Call them school angels — people who give their time and energy to make Hawai'i's public schools better.

The three people profiled here contribute to education in Hawai'i on a daily basis. A principal leads her school in superb academic accomplishment, despite its location in one of the state's most impoverished areas; a student is a voice for the concerns of his peers on the statewide Board of Education; a parent volunteers to help in any way that she and her family can.

RUTH SILBERSTEIN | PRINCIPAL

READY FOR ANYTHING AT PALOLO

The anonymous voice on the other end of the line was the tip-off: "There are two students climbing a coconut tree by the river ... and they have backpacks on."

That's all it took for Palolo Elementary School Principal Ruth Silberstein to spring into action.

With custodians providing backup, Silberstein loped across her campus in one of Honolulu's poorest immigrant neighborhoods, walkie-talkie in hand.

It crackled to life: "I found the two boys," said custodian Paul Momoki on the other end.

Moving fast, Silberstein caught a glimpse of the youngsters down in a ravine by a drainage canal on school property.

"Boys," she called, rounding the end of the fence, "you come up here."

Sheepishly, the two brothers — a second-grader and fourth-grader — emerged to find a stern gaze from their principal waiting.

After a visit to the parents, Silberstein put the incident to rest. But she now has a watchful eye on the two young men.

As principal at Palolo, Silberstein is ready for anything. It's that kind of dogged determination — and never being afraid to hike the campus, or jump in her car to visit a family, or walk the neighborhood — that marks her successful tenure at Palolo and its status as a turn-around success story under the No Child Left Behind law.

But she won't take all the credit. The way Silberstein looks at it, the school's success has come from a broad communitywide effort that includes her staff and teachers, students from nearby colleges who help out as tutors, real-estate people and Rotarians who volunteer their time and their money, and endless numbers of people from the larger community who send money, buy school supplies, or simply give of their time.

"We were two years in restructuring and one year in corrective action, and that's what really lifted us up," she says. "Now we're on the path of constant change."

As much as educating children, Silberstein sees her job as educating parents, many of them immigrants from Pacific islands who may come from a culture that views education differently than the Western culture they've joined. "One thing is making sure the kids are in school and letting them know school is mandatory. A lot thought they had a choice," she says.

Rapping on doors to talk to parents, arriving at a home to pick up a child and drive him to school, making a home visit to complete a child's Individual Education Plan for special-ed classes — Silberstein has done it all.

"Where they come from, if the parents have to work, they can just leave the kids and the whole community takes care of their children," she says. "In America, I told them, you cannot live like that. In America, if you don't know where your children are, it's very dangerous."

But she also walks a careful line to help families but not take over their responsibilities. "When they tell me I owe them the American Dream, I say 'No, we are all working for the American Dream.' I tell them, 'I'm working for it myself, just like you.' "

For Palolo Elementary, Silberstein has already achieved it, by leaving restructuring behind and once again being in charge of the school's future.

"The greatest element of change were my teachers," she says admiringly. "In the beginning they bucked. Now they're aboard."

LYNN MURAKAMI-AKATSUKA | PARENT/VOLUNTEER

REPAYING KINDNESS THAT PAUOA SHOWED HER FAMILY

Lynn Murakami-Akatsuka's commitment to little Pauoa Elementary School began a generation ago, back in the 1970s, when her sister was growing up with a learning disability. The girl was turned away by two public schools, who said they couldn't accept her because they couldn't help her.

The response by Pauoa's principal was just the opposite, remembers Murakami-Akatsuka.

"He told my mom, 'Don't worry.' They would take June."

Her sister's education was wonderful, she says, full of love and care and teachers who made a difference in the girl's ability to learn and function successfully in the world.

So touched was the family by June's experience at Pauoa, that Lynn made a personal commitment. Her own children would go there, though she lived outside the district, and she would be a totally involved parent.

Today, a generation later, the Akatsuka family has been a godsend to the school.

Murakami-Akatsuka has spent 14 years on the PTA as well as the school community council, has written several grants that have netted the school more than $50,000, and has even contributed from her personal resources. And both of her sons have long since left the school.

Her eldest son, Neal, now a 20-year-old college student, organized the building and installation of 25 concrete benches for the school as a 16-year-old Boy Scout working on his Eagle Scout badge, and her husband, Windward Community College math professor Clayton Akatsuka, spent a year tutoring sixth-graders in math and helping them prepare projects to enter the science fair for the first time.

"I got even more involved because of Gregg Lee," former principal of Pauoa, says Murakami-Akatsuka. "He really welcomed and honored parent and community input. He truly respected whatever we said and would take into account our input on decisions."

The family was so committed it formed its own hui through the early years of Murakami-Akatsuka's children's education, with Grandma, an auntie and two more sisters pooling funds and donating anywhere from $7,000 to $15,000 each year to help buy new textbooks.

The Murakami-Akatsukas believe parent involvement can move every school forward and build a warm and loving community around all the students.

"Because our population is so poor, they can't afford to give hardly anything," she says. "But even if it's just to volunteer to read to a class, it's important. One hour to read to a class or serving on the school community council or the PTA, that's valuable. When people think they have to give money, it's not true. It can be time. Just ask 'What can I do?' It could be just simple things like mowing the lawn."

Murakami-Akatsuka lives the same kind of commitment in her job as a planner at the Department of Health, where she's part of the case management and information services branch under the developmental disabilities division.

Simplified, it means her job is helping prepare disabled adults, often with mental retardation, to cope with a disaster. It means hooking them up with a "buddy" such as a helpful neighbor, or other support person in the family, so they can be safely evacuated in the case of a disaster.

"We target the people living alone," she says. This includes about 160 vulnerable individuals throughout the state.

Currently she's on medical leave after a fall at work, even though she was helping by phone with disaster preparedness planning during the recent hurricane scare. She broke her right elbow and wrist, but even with a sling holding them in place, has used her time at home to look for new grants that could be available for the school.

"We just submitted another one to OHA for about $80,000," she says. "This one is for science and math, and if we get the money, we can start in January."

JONATHAN ALLEN | STUDENT MEMBER, STATE BOARD OF EDUCATION

KAPOLEI JUNIOR COMMITTED, ALL BUSINESS

His friends at Kapolei High School aren't surprised Jonathan Allen has become the new student member of the state Board of Education, the entity responsible for charting the course of public education in Hawai'i and monitoring a $2.2 billion budget.

"They kind of expected me to take a position like this," says the 16-year-old junior, who has been active in high school politics since his freshman year when he was class president, and sophomore year when he ran for student body vice president.

But they are impressed by his business cards. And his secretary. Even though the secretary assists all 14 members of the board.

"They think it's pretty interesting I get my own business cards," says Allen. "And I told them I have a secretary that works in the office and they get all interested."

When Allen told his parents he was interested in being nominated for the student position on the board, they worried.

"They thought this is a big responsibility and asked, 'Do you really want to pursue this?' I said 'Yeah,' and they're behind me 100 percent."

His older brother, Joseph, 17, is more interested in sports than what kid brother is doing. And 15-year-old sister Corinne? Well, says Allen, "my sister could care less."

All of which keeps Allen well-grounded, despite rubbing shoulders with the adults elected to the board, the retinue of administrators who run the Department of Education on a day-to-day basis, and being allowed to leave school early some days to attend meetings.

Allen stepped into the shoes of Darren Ibara, who had been student BOE representative during his junior and senior years, and has gone off to college at the University of Hawai'i. Allen brings the same commitment to be a voice for students — and has found himself involved in debating hot-button issues alongside other members of the board.

The current high-interest topic is how the board intends to revamp its Chapter 19 — administrative rules covering student discipline and misconduct. Board members are concerned about matters such as bullying at the public schools, and whether or not to bring drug-sniffing dogs on public school campuses.

"Are our rights being protected under Chapter 19?" wonders Allen. "There are mixed feelings. From what I hear (from students) the DOE needs to crack down on students that don't follow the rules. That actually surprised me when I heard that response."

Allen looks to the Hawai'i State Student Council for guidance on issues, as well as making sure he keeps lines of communication open with all students he meets.

"One thing that the council really wants to work on is communication. Getting the word out there and really informing students is key. We're working on sending out newsletters to schools and getting out on public television like 'Olelo."

But Allen also hopes the money he earns from serving, at the rate of $100 for every meeting, including committee meetings, plus a $90 per diem when the board travels interisland, will also become a nest egg for his college education.

"I do that to ease the pain off my parents," he says.

Reach Beverly Creamer at bcreamer@honoluluadvertiser.com.