By Eric Hoover and Robin Wilson

Baltimore County, Md.

For a long time, nobody knew where the water in the library’s basement was coming from, but it was not a pressing concern. After all, most people on the Essex campus of the Community College of Baltimore County had no reason to venture into the building’s windowless depths.

That will soon change, however. Administrators expect enrollment in for-credit courses to surge by as much as 20 percent over last fall, and so they have decided that the big, empty space could help ease a serious problem: The college has run out of classrooms.

This summer, workers located the source of the water (a leaking valve). Soon they will build walls, rework the ducts, and convert part of the basement into two classrooms, each with about 24 computers.

"When need dictates, you get creative," says Sandra L. Kurtinitis, the college's president.

In Baltimore, as in many places throughout the nation, demand is growing faster than two-year institutions could ever hope—or afford—to build. This fall's projected enrollment growth in the college's for-credit programs follows a 10-percent increase it saw during the last academic year. In total, the college plans to enroll nearly 24,000 students in those programs this fall. An additional 37,000 are expected in its continuing-education courses over the coming academic year, a 9-percent increase over last year.

Although the college has not experienced the kind of state cuts that have forced campuses in California and Florida to turn students away, Maryland has trimmed $1.1-million from the college's already tight $178-million budget. Amid a hiring slowdown, administrators have scrambled to cut costs even as they prepare to add about 190 course sections this fall. "It's a balancing act that keeps you awake at night," Ms. Kurtinitis says.

As big as the college's enrollment increases are, the numbers only begin to reveal the experiences of the people who work and study at the college's three campuses—in Catonsville, Dundalk, and Essex—and its two extension centers. For students, staff members, administrators, and instructors, the summer has brought both opportunity and uncertainty. The college offers more than 100 programs and many second chances, but in the grip of a recession, the one thing no institution can offer is a guarantee.

'A Door Out'

Frank J. Brisson has been driving trucks for nearly 20 years. He's hauled jet fuel from Baltimore to New York's John F. Kennedy airport and driven loads of canned food as far as Alaska. But last February he lost his job operating a dump truck at a local construction site. Now he wants a change.

"I've found every spot there is to find," he says of his travels as a professional driver. "I'd rather be doing something that makes me think."

This past spring, Mr. Brisson enrolled in a program at the community college that trains heating, ventilation, and air-conditioning mechanics. He wants to earn the program's two-year degree at the Catonsville campus.

Mr. Brisson, 48, is among a flood of people in the Baltimore area who enrolled at the college after they lost their jobs or spotted trouble coming. The new students want to retrain for work that is more stable, higher paying, and in greater demand. Meanwhile, the college is also seeing an increase in enrollment among veterans, who are eligible for more-generous benefits under the new GI Bill, and it is handling an influx of traditional-age students whose families cannot afford to send them to four-year institutions as they had planned.

One of the biggest gains has been among students 40 to 60 years old, who are enrolled in occupational programs like dental hygiene, computer-aided design, construction management, and physician's assistance. "A lot of students are shifting out of their old jobs and realizing: This is not a hot career anymore," says Mark Williams, director of career development at Baltimore County. "Some have been laid off and they know, I can't compete where I stand now. I need to be retooled."

Many of the students enrolling here have worked in front-line positions as office assistants, charter-bus drivers, legal aides, and teachers' helpers, jobs easily downsized during bad economic times. Others already have degrees but have been unable to find jobs that they were trained for—or that pay well enough—and are looking for a new skill. Gina A. Strauss, an online academic adviser for the college, is getting 100 more e-mail inquiries each month than she did this time last year from people who want to know what the college offers.

Ms. Strauss answers questions by e-mail about prerequisites and helps students get started selecting courses. Last month she heard from someone who has a bachelor's degree in communications but is interested in the college's veterinary-technology program, and from a woman who has a journalism degree but is considering enrolling in the college's program in hospitality management. Ms. Strauss also got an e-mail message from a prospective student worried about the long-term stability of his current sales job; he wants to earn an associate degree in accounting.

Many of the students who enroll here have complicated lives. Mr. Brisson, the truck driver who has not worked in six months, has been sleeping in his Chevy pickup, surviving on food stamps, and using money from his retirement account to pay for his classes while he waits to hear back about his financial-aid application.

Other students are caring for sick relatives or for grandchildren whose parents have been deployed with the military. Because of all they have to deal with, most can manage to attend classes only part time. "What we have is a population that's always living on the fringe," says Sina M. Reid, a clinical counselor at the community college. "Often, this is where they come because it represents a new kind of life, a door out."

Bracing for the Fall

To open that door, new students must first talk with an academic adviser on one of the college's three campuses. Many who come to the offices are walk-ins, and for some, the visit marks the first hour they have ever spent on a college campus.

Zabrina W. Epps, an academic adviser at Catonsville, has been seeing 10 to 15 students a day. After eight hours of conversations, she leaves drained.

Over the years, Ms. Epps has covered the walls of her office with inspirational messages, from Sophocles, Lincoln, and Thoreau. ("We were born to succeed, not fail.") She also keeps a box of tissues handy; sometimes the people who sit across from her break down. Many students, like the pregnant woman who was laid off from a small company, need help developing an academic plan.

Others are unrealistic. New students, especially those who have lost their jobs, often hope to complete their placement tests right then and there. "When I pull up a degree plan, their eyes light up," Ms. Epps says. "Then I'll ask, 'Are you prepared to do a math-level test today? What grade did you get in Algebra II?' Then they get quiet." So, Ms. Epps often advises them to start with practice tests.

A deficiency in mathematics or reading might mean that a student cannot complete a degree as quickly as he or she hoped. Other complications may also slow them down. In recent months, Ms. Epps has talked with more people who walk in expecting to enroll as full-time students even though they have more than one job, not to mention young children and parents to care for. After listening to their stories, she explains that while the economy has changed, the process of obtaining a degree has not: It still takes at least two to three years.

"When we have that conversation," Ms. Epps says, "it hits the student that they just can't do it all."

On a Tuesday afternoon last month, nearly two dozen people were waiting outside the academic-advising office at Catonsville. There was little room to stand. "It looks like an airport," said Rich Lilley, vice president for enrollment and student services, who oversees the advisers.

This summer, Mr. Lilley has assumed the role of cheerleader, frequently stopping to give pep talks (and pizza and doughnuts) to the staff members who must counsel a constant stream of students, 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. "It's difficult to deal with the 23rd student of the day the same way you dealt with the first," he says, "but that's what we have to do."

All around the campus, administrators were bracing for the fall semester, which begins August 31. On the second floor of the J Building in Catonsville, Dell Hagan Rhodes, director of student life, was considering ways to connect with the fast-growing population of adult students. Soon the college will start a mandatory seven-week orientation course, for all full- and part-time students, that will cover study skills and stress management. On Ms. Rhodes's dry-erase board was a list of long-term goals, including the development of a leadership class and a wellness program.

"If we don't get them involved in cocurricular activities," she said, "we may never see them again."

Nearby, Michael Carey, dean of continuing education and educational development, had spent the morning figuring out how the college could best prepare local residents for jobs as electrical-engineering technicians. In recent years, the college's program had shrunk as local demand for such workers declined. The recent expansion of two nearby military bases, however, will ultimately mean hundreds of new electrical-engineering jobs. So Mr. Carey has helped revamp the college's program, which he now must market—and find enough qualified instructors to fill.

"We get to be educators," Mr. Carey says, "but we have to be entrepreneurs, too."

The need for more instructors was keen in other departments. So far the number of math courses is up 17 percent over last fall, with remedial courses accounting for much of that growth; the number of science courses is up 12 percent. But the college can add courses only as fast as it can find enough adjuncts, as well as rooms for them to teach in at a particular time. "It's hard to find someone to teach science in the middle of the day," says Donna Linksz, dean of the School of Math and Science. "And if someone can only teach math at 10 a.m., we may have to pass."

Although the college has not resorted to layoffs or furloughs to adjust to cuts in state support, it has not filled some nonfaculty positions, requiring some employees to accept more responsibilities. That's why Melissa L. Hopp, vice president for administrative services, had to spend part of her day reviewing full-time faculty contracts—the college's human-resources director recently retired.

Ms. Hopp has overseen several cost-reduction strategies. For instance, the college expects to save at least $25,000 in postage because the financial-aid office switched to all-electronic communications. It has collected about $130,000 in back electric-usage fees since an employee noticed that the college had not been charging the companies that rent campus space for cellular towers. And during the Thanksgiving and winter breaks last year, the college saved almost $100,000 by shutting off the heat in all buildings, including one where local residents hold children's plays.

"We told them they could still use it," Ms. Hopp says, "but that they should bring a sweater."

Perhaps nobody at the college was busier than Fred Schanken, the man in charge of creating classrooms out of thin air. Each day, Mr. Schanken, senior director of facilities management, visits each of the college's three campuses at least once. Since buying his Toyota pick-up two and a half years ago, he has put 74,000 miles on it without ever leaving the state.

In recent weeks, Mr. Schanken has opened a lot of doors, looking for storage rooms and other areas that the college could convert to classrooms. He has learned that walking around with a tape measure is a sure way to cause alarm among faculty and staff members, who often cringe at the thought of giving up space.

"A lot of it is convincing people to give up their sacred cows," Mr. Schanken says.

In total, the system has converted five spaces into classrooms, including parts of locker rooms on the Catonsville campus. Yet one move often begets another. After removing the lounge in one building, Mr. Schanken had to find a place for students to hang out in another. And so the bottom floor of a structure known as "the barn," which is now empty, will soon get computers, accent lights, and vending machines. Because the area is being used by a summer camp through mid-August, workers will have about a week to transform it.

Parking is another concern. At Catonsville, several beeping bulldozers scoot around a giant mound of dirt, where a new library will stand in late 2010. The 75,000-square-foot building will have seven classrooms, as well as study areas and a cafe. Until then, there is an immediate concern: The construction has taken away 100 parking spaces.

"If we see continual increases like this," Mr. Schanken says, "we're going to be out of room."

'Leaner and Meaner'

A sign on the Catonsville campus reads: "Good News! Our in-county tuition is remaining at $90/credit hour for summer and fall 2009."

It's a reminder that the Community College of Baltimore County is inexpensive—charging just $2,538 per year in tuition and fees, or about a third of what nearby four-year institutions cost. And unlike at most four-year universities, students can show up here at nearly the last minute and still enroll. "You can walk in the week before school starts," says Jacqueline T. Cymek, a financial-aid specialist who works with veterans on the Essex campus. "Students will ask me: Is it too late? And usually I say, It's never too late." About 100 veterans are enrolled at the campus this summer—double the usual number and an increase Ms. Cymek attributes primarily to better education benefits under the new GI Bill.

Angela Barrett, a 27-year-old who spent four years in the Air Force, enrolled at a four-year university north of Baltimore when she first got out of the military in 2007. But her biology lecture had 150 students—which overwhelmed her—and administrators, she says, weren't very helpful in sorting out her military benefits. So, Ms. Barrett switched to the nursing program at the Essex campus last fall and has worked closely with Ms. Cymek. "At some of the four-year colleges everything is fax, phone—you don't even get to talk to a person," says Ms. Cymek. "Here, if someone calls I say, Come in and set up an appointment and we'll go through what benefits you're eligible for. It's one-on-one assistance."

As the economy has soured, the college is also getting a greater share of traditional-age students. Almost all of the one dozen students who attended a new-student orientation on the Essex campus in June said they were enrolling because of the price. "I thought I'd go to a four-year college right away, but because of money issues it's just cheaper to get the classes you need here first," said Ashley Golden, a 17-year-old who just graduated from Patapsco High School and Center for the Arts.

Bianca Giorgilli, another 2009 high-school graduate, said that since she has a single parent, "going here is just easier financially on the whole family."

Virginia Zawodny, a student-aid coordinator for the Essex campus, says the number of appeals from students asking administrators to reconsider their applications for financial aid have more than doubled—from 276 requests in 2008 to 583 this year.

Most of the students are asking for reconsideration because either they or their parents have lost their jobs.

Aqmal Majeed's father worked for 18 years as a surgical assistant in a Baltimore County hospital until he lost his job in February. Then Mr. Majeed's mother quit her job at a day-care center after its management changed. Because the family's financial situation has changed so drastically, Ms. Zawodny couldn't use their 2008 tax return to calculate how much they could afford to pay. Considering his family's current financial situation, Mr. Majeed will now qualify for a $5,350 Pell Grant for this academic year, plus 15 hours of Work-Study a week. He plans to enroll in the college's two-year physician's assistant program, and his father is talking about doing the same.

No Sure Thing

With the national economy still in shambles, however, it isn't clear that students who leave the community college here with a certificate or an associate degree will make their way directly into the jobs they've trained for.

Brian R. Penn, who coordinates the heating and air-conditioning program, says lots of businesses are cutting jobs for beginning mechanics and technicians.

"Our business has gotten leaner and meaner," he says. "Some of our students are applying for jobs and doing interviews, but the success rate is not impressive."

Ronald Kevin Gardner just earned a two-year degree in network technology from the community college's Catonsville campus. "I knew IT was going to blow up in the coming years, and I wanted to be able to capitalize on it," says Mr. Gardner, who worked as a maintenance electrician for General Motors for 24 years before he took a buyout.

His plan, he says, was to "jump into IT with both feet once I got my degree," but he quickly found that entry-level positions pay only up to $18 an hour—about half of what he was making at GM. Because his wife recently lost her job at a hospital, Mr. Gardner can't afford to take an IT position that pays so little. So while he waits for her to find another job, he'll continue doing contract work as an electrician.

"In IT, I'll make a lot more money over the long haul," he says, "but I'll have to take the short-term pay loss to start."

Jason C. Yoe is in a similar situation. He spent years working as an auto mechanic—a job he enjoyed and that paid well. But after he injured his back, his doctor told him he needed to find a job that he could do sitting down. He'll finish his associate degree in computer-aided design at the community college next semester and then hopes to transfer to the University of Maryland at Baltimore County. He has a paid internship with the Maryland State Highway Administration, using his computer skills to help with land surveys. He loves the work, but it's temporary and doesn't come with health insurance. "They told me if it wasn't for the economy," says Mr. Yoe, "I'd have a permanent job by now."