In Fearful World, Party-Night Rituals Offer Protection : These teen-age boys find comfort and security in a painstaking dressing process that includes ironing, creasing, nailing, tacking and stapling.

The ritual of the shoes was revealed to me gradually.

My first indication that something extraordinary was going on was when I noticed the boys in the house took much longer to get ready to go out than did the girls. Another clue was the ubiquitous small nails and single staples of various sizes scattered everywhere. This rapidly became a problem, as I habitually go barefoot. My feet are callused, but they are hardly proof against staples and dormant nails.

I should explain that my roomy old house is home to four teen-agers ages 15 to 16 and is an overnight drop-in spot for about 10 of their friends. Most of the youngsters have had unhappy home lives; two are out-and-out “throwaway kids,” ejected by their parents with no relatives to take them in.

It started last summer when a little neighbor girl asked to see my chickens. She had a sad teen-age sister. The kids would drop in and I would talk to them. At some point--I can’t tell you when--we became a family.

They make up a fascinating community. I have learned a lot by listening to their language and observing their culture--a combination of Latino and U. S. cultures that I think is a unique bridge between the two.

With few exceptions, all my boys are slim verging on skinny, and most of them are not very tall. One day while doing the laundry I had to laugh at the huge size of the jeans I was folding. It appeared I was housing giants, but the young men who really live with me wear 38-inch- to 48-inch-waist pants on 27-inch to 32-inch waists, and never mind the length. I have asked some of them if they wear big clothes because they are not very big. They said they do.

I discovered that the nails and staples were used by the boys to secure their pant hems to the soles of their shoes. Their hems must not become frayed by dragging on the ground, so they must be fastened in some way.

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The choice of fasteners is a highly personal decision. Several use staples tacked strategically around the sole at the sides and the back of the shoe. Others use nails in a variety of sizes. Some use more, some less. One uses a single carefully placed nail at the back of his shoe.

I have failed to discern their decision-making rationale, but I’m certain each determination is well thought out. Often the boys sleep in their jeans and shoes after coming home from parties. Getting out of their contraptions may seem more trouble than it’s worth until next morning.

The process of going out culminates in the shoe ritual. First the boys shower. Those whose heads are shaved must shave them every day and reduce the hot-water supply for the others. Then they must iron their clothes. Pants must be creased just so, and shirts must be without blemish, stain or wrinkle. Shoes, likewise, must be spotless. Many a toothbrush has been sacrificed scrubbing off spots I never would have noticed, even with my glasses on.

If the shoe is a tiny bit too large, with wrinkles at the toes, an extra pair of socks is worn to ensure that the tip is nicely filled out. I have inquired from time to time as to whether this is uncomfortable. To a boy, they have assured me that it is, but fashion holds sway over comfort.

Nailing, tacking and stapling are the final actions. I know where to find my hammers, in the boys’ room. They also keep a variety of pliers and other pulling utensils to help them emancipate their feet.

The fastening time varies from boy to boy. Pant hems must just skim the ground, covering the shoe in a precise configuration. Often the pants have been slit at the outside seam to guarantee that the correct amount of shoe will be left exposed. At the last possible moment, there will be a boy in one room with a stapler, one or two in another with hammer and nails, bending over their feet in obeisance to the spirits of their adolescence.

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I do not take my boys’ rituals casually. Each of them has experienced danger and brutality. They are literally not safe anywhere and they know it. Their rituals, their unvarying dress, are their protection.

Of course their dress varies only in kind from the tie-dyed clothes of flower children, Eisenhower-era felt poodle skirts and Beatle-inspired long hair. All the costumes are a way for young people to differentiate themselves from the grown-ups.

Their clothes are their armor, so I watch for nails and bandage the small wounds I occasionally incur. And I admire their tenacity and courage and the creativity of the rituals with which they guard themselves.