The creator of the C*O*L*O*S*S*U*S of Mr. Parkhill's class--dedicated to eliciting recognizable English from the foreign born--has been gilding the asterisks. He admits to improving upon his Thirties output, ""widening the role and plumbing the ruminations of Mr. Parkhill""; introducing new faculty and students, and putting Mr. Kaplan through greater histrionic paces. Even if Rosten has not enriched he has not crippled the stories' sense of a time when Liberty's golden door was not so grudgingly opened and pince-nez pedagogues taught night school. But take heart, the peaks remain. There's Mr. Kaplan's aria on Macbeth--""Life? It's a pail full of idiots. . . full of funny sonds and phooey. . .""--and Whitman: ""Oh hot! hot! hot! O bliddink drops rad...""--along with the rumbles of rage and dissent from the classroom chorus. For the faithful and nostalgic following, a chance to recapture those yesterdays when all your tomorrows would ""practically cripp. . . .