IMPORTING TROUBLED TEENAGERS BEHAVIOR CAMPS BECOME BIG BUSINESS IN REGION

A new industry is quietly thriving in the Inland Northwest.It exists only because of teenagers like the one Kristy Vallarused to be.

"If my parents wouldn't have sent me, I'd be dead or in jailright now," says the 20-year-old Vallar, who four years ago wasrunning away from her Bonners Ferry home, getting suspended,hanging out with gang-member wannabes.

Where they sent her was a wilderness camp, and then aboarding school, whose specialty is straightening out troubledteenagers.

"We have an epidemic in behavior problems in young people,"says her stepfather, Lon Woodbury.

Woodbury makes his living helping parents find the rightplace for their out-of-control kids. More and more of those are inthe region, in 15 or 20 programs strung from Spokane to TroutCreek, Mont.

Kids from all over the country are coming here to learn howto get along, how to stay off drugs, how to study, how to knowthemselves.

They're taken by the handful into the homes of mom-and-poppsychologists, or by the dozens into therapeutic boarding schools.Some attend public schools. Some stay for years. Some come for onlya few weeks for counseling sessions disguised as wilderness trips.

The programs are described in many ways, from "emotionalgrowth" and "youth at risk" to "hoods in the woods." All arecostly, ranging from $2,000 to $10,000 a month.

Woodbury tracks about 100 programs for his directory called"Places for Struggling Teens." There are many he doesn't knowabout. Utah and the Inland Northwest are the two big regions forwilderness-based offerings.

Woodbury's office is a converted house in Bonners Ferry. Thetown, whose timber economy is struggling, benefits greatly fromthe booming emotional-growth business.

CEDU Inc., runs four different programs for troubled kids inBoundary County. Including its Sandpoint office, it employs 280people in the Idaho Panhandle.

"They have a maximum need for teachers, counselors, nightwatch people, drivers, kitchen people," says Pat Stockdale of thestate job office in Bonners Ferry. "It's year-round."

CEDU was founded by Earl Wasserman, based on his belief that,in order to learn, "first you see, and then you do." He also hasschools in California.

In 1982, he bought a back-to-woods alternative school east ofBonners Ferry, named it Rocky Mountain Academy, and sent Larry andCarmen Earl to run it. They brought two other staff members andseven students.

"The kids felt like they were in Siberia," recalls CarmenEarl, now Carmen Mier y Teran of Sandpoint.

So did the staff.

"I came from inner city San Francisco," says Doug Kim-Brown,who arrived later and was eventually headmaster. "When I saw a signthat said `Grizzly Bear Alert,' my first thought was: `That's arock group. There is culture here!"'

At first, Rocky Mountain staffers were unsure if they weregoing to run a trade school or wilderness program. But visitingpsychologists and counselors were enthusiastic about sending kidsto the remote place, with its creek and woods and mountain vistas.

Rocky Mountain Academy students used to number in the dozens.Now, it's an accredited high school with the look of a sprawlinghunting lodge.

Collectively, CEDU's four Idaho programs house 300 teenagers.Offering a solution to nearly any kid's problems, the programs aremarketed with videos, elaborate booklets and an Internet home page.

Some things haven't changed.

Referrals from psychologists, school counselors andeducational consultants remain the lifeblood of the industry. Thosespecialists are courted by emotional growth schools.

One reason there are more programs is that a lot of staffers,including Woodbury, left Rocky Mountain Academy to strike out ontheir own.

Some wanted independence. Some were burned out. Some thoughtthey could provide better or less expensive therapy. Not countingfees, tuition at Rocky Mountain is $4,150 a month.

Kim-Brown runs Echo Springs, a Bonners Ferry program thathelps college-age kids who aren't emotionally ready to be on theirown.

Larry Bauer and John Baisden just launched Glacier MountainExpeditions. They take kids on six-week backpacking trips.

"It's a very open field," says Bauer, a former Rocky Mountainadmissions counselor. "There are so many troubled kids."

Dave Yeats used to teach at Rocky Mountain. He and his wife,Megan, now run Trailside School in Bonners Ferry. They take sixkids into their home.

Yeats likes the flexibility that a small program offers, butdoesn't accept the tougher kids.

A few Rocky Mountain Academy runaways have stolen cars andcommitted crimes. A 1994 suicide at the school made smallheadlines, and there's occasional publicity over some celebrity'schild attending there. But, aside from scuttlebutt about TVcomedian Roseanne being spotted in Bonners Ferry, the programsmostly enjoy a low profile.

The same is true across the state line in Montana, wheretreatment of troubled kids is also a growing industry. It startedin 1979, when Steve Cawdrey founded the Spring Creek Community.That grew to serve 60 kids before closing down five years ago.

Four schools in the Noxon/Trout Creek area are owned byformer staffers of Spring Creek, which recently reopened.

Other programs have come and gone, such as Sandpoint's EagleMountain Outpost. Carl Olding used to work there. Now he runs hisown Elk Mountain Academy for a dozen boys near Clark Fork.

"We're looking for a different kind of kid than RockyMountain - kids just starting to get in trouble," says Olding. "Ifa kid runs away, as happens about once a year, he can't come back."

Then, he'll be his parents' problem again.

That kind of family grief is the underpinning of theindustry. Jeannene Morphis of Spokane knows about that. She and herhusband, Bob, found themselves helpless to deal with Bob's daughterCaesy.

"She was slashing her wrists, burning herself, hanging outwith heroin addicts," recalls Morphis. "It didn't matter whatschool you put her in, didn't matter what friends you wouldn't lether be with."

The couple tried therapists. They tried a Christian boardingschool. Nothing helped.

Finally, the Morphises heard through the grapevine about aneducational consultant who might help them.

For the last five months, Caesy's been at Cross Creek Manor,a Utah boarding program where kids wear slippers until they can betrusted not to run.

"She didn't want to go. She cried. One time she threatened tokill herself," says Morphis.

Now, says her stepmom, Caesy is making real progress.

To pay for that help, the Morphises refinanced their home.That's common. Other families raid college funds, turn tograndparents, seek out the few scholarships that are available. Thelucky ones are wealthy or have insurance that will pay.

Sometimes parents see improvement and, watching the billspile up, pull their children out before they're ready.

"The first year, there's a lot of tearing down" of a teen'sdestructive side, said former Rocky Mountain counselor Brad Hanson."If the child leaves then it's `Whoops, we forgot to build it up."'Anna Seymour recalls being stripped of her image at Rocky Mountain,which she attended in 1987-1988.

"I was kind of a stone-rocker. And they said `You can't wearblack, you can't wear makeup.' It took me a few months to get usedto seeing myself in the mirror," Seymour says. "I hated it atfirst, then I started to like it."

Seymour left before graduating, but not because of moneyproblems. She and her sweetheart Lee Cunningham went beyond thehand-holding that was allowed. Both were sent home.

Now 24 and 25, the couple recently got engaged. Unlike mostRocky Mountain graduates, they stayed in North Idaho. Seymour ownsa Sandpoint beauty salon.

Cunningham works for an engineering firm. He wishes programslike Rocky Mountain Academy were more affordable.

"If it wasn't for that school, there's no telling where Iwould be," Cunningham says. "I learned a very good work ethic. Ilearned what true friendship is about."

There's been little research documenting the long-termresults of emotional growth schools, according to Woodbury. Butthere are many testimonials like those of his stepdaughter.

Kristy Vallar says she almost walked out of Montana's MissionMountain School when she turned 18.

"I was free to go. But something the counselor said made mefeel like somebody actually cared, there was somebody that wasgoing to help me.

"At that moment I decided, I'm going to go in my room andunpack."