How to Build a Village THE OLD PROVERB "IT TAKES A VILLAGE TO RAISE A CHILD" HAS GOTTEN MUCH play iin the past few years,especially after Hillary Rodham Clinton published a book in 1996 with that as the title and theme. It is a sentence we tend to bandy about whenever we hear of yet another child who has slipped through the cracks. We look for someone or something to blame, and then we throw up our hands and say,"It takes a village ..." But how many of us merely pay that phrase lip service,without taking it to heart and acting on it? Many can look back and remember what it was like to live in a neighborhood where everyone knew everyone else, and every adult had a role, however small, in the upbringing of all the children in the neighbor- hood. From the elderly woman across the street who kept an eye out when parents could not, to a favorite teacher who sparked a yearning for knowledge; from the minister who provided spiritual succor, to the candyshop owner who offered a place for kids to congregate after school, everyone was involved. Thinking back on my childhood, I remember the neighbors who kept me on the right path. The Hills and the Winstons were such people. They lived, like my family, on Lancelot Avenue. As kids, Wayne Winston, June Hill, and I were inseparable, and just as my family looked out for them, their families looked out for me. And don't think I wasn't afraid of getting caught by Wayne's or June 's parents, or by any adult, misbehaving. They would tell on me in a minute if they saw me doing something wrong. And it wasn't just about keeping us in line. People helped one another with the daily tasks that went along with raising kids. When my mother had no car, one family, the Holsendolphs, would pick me up on Sunday morning to make sure I made it to Sunday school. (Their son, Ernest, is now a well-respected journalist in Atlanta.) In high school, my printing teacher, Mr.Ragland, became the person probably most responsible for what I do today, outside of my mother. He encouraged me daily by providing me opportunities in the classroom. In fact, I can still hear him saying at graduation time, "Reynolds, you 'are getting ready to hit the main turf. "I must admit it took me years to figure out what he really meant. It wasn't all work, though. Mr.Ragland also introduced me to jazz music. He would always have Mr.T (the saxophonist Stanley Turrentine) playing on the eight-track tape deck in his navy blue Thunderbird. For a 16-year-old, those were great times. I 'm fortunate to have had individuals like Mr.Ragland in my life.He and others, like the Winstons, the Hills, and the Holsendolphs, might not have realized it, but they definitely made a difference. Since then, times have changed. Many of us live in urban or even suburban areas where the neighborhoods of days gone by just aren't a reality. And people don 't want to get involved with someone else's kids; they fear everything from lawsuits to physical violence. But there are ways that we can build a village for our won children by choosing the right people to play important roles in their lives; to keep them from harm when we cannot, to teach them, to encourage their sense of curiosity and wonder, to nurture them and help them grow.Yes, it really does take a village to raise a child. Maybe if we begin to truly make a commitment to this, fewer kids will slip through the cracks, and more will become productive adults. As the father of two teenage boys, I certainly hope so.     RODNEY J. REYNOLDS