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by Barry Owens

"Dear Ms. Solution," the column begins. "I have a problem. I got in trouble the other day for something I definitely didn't do. But I think I know who did. What should I do?"

"Ms. Solution's" answer is wise beyond her fifth-grade years, closing with this timeless advice: "Don't get upset and don't be a tattletale (unless it was something really important)."

The young advice columnist takes a last look at the copy before turning it over to the copy desk at the P.S. 234 Unlimited, a school newspaper staffed entirely by fifth-graders that rolls out its first edition early this month. The copy would no doubt be sent back for some revisions, but overall, "Ms. Solution" was confident the column would strike a chord with her readers.

Not that she was eager for a byline.

"I kind of don't want people to know that it's me," she told the Trib on the condition that her name not be revealed in this article.

Milo Ben-Amotz, on the other hand, has no problem with a byline. He uses two. "I am 'Mr. Update,'" he said. "But that name sort of doesn't fit with this," he said, proofing a political piece about students' reactions to the outcome of the presidential election.

The eight-page paper, which will publish monthly, is overseen by parents Stephanie Izarek and Dan Costa, who promise a light hand in the newsroom.

"We are only here to help get the paper out the door," said Izarek, noting that the content of all stories, columns and cartoons is left up to the students.

For investigative reporter Omari West, that freedom meant he could go to school authorities and ask some tough questions about deficiencies in the lunchroom.

"I'm going to find out why they only play the same two movies over and over in the lunchroom," he said.

He had yet to conduct an interview, but after a story conference with Izarek he had determined two things: "I

need to talk to Ronnie," he said, referring to the person in charge of the school lunchroom. "I also need to find out his last name."

The students gather weekly after school in a third-floor science room to propose story ideas, make photo assignments and edit copy. On this day, writer Damir Inbar came to the meeting with two pieces he had prepared for the Unlimited-a poem about chocolate and a feature story on The Beatles. Also tucked into his folder was a first- edition copy of "Now: P.S. 234's Trusty Boredom Quencher," a paper Inbar launched and distributed in the school on his own in October. The four-page paper was short-lived, however. The Unlimited was launched to provide a learning opportunity for more of the school's students and principal Sandy Bridges decreed that she wanted just the one paper. Most of Inbar's small staff had defected to the larger school paper anyway.

"This is all that I ever wanted," Inbar shrugged. "I love to write and draw." But, he allows, in a whisper, he misses being "leader of the pack."

Meanwhile, back at the copy desk, former Now staffer Mary Clair Miskell and Unlimited staffers attacked the ever-growing mound of copy-striking through words and scrapping entire sentences with a relish that made a visiting reporter a bit uncomfortable.

"I like this," said Miskell. "I like this a lot."