WHEN I WAS a youngster, we slipped far enough down the economic ladder to qualify for public housing. In fact, that apartment on Griggs St. in Conyers, Ga., was the first place we lived that had indoor plumbing. But we weren't on Griggs St. long. After a few years in the projects two-family brick dwellings nothing like the high-rise monstrosities in New York we were deemed capable of making it on our own. And we did, though not without a struggle.

The notion of taking a little government help to tide oneself over one of life's rough spots, and then moving on and hopefully up, seems lost on many aid recipients today, whether they are on welfare or live in the projects. Back home I have cousins and former schoolmates who have never held jobs in their adult lives; while drinking, drugging and watching the soaps and Oprah, they live for their checks from the government.

When we hear the words "welfare reform," many of us no doubt think of someone as infuriating as my cousins and old classmates. But in the rush to cut their Gordian knot of dependency, we should not forget that spirit of extending a helping hand that New Yorkers codified six decades ago when they amended the constitution to make clear that the "aid, care and support of the needy are public concerns that shall be provided by the state."

We should not throw out the babies along with the adult able-bodied in the name of reform. If some politicians in Washington and Albany have their way, that's what could happen. Several months ago, Gov. Pataki vowed "sweeping changes to a failed welfare system." He would have kicked childless adults off Home Relief after 60 days, whether or not they had jobs; slashed benefits to families with children by up to 25%, and discontinued rent subsidies.

Thankfully, however, there's such a thing as the political compromise. As state budget negotiations finally picked up steam, legislators forced Pataki to back away from such drastic measures while still taking steps to force more people to work, in public works jobs or for nonprofit organizations, if not the private sector.

For some reformers conservative and liberal the major goal is instilling pride, dignity and confidence in long-term welfare recipients. "The cost of welfare is not to the taxpayer," Andrew Cuomo, an assistant secretary at the Department of Housing and Urban Development, said at a business conference in Harlem last week. "The cost of welfare is to the person who has to take that check every week because that person, that woman, pays with her self-respect when she takes that welfare check."

For others, of course, welfare reform means saving money, pure and simple. They don't consider the consequences of drastic cuts coming from the feds, state and city all at once. That's what's so offensive about the approach taken by the governor and state legislative leaders: As they debated recently behind closed doors, they offered no opportunity for "we the people" to take part in a comprehensive discussion of this state's direction and priorities.

Reforming the welfare system is not necessarily cheap, so the issue must not be seen solely as a budget-balancing measure. Where are the private-sector jobs that these able-bodied Home Relief recipients are supposed to look for? Who's going to teach them how to go about looking for work, how to develop a work ethic, how to deal with authority, how to hold onto a job? Who's going to pay? And what about helping these new workers handle the inevitable crises the sick family member, the abusive mate, the transportation breakdown, the letter demanding that they show up at the welfare office during working hours to be recertified?

Peter Cove, whose America Works finds jobs for recipients of Aid to Families with Dependent Children and then provides them with ongoing supportive services, says that is the key to permanently moving people off the welfare rolls and onto payrolls. Isn't it time we have a serious discussion about how to achieve true welfare reform?