This question is coming up more frequently, now that schools built in the post-World War II subdivision boom are reaching the half-century mark. Old urban schools are also wearing out, and even if new classroom wings have been added over the years, that just means the building is partly old and partly new. Additions and repairs to such schools have been done in good faith, but often without any kind of cost-benefit analysis. Taxpayers are right to question why a school is being closed when a new wing was added just two years ago. School officials create problems for themselves, and those who come after them, by not developing a long-range plan before they embark on extensive renovations and expansions of old buildings. (See "Best Laid Plans.")

It's easy to spend $2 million or $3 million on renovation and end up with what's essentially an old, substandard school in compliance with building and fire codes. The physical learning environment of the renovated school often will not compare well with that of a new school, and cosmetic renovations only mask problems. Inevitably, such buildings continue their decline and look quite old again in a couple of years.

I don't mean to suggest that closing a school is always the best choice. My personal preference, in fact, is to keep old schools going if it makes good sense to do so. But when I'm called in to work as a planning consultant with districts, I advise them to approach this decision with a combination of fact finding and "fellow feeling" -- loosely akin to quantitative and qualitative analysis. Here's how you can use both avenues in deciding whether to renovate or replace.

The answers to these questions can be a real eye-opener when compared to similar figures for a newer building. It is not unusual for the operational costs of a small older school to be three times as much per student as the operational costs of a larger school of recent vintage. Just seeing cost comparisons for each district school is enough to make many people think seriously about closing some old schools.

A second set of fact questions addresses alternatives to renovating the current building:

I recently recommended moving one school's staff and students to a school six miles away that was being closed so the first school could be replaced on its original site. The transfer was well-received, as parents wanted the new school and were willing to have their children transported for two years to make that happen. The solution involved scheduling the closing of one school, transferring its students to a new building, and setting up the closed school as a temporary facility for another school that was being renovated. Such ripple solutions can be very effective, but require careful planning, scheduling, and public involvement.

At what point should a district decide that it is too costly to renovate a school? Any cutoff point is somewhat arbitrary, but I raise a red flag when the cost of renovation reaches 60 percent of the replacement cost. I use this figure because it takes into account the remaining life of the old building and the efficiency of improvements compared to the efficiency of a new building. In some states, passing this 60 percent mark requires a new-occupancy permit, which means that all current building codes must be met -- and a whole new set of (expensive) rules apply. So 60 percent is a rough figure for local districts to use when they cannot afford infinite analysis yet want a decision that considers both facts and feelings.

Jerry Rochelle, director of facilities services at the Georgia Department of Education, agrees with 60 percent as a useful indicator but adds another important proviso: "If structural integrity -- life safety codes, fire codes, and safety from asbestos and lead, for example -- cannot be assured after the renovation, then we will not participate in funding the work." He also notes that Georgia allows just a 10 percent variance in classroom and program-area sizes from current standards after renovation. The state also will not participate in funding the renovation of a school with a wooden frame.

Moral: Make sure you know your state's regulations, and make sure the district has in hand a complete survey of needs and costs before you make a decision about renovation or replacement. Having the right facts in hand might change your decision. As it is, many districts spend little or no money on a detailed survey of buildings, and the resulting cost overruns force them to cut major work out of the bid -- which means that the renovated school ends up being not really renovated.

There are no cookbook formulas for qualitative assessment, but wise school officials review recommendations and listen carefully to people in the school and the public at large. Public hearings can be expected to cover everything from the building's architectural style to the community spirit embodied in a school.

Some preservationists think a listing on the National Historic Register is sufficient reason to keep an old urban school. Maybe. But a board has the obligation to ask: Is the goal of a school system to preserve old buildings at any cost? Countless schools built in the majestic turn-of-the-century architectural style appear to be Gothic masterpieces, but inside, they can be black holes that will cost, in a couple of decades of repeated renovations, much more than their replacement.

The Historic Register, while a strong indicator of the need to think before closing a school, should not be the sole determinant of whether to keep an old school. In Georgia, for instance, even if an expert with the state Department of Natural Resources decides that a school building has historic value, the state will not participate in a renovation that costs more than a replacement or cannot adequately house a school program.

One of my client-districts in Alabama recently compared the $7 million renovation and expansion costs of an elementary school for 400 students with the $7.5 million cost of a new school for 500 students. The old building had some architectural merit, with brick veneer that hid a timber construction with load-bearing walls -- which means the rooms could not be readily modified. The school was on the National Historic Register, but that did not prevent the board from deciding to build a new school next door and demolishing the old one to make room for a playground.

Plans for the new building call for picking up on the architectural themes of the old building by using some facade and other items saved from the old building. This compromise shows sensitivity to the loss felt by the community while allowing the board to meet its obligation to use scarce funds wisely.

Sometimes a community needs to preserve something more than memories. That's what happened in Kansas City, Kan., where a planning team recommended closing an old urban school that served 250 students. On the surface, the recommendation made sense: The building would be very expensive to renovate, and there was no room to add on a media center and food service facility. It made much more sense to take care of the enrollment by adding on to another elementary school about one and one-half miles away. Moving the kids to the other school would cut the per-pupil renovation costs in half and would consolidate the schools' administrative costs.

But school officials recognized that the old school served as the focal point of a small, tightly knit Hispanic community. The Kansas City school board weighed the renovation costs against the after-school activities, parental involvement, excitement of the faculty, and other subjective factors that existed at the old school. After reviewing the planning alternatives, the board decided to keep the school and renovate it to the extent possible. A federal district court later identified the process used in reaching the decision as a model for planning.

As this example suggests, it isn't just affluent suburban parents who are vocal about fighting school closures. Urban parents and community organizations also do a good job of lobbying, and their board representatives can make a strong case for keeping an old school open.

In one case last year, my proposal for replacing a deteriorated one-story school with a larger two-story school met heated opposition from some vocal opinion leaders. All of the other new schools in the county had one story, and citizens wanted this particular school to be no different. How we dealt with the opposition shows the importance of what I like to call fellow feeling.

First, we already had a multi-racial citizens oversight group to discuss and offer suggestions for each school in the planning program. The group discussed site selection criteria, building standards, student demographics, and site alternatives. An architect prepared full-color sketches of the proposed school, showing how it compared to a one-story school in this setting.

After the citizens group understood the constraints, they met with the school's PTA in an open-forum discussion that included another presentation by the architect and a review of security issues, site alternatives, and plans for transition to the new building. We revised plans on the basis of public comments, and in the end, the parents supported the plan.

Alternatives need to be developed and priced before any final decision is made. If folks prefer renovation, look carefully at the price and quality of the planned job. Even if you don't end up with something that's functionally perfect (as you would expect in a new school), renovation should produce facilities that are at least comparable to what you find in new schools.

The downfall of many construction projects comes as a result of not developing the entire plan up front. After the project gets started, the district often discovers it can afford only a partial renovation and has to come back over the years to finish the job (at ever-increasing prices). Not knowing all the facts up front means you and the public can't make an informed choice.

So insist on having all the facts and considering all of the feelings before deciding on whether to renovate or replace an old school. Comprehensive planning brings perspective to judgments about what a building means to the community and what the children in your district need.

Kelley D. Carey, a specialist in comprehensive planning, demographics, and facilities planning, is president of Associated Planning & Research, Inc., in Hilton Head Island, S.C.