At 1 a.m. one night last week, a seedy young man darted out of a subway station in downtown Brooklyn, stationed himself at the doors of a grimy brick building at No. 131 Livingston St. Soon others, some in spruce business suits, some in greasy overalls, some old, some young, lined up behind him. Through the night they waited. The line lengthened down the block, curled around its four sides. As day broke and the line sweated in the July sun, functionaries of the New York City Board of Education arrived, hurried inside the building to begin interviewing applicants for...
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