critical
situation in the region. There are empty schools everywhere."

Colombia ranks below average for Latin American countries in attendance
rates, teacher-to-student ratios and literacy, according to UNESCO. Low
graduation rates close the doors to college and professional jobs for
millions of young Colombians, stunting the nation's potential.

Demetrio attends a boarding school with his sister in San Jose del
Guaviare. He is from Cerro Azul, a village where there are few jobs, and
where rebels rule. The only cash crop is coca, the raw material for cocaine.

With little state presence or authority, people are murdered in the region
with the slightest pretext. Demetrio's father was slain two years ago, and
the family still doesn't know why.

"He was a very good person who helped everyone," Demetrio murmured. "It may
have just been for something he said."

The trauma of losing his father has affected Demetrio, who shows a
seriousness beyond his years. He is guarded, careful about what he says,
especially at school where many of his classmates take sides in the war.
After losing her husband, Demetrio's mother took over the family enterprise
of coca picking for the cocaine-processing labs. Whenever Demetrio has
vacation from school, he treks home to help with the harvest.

Once, he left school for two years to help in the fields when his family
ran out of money. He insisted on returning to school, despite being two
years behind.

Each time he visits Cerro Azul, Demetrio risks being forcibly recruited
into the ranks of the rebels or their paramilitary foes, who are battling
for control of the region's vast coca fields.

"My mother is very nervous," Demetrio said. "She wants to make sure we
don't go down the wrong road. In the street, they'd just sweep us up."

When Demetrio makes the 21/2- hour bus trip from Cerro Azul to the state
capital, he crosses a deadly line.

While Cerro Azul is controlled by the rebels, paramilitary gunmen freely
roam the streets of San Jose del Guaviare -- and Demetrio is not safe here,
either.

Some children from Cerro Azul won't come to the boarding school in the
state capital. They fear that because they're from a rebel-controlled
village, paramilitary gunmen would accuse them of being guerrillas and
execute them. It's a fate common for suspected rebel collaborators.

But Demetrio vows to continue attending school until he graduates, giving
himself a chance to realize his dreams of becoming a doctor and leaving
this violent place.

"There are things that seem impossible," he said. "But you never know if
you don't try."