"It's still very close to being dead," said William "Pila" Wilson, one of the founders of 'Aha Punana Leo language program and chairman of the Hawaiian program at the University of Hawai'i at Hilo. "A language is dead when children are no longer speaking it. Once children stopped speaking Hawaiian, especially to each other, we knew it was going to end."

In 1896, three years after the overthrow of the Hawaiian monarchy, a law was implemented, stating: "The English language shall be the medium and basis of instruction in all public and private schools."

"That was a real death knell," said Albert J. Schutz, author of "The Voices of Eden: A History of Hawaiian Language Studies."

"That meant the younger people weren't using it anymore and it was only the older people that spoke the language."

As the Hawaiian elders died, so did the language.

A 1917 editorial in the Hawaiian-language newspaper Ka Puuhonua discussed how the ban was already having a major impact in just two decades.

"We now find that our mother tongue is being spoken in a broken manner. There are no children under the age of 15 who can speak the mother tongue in this land properly. ... And in a very short period, we will find that the language is gone," the editorial said.

A rare exception was the island of Ni'ihau, where because it was privately owned and isolated from the state's rules, Hawaiian thrived through the years. Ni'ihau currently has about 160 residents, all of whom speak Hawaiian.

With extinction looming elsewhere, a resuscitation movement began in the 1970s. In 1978, Hawaiian was re-established as an official language of the state. In 1990, the federal government adopted a policy of recognizing the right to preserve, use, and support indigenous languages.

Today, as hula and Hawaiian music spread beyond the islands, even non-Hawaiians are picking up the language. About a fifth of the students at Nawahi have no Hawaiian blood, such as blonde, freckle-faced freshman Kemele Lyon.

"The reason I love to speak Hawaiian," she said, "is because I think it's the most beautiful language I have ever heard, and every sentence is like poetry."

Before moving here from Southern California five years ago, all she knew in Hawaiian were the words "aloha" and "mahalo" (thank you). Her Hawaiian is now as graceful as the waterfalls outside Hilo.

Lyon also knows how to use traditional plants as medicine, play ancient games and pound the taro plant into poi.

"Everything in America is about you. In Hawaiian, it's about your kupuna (elders), grandparents, parents and your family," she said. "I feel their way is my way. I would never claim to be Hawaiian, but in my mana'o (thoughts), I feel Hawaiian."

Almost all the students at Nawahi started out speaking English, but Kalehua Ontai, a bashful 11-year-old girl whose personality comes to life when she plays the 'ukulele, only started learning English last year.

"The Hawaiian language is my first language. The Hawaiian language is the language of my ancestors and it's the language of my land," she said. One of the few students outside Ni'ihau who learned Hawaiian at home, she is an example of the progress made in the revival of the language.

At Nawahi, the school day begins at 7:45 a.m. with the haunting moan of the conch shell, which serves as a school bell and calls everyone to gather in the open-air courtyard. Through chant, the students ask the teachers for permission to enter.

Throughout the day, students use chants, some resounding and forceful, others playful and light.

They end the day with song or prayer — echoing the cadences of their ancestors, which nearly went silent.