NICOLE ABBATE SCOOTS into a seat in a classroom at Boston College’s Gasson Hall on a recent evening. She’s dressed in a combination of fleece, faded jeans, and cashmere. She drops her bulging backpack on the floor with a dramatic thud and, peering out from under a blond bob, starts to talk dejectedly about her prospects after graduation: "I’ve always been like, ‘Okay, I’m sure I’ll get a job somewhere. A job will magically appear some way.’ " She gestures theatrically, shaking her head and laughing in awkward spurts.

But Abbate’s nervous giggles and attempts at optimism don’t mask her mounting anxiety. For the first time in her life, the 21-year-old marketing major is faced with the possibility that all may not go according to plan. That her internship with Reebok’s worldwide-advertising division may not yield a high-paying job in corporate advertising, accompanied by plush accouterments. That she may have to join the ranks of her liberal-arts-major friends, who expect to be jobless in June. So the Connecticut native, graduating into a swiftly downward-spiraling economy, is looking for a back-up plan. The Peace Corps, she declares, is among the alternatives she’s considering — along with Reebok. "I like to keep my options open," she says.

BUILDING GRASS huts in Mozambique, working on agricultural development in Nicaragua, and teaching English as a second language in Uzbekistan — all possibilities in the 40-year-old government program — don’t seem like appealing choices for jobless marketing majors adorned in sparkly eye shadow and polar fleece. After all, having to decide between getting an MBA and teaching AIDS education in Africa hasn’t exactly been routine on college campuses. But that choice is becoming increasingly common as the recession deepens, the country stumbles through complex international affairs, and many graduating seniors find themselves decidedly unswamped with alternatives. Last spring, laid-off dot-commers flocked to the Peace Corps in lieu of the unemployment line; now college students are turning to the program both as an opportunity to ride out the current recession and as a way to help, to do something in the face of war.

Sure enough, for many eager-to-work students, it comes down to the bottom line: the Peace Corps is hiring. For that primary reason, among others less pressing, the agency has seen increased interest over the past three months. In September, the PC’s Web site fielded 1600 more inquiries for applications and information than it did last year during the same month. In October, the comparative increase stood at 2000. And the Corps’ Washington, DC, headquarters has already received 50 more applications over the past few months than it had last year at the same time.

Though there’s always been a stable of young folk for whom volunteering is a heartfelt mission, these days they’re being joined by students for whom community service was, until recently, merely something you did to get into college. And the Peace Corps is attracting many of these refugees from the widening economic and existential hole. Five recruiters in the Boston office set up information sessions at local colleges and interview interested students; recently, they’ve become accustomed to working 14-hour days, racing all over town to field questions, concerns, and application drop-offs.

At the semiannual Peace Corps–sponsored Welcome Back/Sendoff mixer for returned and soon-to-depart volunteers one recent Friday evening, James Arena, the regional manager of Boston’s PC recruitment office, took the podium before 200 or so happily buzzing attendees. "Peace Corps must seize this moment," he intoned soberly, reading a prepared speech. "In this time of great national importance, Peace Corps is part of the solution."

FROM ITS inception in 1961, when John F. Kennedy signed an executive order establishing the agency, the Peace Corps has met Kennedy’s challenge to "ask what you can do for your country." Throughout its 40-year history, the organization has upheld its original goals: to provide trained workers to countries seeking assistance; to promote a better understanding of America abroad; and to restore cultural pluralism to this country. Primarily, the PC bills itself as promoting cultural exchange; community service is a byproduct of its mission. Ideally, PC volunteers initiate educational programs, teaching agriculture, community development, forestry, information technology, engineering, and other fields that can be sustained once they leave. They’re paid a monthly stipend that varies depending on the country in which they’re based, one that’s intended to support them without throwing the local economy off-balance. And, after completing two years of service, volunteers are awarded a "readjustment allowance" of around $6000 when they return home.

The program was an immediate hit. Its ranks swelled from 51 volunteers in Ghana and Tanzania in 1961 to 7300-plus in 44 countries, from Afghanistan to Uruguay, just two years later. In 1966, the Peace Corps reached its highest enrollment, when it had charge of more than 15,000 people serving in various fields. "[Peace Corps] was formed at a time when Americans had tremendous confidence in their own culture and political system," explains Fritz Fischer, an associate professor of history at the University of Northern Colorado and author of Making Them Like Us: Peace Corps Volunteers in the 1960s (Smithsonian, 1998).

But over the next decade, as the country entered the Vietnam War and the civil-rights movement lost its most prominent champions, the once-booming organization saw much of its support wane — especially among the nation’s more idealistic citizens. Add to that President Nixon’s neglect of the program, notes Fischer, and the ’70s saw the group struggling to redefine itself, with some success. The Peace Corps "was revived somewhat in the ’80s," says Fischer, "but never to the same point."

So over the past 20 years, the Peace Corps has worked to refashion itself in order to remain relevant, calibrating its message to appeal to the cultural Zeitgeist. Last spring in San Francisco, as dot-coms laid off workers en masse, the Peace Corps ran a targeted ad campaign: "Dot-Com, Dot-Gone?" it asked. "Now it’s time to network with the real world." "[The campaign] targeted folks coming out of the high-tech industry," explains Ellen Field, national press officer for the PC. "The disillusionment of those companies was just starting to occur, and we had a significant increase both in interest and applications." In other words, bad times — on these shores or abroad — are good for the Peace Corps.

The Peace Corps’ intensive recruitment efforts are due in part to the support of former president Clinton, who increased the agency’s funding by $21 million in 1998 and established an initiative to expand the Peace Corps’ ranks to 10,000 volunteers by the year 2000. Despite falling short of that goal, the program has seen its numbers grow: today’s Peace Corps supports almost 7300 volunteers in 70 countries, operating with a budget of $265 million. "It’s never been an incredibly large organization," notes Fischer, "but the very fact that everyone’s heard of the Peace Corps speaks for its ideological power."

The Peace Corps also paved the way for other volunteer programs, such as AmeriCorps, a 10-month program launched in the ’90s that is often called the "domestic Peace Corps." But, like the Reserve Officers Training Corps (ROTC) — which is also enjoying renewed support on college campuses — AmeriCorps appeals to a different kind of student than does the Peace Corps, if only because AmeriCorps operates solely within the United States. The Peace Corps speaks to those for whom international relations is more than a one-semester college requirement.

For many, these days, the Peace Corps seems more relevant than AmeriCorps or ROTC. "A lot of people are searching for ways to serve their country," Fischer notes. "People want to find a way to help, and Peace Corps is especially attractive for those who don’t want to become involved militarily, who are idealistic about the world in general, people who want to be patriotic, but [who are] still uncomfortable with American foreign policy."