"At first, the kids didn't like it," Uyehara says. "They'd be introduced and it was like, 'Awwwww!' But after a while, it was just our name."

Uyehara took on the role of the group's manager. He never admitted it to the Dropouts, but he did some extraordinary wrangling to make sure their first gigs were successful.

"I set it up, but after a while, the kids started to believe it," Uyehara says. "After a while, they got good."

Thomas Tangaro was the lead dancer. He entered the alternative school as a junior after being kicked out of Castle High School.

Thomas Tangaro, left, and his former teacher Haunani Kauahi laugh over high school memories. He could barely read when he joined Kauahi's class; today he is an award-winning Foodland employee. Eugene Tanner • The Honolulu Advertiser

When he got to Uyehara and Kauahi's class, he could barely read or write.

"Before, when the teacher used to call on us to read, we would make trouble to get kicked out of class. That's the kind of common sense we had," he says.

Uyehara had to work with him one-on-one, starting with vowels and consonants.

His younger brother Bobby Tangaro became the heartthrob of the group, bringing down the house with his hula. Two other brothers were Na 'Opio Select Dropouts as well: Michael played lead guitar and was a singer. John was a solo dancer and a chanter.

They made a list of goals on the chalkboard in their classroom. "Big goals. Impossible goals," Uyehara says. They wanted to perform in Waikiki like the big acts. They wanted to make a record album.

In three years, all those goals were met.

Na 'Opio Select Dropouts performed with Genoa Keawe. They opened for Hui 'Ohana at the Po'ipu Beach Hotel on Kaua'i. They were chosen to be the finale act of the Congress of Hawaiian People benefit concert, the biggest Hawaiian show of 1973. They teamed up with kids from Ke'anae for concerts on both Maui and O'ahu. They released an album.

It never got very glamorous.

The kids raised travel money by picking limu kohu to sell at the open market.

They got to each performance in Kauahi's VW station wagon, "piled in like sardines, sitting on each other's laps, grumbling all the way going, sleeping all the way coming back," Thomas says. Sometimes, it took two trips to get everyone to the show.

The group's first costumes were made from curtains salvaged from politician Andy Anderson's office. There had been a fire in the building, and the curtains were smoke-damaged. The fabric was good enough for a set of blue and pink mu'umu'u and aloha shirts, which the students wore with pride.

And they did countless family lu'au and graduation parties, always performing for food, not money.

"Talk about discipline!" Uyehara says. "They wouldn't wear their performance shirts to school; they would carry the shirt on a hanger. Haunani would cut the boys' hair before every performance. They took it so seriously."

There were constant struggles, though. As Uyehara says, "With these students, you can't work on everything at once. You have to let some things slide while you work on the big things first."

He remembers the science unit he tried to teach. Somebody put in pakalolo seeds along with the marigolds.

Then there were the funny brownies that the students wrestled from Haunani's hand with an "Uh, don't eat that" warning.

The worst, though, was after a particularly successful performance at an elementary school, a fourth-grader went to the principal and said he wanted to grow up to be a dropout.

"The principal told us, 'Eh, don't make so good next time,' " Uyehara says.

It was a 24-hour a day job for Kauahi and Uyehara. "They needed stability. Haunani was like a mother to them. They could cry on her shoulder. Me, I was different," Uyehara says.

"Paul was stern, but good heart," Thomas remembers.

"That was the commitment we made," Uyehara says. "No way we could do it only during school hours and be successful. How many people we fit in Haunani's small little place? Sometimes it was wall to wall."

Na 'Opio Select Dropouts lasted just a few years. Funding sources for the program changed and the program took on a new direction.

The effects, though, were lasting.

Thomas Tangaro, who could barely read at 16, made a successful life for himself. He's married with children. He owns three homes. He is a department manager at Foodland La'ie, and this year, received the company's highest award for service, the Sully Award. He was also named Outstanding Community Member for his volunteer work with Kahuku Intermediate School.

Bobby Tangaro had a career with the military and is a boat captain for the state.

John is a carpenter and boat builder. Michael owns a successful trucking company.

They remember their high school days fondly, but have kept the stories to themselves.

Their wives can hardly believe the collection of old photos Kauahi has kept. "Oh, can we make copies?" they ask, big grins on their faces.

"I don't think my legs can move like that anymore," Bobby says.

Kauahi retired from teaching in 1997. Uyehara retired in 1990. But they never stopping thinking about their students.

Uyehara is hoping to gather together as many former Na 'Opio Select Dropouts as he can for a reunion. Alternative schools don't have class reunions, and this troubles him. He wants his students to have every opportunity afforded high school graduates.

And he wants to see his kids again. Even though they're all in their 40s now, he still calls them kids. "Not all the kids turned out like the Tangaros. There are other ones who are still struggling."

"At the reunion, just make sure everybody has name tags," Kauahi says.

"Yeah," says Thomas. "Big name tags."