(FORTUNE Magazine) – IT HASN'T ALL been fun on the jungle gym for the biggest player in the game of caring for tiny tots. KinderCare's business is one of the world's toughest and most emotionally charged. A junk-bond-financed diversification binge by its former parent Enstar Group in the late 1980s eventually forced the Montgomery, Alabama, company into bankruptcy. But in April, after five months, it emerged from that time-out for bad behavior as the nation's only publicly traded company devoted solely to child care. To lure back wary investors, CEO Tull Gearreald, 48, a former Merrill Lynch investment banker, is pursuing a strategy that would serve any manager well: Listen to customers, and act on what they tell you. To battle teacher turnover -- a huge complaint among parents and the bane of an industry where low wages and long hours are the norm -- Gearreald is requiring new caregivers at KinderCare's 1,160 centers in 39 states to take a 12-hour ''survival training course.'' Teachers get paid for their time and learn the company's teaching methods, conduct guidelines, and techniques for dealing effectively with parents. ''They used to learn this on the job, which can be very stressful and discouraging,'' says Gearreald. ''We hope the training tells them, 'We think you're valuable, so we're making an investment in you.' '' In January, KinderCare opened its first center catering expressly to commuters. In a renovated supermarket in Lombard, Illinois, steps away from the busy Metra train station that runs into Chicago, it gives harried moms and dads a convenient one-shop stop at rush hour. Robert Schiel, vice president of the new KinderCare at Work division, notes, ''We even have free coffee.'' The hours are a bit longer than normal too -- 6 A.M. to 7 P.M. -- again, at the request of commuting parents. The company is talking to transportation authorities in New York, San Francisco, and Washington, D.C., about similar sites. KinderCare is listening to kids as well. Its new Kid's Choice centers accept only children age 6 and up. Bigger kids, says Gearreald, whose own son, Bud, 4, attends a KinderCare in Montgomery, often gripe about having to ''hang around babies.'' The appeal for kids: computers to use for homework or games, and a big-screen TV for movies. (Gearreald vows it will not be tuned to MTV all day.) The appeal for KinderCare: Such centers, located in shopping strips and malls, are cheaper to equip and launch -- $200,000, vs. $1 million for a typical stand-alone facility -- and cheaper to operate, since they require full staffing only before and after school. The first Kid's Choice center opened in mid-August in El Paso, Texas, and Gearreald plans to roll out 25 more by March. So far this progress hasn't shown up in KinderCare's share price, which is languishing around $12 after initially shooting to $17 when the company came out of Chapter 11. Its toughest competitors are small, neighborhood child-care providers that offer considerably fewer amenities and services but usually cost less -- KinderCare's typical weekly charge ranges from $80 to $120. An added burden: Interest payments on its $237 million in debt still eat up nearly a third of operating income. Says an analyst who admires the company: ''It's going to take a couple of decent quarters to get KinderCare on investors' radar screens again.'' Alan Dorsey, director of research for Value Investing Partners in Westport, Connecticut, thinks that will happen in the next 18 months. He estimates KinderCare will earn $27.3 million on sales of $468 million, or $1.15 a share, in the 1994 fiscal year ending in May, and $33.3 million on revenues of $507 million, or $1.40 a share, in fiscal 1995. GEARREALD insists KinderCare can achieve this growth without chasing the unrelated businesses -- retailing, banking, and insurance -- that enticed his predecessor, company founder Perry Mendel. One huge potential market: building child-care centers for big employers or running their existing facilities for a fee. KinderCare is already operating centers for 35 large organizations, including Citicorp and Walt Disney, and expects to have 40 or so signed on by October. It also plans to open its first overseas center in Britain by fall 1994 and may eventually expand into New Zealand and Australia. ''We'd like to stay in countries with a common language,'' says Gearreald. ''There are enough cultural differences we'll have to work out.'' Makes sense. For an outfit that prides itself on listening, merely adjusting to a new argot -- nappies instead of diapers, and push-chairs instead of strollers -- should be challenge enough.