Nothing stops Mike Erwin. A native of Syracuse, N.Y., he enlisted and served in the Army for three combat tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. He’s athletically fit — an endurance runner who’s finished 12 ultra-marathons — and mentally sharp — once a graduate student in psychology at the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor who later taught at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point. He founded Team Red, White & Blue, a nonprofit consisting of 96,500 members in 178 chapters worldwide that enrich veterans’ lives by connecting them to their community through physical activity.
Lately, Erwin has focused on a very unique area than his military pedigree would suggest, but it’s one he believes is vital to the country’s future: How do you teach a second-grader about leadership?
It’s a question Erwin and several elementary school teachers in upstate New York have been contemplating over the past year as part of his latest venture, The Positivity Project. Originally sparked at a discussion group at West Point and later available only as a Facebook page, The Positivity Project now aims to be the defining curriculum for character education in America’s grade schools. (Talks are underway to see it in more than 20 schools across the country by next year.) Amid all the intense pressure to score highly on standardized tests and meet Common Core standards, Erwin is focusing on how public education can mold better citizens.
“I think a lot of people are scared right now. They see the levels of divisiveness. Just read the comments on Facebook threads on an article, they’re angry and negative,” Erwin says. “A lot of parents are looking at that and seeing we have got to create a better society for our children and how they interact with each other.”
Rooted in the concepts of positive psychology — a rigorous, if somewhat new, field of inquiry examining the conditions for happiness — Erwin and the teachers at Morgan Road Elementary School in the Liverpool, N.Y., school district are developing lesson plans based on the two dozen different character strengths at the core of the field, concepts like creativity, love, bravery, teamwork and forgiveness. For 10 to 15 minutes a day, four days a week, the teachings are a simple way to spark discussion in the classroom, a dialogue that’s continued outside of the school grounds via The Positivity Project’s savvy use of social media.
So how does The Positivity Project teach character? The short answer, the teachers say, is a subtle distinction in instruction: Don’t tell kids about behaviors — what they should be doing — and help them realize how their actions affect other people and their own identity — the why behind the behavior. That’s because, when it comes to character, a child is more likely to be respectful if he’s given models of courteous individuals (real or fictional) than if a teacher barks, “Be polite!”
At least that’s how second-grade teacher Amy Figger feels. Before The Positivity Project reinvigorated the school’s strategy for character education, several teachers had dropped it from their day, unwilling to sacrifice 15 minutes that could be used for test-prep skills, she says. But Figger never wavered. “This isn’t about elementary school; this is about something lifelong,” she says.
In her Morgan Road classroom, where she team-teaches 46 students with her colleague Marc Herron, another Positivity Project proponent, she says the focus on 24 character strengths gives them a way to pinpoint unique qualities in each 7-year-old student. “To be a leader, you have these strengths inside of you. Tap into them. And if something’s not your strength, surround yourself with other people to get something done,” Figger says. “You’re not teaching or telling, we’re saying you already have this inside of you. You only need to recognize it.”
Herron notes that character lessons can also help to create a conducive learning environment. Character strengths like curiosity come up in science lessons, and perseverance is noted after hard math problems. With the same lessons taught throughout the school, there’s a stronger sense of community. “We have a common language to use,” Herron says. Sometimes, the character strengths even make their way into faculty meetings, as the educators discuss a student’s progress or their own educational challenges.
Outside Morgan Road Elementary, clinical research seems to give credence to the effect of The Positivity Project on student behavior. Christopher J. Bryan, an assistant professor of behavioral science at the University of Chicago’s Booth School of Business, concluded that kids between three and six years old were up to 29 percent more likely to assist with a task when they were asked to “be a helper,” compared to children who were asked simply “to help.” Same went for cheating, which was reduced by half when youngsters were told, “Please don’t be a cheater,” compared to the other group, told, “Please don’t cheat.” (Younger children learn more from nouns than verbs.)
A similar study by Joan E. Grusec and Erica Redler, psychologists at the University of Toronto, found that praise was better reinforced when it was tied to a fuller sense of self, rather than an isolated behavior. In an experiment, after giving marbles to other children, some kids were told “it was good that you gave some of your marbles to those poor children. Yes, that was a nice and helpful thing to do.” Others heard: “I guess you’re the kind of person who likes to help others whenever you can. Yes, you are a very nice and helpful person.” When researchers returned weeks later and gave the children another chance to share, those in the latter group was more generous because they felt their actions were essential to being a “nice and helpful person.”
Taken as a whole, the findings suggest that positive reinforcement is not just working Pavlovian tricks on kids. Instead, as soon as children begin to recognize their actions are intrinsically related to who they are, they begin to act with a clearer moral compass.
Erwin steeped himself in this research as a graduate student at the University of Michigan under one of positive psychology’s co-founders, Dr. Chris Peterson, the co-author (along with Martin Seligman) of the influential text “Character Strengths and Virtues: A Handbook and Classification.” As a professor at West Point teaching about leadership, Erwin took heart in Peterson’s fundamental idea, “other people matter,” and invited him to speak to his students. But three weeks before the engagement, Peterson died of a heart attack.
Erwin grappled with how to memorialize Peterson’s legacy as he got Team Red, White & Blue — a organization Peterson inspired Erwin to create — up and running, On the side, he started a Facebook page that collected inspirational quotes on character strengths, drawing from the archives of Peterson’s research into how these ideals persisted back to ancient times: Plato, Aristotle, Sun Tsu and Lao Tsu. In March 2015, Herron, an old buddy, reached out to Erwin about the social media account, telling Erwin he loved sharing the quotes with his second graders. After more conversation about how the ideas could translate for young, The Positivity Project began.
Fitting with the times, Erwin’s curriculum has a special focus on technology and social media. Each classroom has a Twitter feed, where the teacher posts quotes that reinforce discussion and model good behavior online. Erwin concedes this focus is also a convenient marketing tool, spreading The Positivity Project’s message across the Internet. But his intentions are deeper. “We’re not very mature in how we [as a society] use our social media and technology. All this change has been thrust upon us so rapidly,” he says. “We need to make sure that we’re talking to our kids about being good people and about their strengths. Before you hit send on something or repost something or text something, okay, am I stopping to think what this is going to do to somebody?”
It all goes back to Peterson’s original message: Have I remembered that other people matter?
Tag: kids
Marriage Equality Happened, But LGBTQ Youth Still Face Acceptance Struggles. Not Here
At least four days a week, Qing, a 24-year-old black gay man, buzzes into an unassuming, century-old high-rise near New York University in lower Manhattan. Squished between an upscale fitness center and a Lebanese eatery, the building’s double glass doors are blank. Its dimly lit hallway appears to lead to a freight elevator. The only clue to what’s inside is a modest sign over the entrance, identifying it as “The Hetrick-Martin Institute.”
When the elevator doors open onto the third floor, the building’s drab exterior falls away like Dorothy’s first Technicolor step into Oz. Here, at the Institute (or HMI, for short), the walls are splashed with rainbow murals, a pointed reference to its work helping New York City’s gay youth. Qing comes here to work on his freelance fashion designs, eat a hot dinner at its cafe and participate in group discussions like “In the Clear” on Tuesdays, where homeless youth share tips on steering clear of rain and snow, or “Neutral Grounds” on Thursday, which focuses on HIV (for kids both positive and negative) and the stigma surrounding the disease.
“Most of the time, if I need a safe space to go to, a place to digress, just to feel cared for and loved, I will always come to HMI,” he tells NationSwell, sitting in a classroom at HMI.
The son of a“deadbeat dad” that was in and out of prison and didn’t “want to change or help himself,” Qing (who asked that his last name not be used), grew up in rough part of the Washington, D.C., area, with his mother and sisters. Homeless for a five-year period, Qing drifted through eight different schools by the time he reached eighth grade. “Sometimes I feel like I’m destined to be like my dad,” he worries before adding, “I use my past as my motivation.”
Qing left his family in Virginia to pursue his fashion and design dreams in the Big Apple. As a child, he escaped life’s commotion by sewing or sketching outfits. “I want to have my own fashion house one day,” he says. “They have an open studio [at HMI], which I can’t find anywhere else. The space, the materials, the proper tools are there to use: my mannequins, fabric, pattern paper.” Recently, he painted, glittered and bedazzled a shoe to turn it into a flower pot. He shipped it home as a gift for his mom.
“Here at HMI, I actually learned how I am more, how I want to be. I came to understand that I live in color and that I don’t have this monotone life, I guess. We always learn to walk in your truth. I practice that every day — being more authentic — like myself all the time,” he says. When visiting certain New York City neighborhoods, like Harlem, people would stare at Qing. “Now, they respond differently. If you show that you respect yourself and love yourself, they will treat you the same way.”
The Hetrick-Martin Institute was founded in 1979 when Dr. Emery Hetrick, a psychiatrist, and his partner, NYU professor Dr. Damien Martin, heard about a 15-year-old runaway who was beaten and tossed out of a group home because of his sexuality. Outraged, they mobilized advocates and welcomed LGBTQ (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and questioning) youth into their West Village living room. (The organization, formerly the Institute for the Protection of Lesbian and Gay Youth, was renamed in their honor when both died from AIDS.)
“It was a very different planet. This was a time when ‘homosexuality’ was in the same paragraph as mental retardation in the [American Medical Association] Journal,” says Thomas Krever, HMI’s CEO, a native New Yorker who previously ran gang intervention programs in Brooklyn and knows firsthand what it’s like to be young and gay. He praises recent significant gains, but acknowledges that homosexuals are still a long way from equality. (For instance, you can read national headlines about a judge in Utah who took a 1-year-old girl away from her lesbian foster mothers, how Houston voters rejected an ordinance protecting gays from discrimination or the latest on Kim Davis, the Kentucky clerk who became a poster child for Christian conservatives for denying marriage licenses to gays. Even in the liberal mecca of New York City, slurs are hurled at same-sex couples walking in Central Park.) And as Krever points out, “I can get married on Sunday and fired on Monday in more states than not.”
HMI has sometimes been pigeonholed as an after-school program for gay youth, but Krever articulates a much more comprehensive vision, inspired by Hetrick and Martin’s initial outreach. At its location on Astor Place, which it co-inhabits with Harvey Milk High School, a public transfer school for kids who were bullied at other schools, HMI wants to create a safe space for 13- to 24-years-olds to be who they are, “where they can get information that is accurate, maybe meet somebody that looks like themselves and has a similar history and experience the rites of passage that this population doesn’t have,” Krever says. (“I know for myself, at high school prom, I was dancing with my [female] date but staring longingly at the boy I had a crush on,” he says.) “It doesn’t mean teaching them fear and how to deny who they are, but how to navigate a system that is not tolerant and accepting,” Krever adds. Through discussion groups, career readiness classes, health programs, academic enrichment and extracurriculars, HMI encourages the 2,000 youth who come through their doors annually to thrive. In the process, it may also shift the opinions of hundreds of thousands of others who witness the teenagers’ successes.
Like the wraparound model at Harlem Children’s Zone, HMI focuses its work on the young person as a whole, addressing homelessness, substance use and risky sexual behavior as symptoms of underlying trauma, rather than as isolated problems. Five counselors provide rigorous therapy for LGBTQ kids who are struggling with their sense of self or are frustrated by feelings of repression and a thwarted desire for certain social interactions.
“Through those double doors in the counseling wing, you have young people that are literally in crisis, with therapists and social workers who are getting at complex trauma and a history of mental health issues,” says Rofofsky.
A typical session might start with a young person revealing his desire to come out to his parents. A counselor will respond, “How about the goal is not whether you’re going to come out or not, but why don’t we explore all the areas in your life that could be safe or unsafe?” As the conversation unfolds, they might explore the details of what coming out would look like at home, in the neighborhood and in the classroom. Often, the teenager may indicate other issues. Worries about a parent getting physically violent upon the revelation of their sexuality, for instance, might lead to more sessions about any underlying childhood abuse.
Some discussions happen in a group setting, like the ones that Qing attends, or through an art therapy class, which 21-year-old Kahdija, a straight ally from Brooklyn, enjoys. Kahdija first heard about HMI from her older sister, who came out as bisexual. She was scared and unsure of what to expect when she first took the elevator up, but she walked in and found a lot of “very flamboyant” guys — all dancing. “I’m here everyday, even on Saturday,” she says. “Yesterday, I stayed at school to finish up work and I kept looking up at the clock to see if I had time to make it to HMI.” When NationSwell visited HMI, Kahdija was finishing up a painting of a snake, refining the colors so that the reptile’s skin was dark with shade in all the right places.
Kahdija says participating in discussions has already changed her viewpoints. A few blocks from where she lives in Flatbush, she once saw a transgender woman harassed by a man yelling obscenities. Kahdija, across the street, watched in horror, but remained silent. After spending time at HMI, she’s now ashamed by her inaction. If she were faced with the same scenario today, she says she’d tell the guys off and suggest the woman go inside where she’d be safe.
It’s precisely that kind of leadership and understanding of the challenges faced by LGBTQ youth that Krever wants to see. He still vividly remembers his first months on the job in 2003, when members of the Westboro Baptist Church (who hold the infamous “God Hates Fags” signs) planned a protest outside the Institute’s doors to mark the start of the school year. Exiting the nearby subway station, Krever heard a roar and his stomach dropped in fear. He turned the corner to discover that the noise came from more than 500 supporters who had made a human chain to allow safe passage for the kids. “It’s how I knew I was at the right place and at the right time,” he recounts tearfully in his office. “I long for the day when it’s not a big deal when another CEO says he’s gay,” Krever says. Today’s not that day, but with HMI’s work, it can’t be far off.
What Does Swimming Have to Do with Stopping the Summer Slide?
“What we believe at Horizons is that all kids are our kids,” says Lorna Smith, executive director of Horizons National. “The gaps of opportunity, technology, education and so on are creating a disparity in the country that’s not healthy for any of us.”
Smith spoke to NationSwell from inside a classroom at Sacred Heart University in Fairfield, Conn. During the summer months, the school lends space to Horizons, a free summer school program for low-income children (preschool/kindergarten through high school) that combines academics with extracurricular activities. Its first chapter opened in 1964 at Connecticut’s New Canaan Country School, and thanks to private schools and universities donating classrooms, the organization now operates 45 programs across 15 states and is rapidly expanding.
Horizons focuses on one major challenge in American education: the summer slide. Although studies find that low-income children learn at about the same rates as their more affluent peers during the school year, they often fall behind as they progress through school. The issue: During the summers, children in poverty are not exposed to as many enrichment opportunities, such as museum and library trips and computer time. That’s because these activities have costs associated with them; plus, low-income parents often have less flexibility with their working hours than their wealthier counterparts.
As a result, academic skills regress, and the effects are cumulative. By fifth grade, low-income kids may be two to three years behind their classmates. And their graduation rate is much lower as well (60 percent versus more than 90 percent for affluent children), exacerbating the cycle of poverty and depriving these children from living up to their full potentials. Horizons keeps these students on track, boasting a 99 percent graduation rate for its participants; 91 percent go onto higher education.
“I think that the biggest thing the program offers kids are enrichment opportunities that they wouldn’t experience living in the neighborhoods that they lived in,” says Kevin Thompson, a former Horizons student who joined the program after the sixth grade. At the time, Thompson lived in a Stamford, Conn., neighborhood that was dangerous and economically disadvantaged, and his mother was in recovery for drug addiction. He believes that Horizons changed his life, citing the daily swimming lessons as a part of the program that helped him get his life together.
Thompson swam for his high school team and was a state-champion diver, which led to a diving scholarship at the University of Connecticut. After that, he continued his education, receiving a master’s degree in educational leadership. Today, Thompson works at Horizons, running a high school program. His eventual goal? To run a Horizons chapter.
“This program is my heart,” he says. “For me, it’s really about seeing these kids strive for excellence.”
3 Top Educators Share Their Secrets to Successful School Reform
For education reform to succeed, there’s one thing it must have: buy-in from teachers. No matter how visionary the school overhaul is, it will never reach students without employees’ consent. In light of a recent Gallup survey finding that 70 percent of K-12 teachers aren’t actively engaged, how can the most promising changes build wider support? NationSwell asked three high-profile educators to weigh in. Here’s what they had to say.
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HAVE ADVOCATES OUTSIDE THE SUPERINTENDENT’S OFFICE
Michelle Rhee, the former Washington, D.C., schools chancellor, said her goal from day one was doing “the job right for the city’s children,” even if it meant she “would upset the status quo.” Which is exactly what she did. Rhee, now chairman of the St. Hope public charter school system, “quickly” (her word) decided to shutter two dozen schools, cut the administrative district office in half, instituted new evaluations, bargained with the union to undo tenure and rewrote the math and reading curriculum. These changes “provoked community outrage” and “caused turmoil in the district” (again, her words), but she says the improved test scores and higher enrollment made the changes worth it.
Today, Rhee (who left the D.C. district five years ago) reflects on how she could have acted differently; she wants the most engaged teachers to be on her side. “Anytime you are working on something that will impact classrooms, reformers need to go to stakeholders,” Rhee tells NationSwell. “Parents will want to understand what the changes mean.… Principals and administrators need to understand the role they will play in managing the instructional program. The community will want to understand how the modifications will result in better schooling for the next generation. But it will always be teachers who will be asked to actually implement the change, making them the most important group,” Rhee says. Engaged teachers will not only incorporate their experience into a program’s development, they will also bring fellow colleagues onboard, which will “ultimately determine the success — or failure — of any initiative,” she adds.
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LISTEN, THEN ADAPT
As superintendent of Fairfax County Public Schools (FCPS), Karen Garza oversees a network of 196 schools in the Virginia suburbs outside of Washington, D.C. One of her biggest issues ahead is managing the budget. “When meeting and talking with employees around the country, and when embarking on my listening tours, I have heard repeatedly how important it is for FCPS to stay competitive in the region with employee salaries,” she says. “Organizations change and evolve, and it was apparent that our needs had changed.” In other words, listening also must translate into meaningful modifications. In January, Garza compiled all she’d heard into a comprehensive $70 million plan to boost employee salaries, while making up the difference in cuts to health insurance, utility costs and employee turnover.
“I understand there is always a little trepidation when a new leader arrives and I am mindful of the tremendous history of excellence that exists in Fairfax,” Garza adds. “However, even with greatest systems, it is necessary to embrace the notion of continuous improvement.”
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NEVER STOP COMMUNICATING
Mike Miles, the superintendent of Dallas Independent School District who’s a fast-rising figure in the education reform movement, sums up his advice succinctly: The “best way to build consensus and buy-in” is to “communicate clearly and often,” he says. “This means you avoid placing an artificial cap on your communication efforts and continually seek avenues to convey your message in a focused and clear manner.” In Dallas, they’ve been doing just that as they roll out the Teacher Excellence Initiative (TEI), a new system of merit compensation that’s replacing the decades-old pay ladders that dole out salaries based on seniority. “Obviously, this major shift takes teachers out of their familiar comfort zone, so communication has been key to creating an understanding of the process,” he says. Miles held staff meetings at every campus, convened a teachers’ task force and shared details with all employees through a website, one-sheet handouts and email newsletter — all before the school board even took a vote to approve the initiative.
Now that the program is underway, Miles continues to ask a panel of expert teachers for their advice on continual improvements, and he’s continuing to share success stories on a news website, The HUB. He believes these two measures “have reduced fears of the program and allowed our teachers to view the initiative favorably,” he says. Overall, “by not placing artificial limits on our communication, we are making TEI a successful project our teachers and community can support.”
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The Two-Pronged Approach That’s Finding Success in Breaking the Poverty Cycle
How do you end poverty? While there’s a wide array of options and theses, one solution stands out from the crowd: education. And not just kids, either. At the Dunbar Learning Complex in Atlanta, Ga., parents are students, too, thanks to its two-generation approach, which is a theory that combines high-quality, early childhood education and career help for parents to build better families and lives.
Comprised of a preschool and public elementary school, Dunbar accepts students into its pre-K program if their parents sign up with The Center for Working Families, a career development center, to improve their job skills. The pre-K is part of the Educare Network, which is a national network of full-day early education schools. The school also has an on-site art studio and infant classrooms, which accept students starting at six weeks of age, reports National Journal.
While parents can drop their kids off from 6:30 a.m. to 6:30 p.m., administrators stress that Dunbar isn’t a daycare; students are there to learn — no matter the age — and every classroom has a curriculum.
So far, Dunbar has provided results. In 2010, only six percent of students entering kindergarten were reading at or above grade level, but after Dunbar’s first year, that number increased to 55 percent. Furthermore, those student scoring below the 30th percentile on the Peabody Picture Vocab Test dropped by 33 percentage points, while those above the 50th percentile increased by 12 percent.
Beyond educating children, Dunbar provides adult services, including assistance with finding special teachers for students, choosing healthcare, inspecting homes for health risks and educating parents through monthly meetings concerning child development, literacy and health. It’s also helped 1,800 parents find jobs and access to services that provide assistance with tax refunds, credits, childcare subsidies and other benefits.
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This Kitchen Serves Up More Than Just Meals; It’s Giving Hope
The Town Kitchen in Oakland, Calif., appears to be your average food-delivery business, but it’s far from that. Not only is its menu of sandwiches and salads unique, so are its employees: They’re all underprivileged youth.
Its owner, Sabrina Mutukinsa, came up with the idea after operating a cupcake company and mentoring low-income kids. Combing her two great loves — food and empowering youth — she created The Town Kitchen, where the daily special is opportunity for a better life.
Since The Town Kitchen opened for business in early 2014, Mutukisna and her head chef, Jefferson Sevilla, have been hiring youth on an event-by-event basis. By the summer, however, they plan to have a full-time staff of 43. Mutukisna hopes to offer college credit to participants.
Not only do workers, ages 15 to 24, learn to deliver food efficiently, but they also receive other marketable skills, such as web design and bookkeeping. And while Sevilla handles all of the cooking right now, once the employees achieve their food safety certification, Mutukisna plans to have them do almost all of the prep work, reports the East Bay Express.
“We want them to have transferrable skills, not just start a jam company,” Mutukisna says.
The for-profit business’s success depends upon the quality of the food and the performance of the workers, so Mutukisna has high expectations, but she’s also hoping to garner the support and goodwill of the community because of The Town Kitchen’s mission of helping others.
So the next time you’re looking for lunch, find out what a difference your dollar can make.
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Meet the Impressive Girl Who’s Working to Save the Planet Before Her 18th Birthday
Every once in a while, you come across one of those kids who’s extra special. Maya Penn is one of them.
At just age 14, Penn has been doing everything she can to achieve her mission of saving the environment. And with everything she’s accomplished so far, she just might do it.
Penn’s mission first took life six years ago when she started her own eco-fashion line Maya’s Ideas. Not only does she design the clothing and the accessories, she also makes them herself using organic cotton, hemp, bamboo, vintage silks and wools. According to Grist, 10 to 20 percent of her profits are donated to charities such as Live Thrive Atlanta and Captain Planet Foundation.
By age 11, the Canton, Ga., resident decided to expand her enterprise by starting Maya’s Ideas for the Planet, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit.
And if that isn’t enough, Penn has also given a TED Talk and written and illustrated two children’s books about the environment: Lucy and Sammy Save the Environment and Wild Rhymes. Her books are printed on recycled paper, thanks to a grant from The Pollination Project, on whose Youth Grantmaking Advisory Board she now sits. As a member, she assists in bringing to fruition environmental projects for youths.
“I think it’s really cool that I’m able to help other people,” she tells Grist. “It’s always been my goal to inspire youth.”
Her latest projects involves technology, and she’s actively developing an animated series on pollination.
So, how does she have time for all of this? Well, Penn is homeschooled giving her leeway in how she manages her time, but she believes that anyone can become involved — regardless of their schedule.
“The smallest action leads to the biggest changes,” she says. “It has a big ripple effect, whether that person knows it or not. And that person might have been scared and might have been doubtful. But they went ahead and did it anyway.”
So, if a 14 year old can do it, why can’t you?
MORE: Watch Neil deGrasse Tyson Give a First Grader Terrific Advice About Saving the Earth
One Small Town in Maine Is Trying Something Radical to Keep Its Population From Decreasing
The problem facing some Maine towns: declining enrollments and budget crunches in public schools.
As a result, some local schools have been forced to close, and the community must send their kids elsewhere for their education. The town of St. Francis, for example, was about to lose its local elementary school because only 32 kids were enrolled. Closing the facility would save the district $170,000, but result in hour-long bus trips to Fort Kent, 16 miles away.
But the residents have come up with an innovative idea that could save their elementary school: give the building to the town. Part of the structure would continue to serve as classroom space for pre-kindergarten through fifth grade students, and the other part would be converted into much-needed housing for town seniors, whose rent would contribute to running the school.
Although there is much to be worked out before the plan can go ahead, both sides involved agree that it’s a good idea. The school district superintendent Tim Doak tells the Bangor Daily News, “The more we talked about it, the more it looked like a win-win for everyone. It would help keep elderly residents in the community, it keeps the kids at school and it could provide jobs.”
Local representative John Martin has introduced legislation to allow this transfer to happen. At a recent school board meeting, he said, “There is currently nothing in the law that gives [St. Francis] the ability to do what they want to do: generate income from elderly housing [and] put them in the position to apply for grants.”
Doak is hopeful that this solution could help other struggling small-town schools in Maine. “I do think this idea for St. Francis can work,” he says. “We just need to move carefully, [and] this could be a model for the rest of the state.”
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Meet the ‘Entreprenurses’ Behind a Clothing Line That Benefits Low-Income Families
Two nurses working in a neonatal intensive care unit have dubbed themselves “entreprenurses.”
To help the babies and their families at the Broward Health Medical Unit in Fort Lauderdale, Fla., Amanda Dubin and Kelly Meyer started a baby clothing company that helps needy families. Luc&Lou donates a onesie to a needy family for each one they sell and also supports nonprofits that benefit low-income families with newborns.
The design feature the tiny footprints of a 29-week-old infant that Dubin and Meyer cared for in the NICU. On one of the onesies, the footprints form the yellow rays of a sun and on another, a purple butterfly. “We were giving back to these little babies, and we wanted to really do it on a larger scale,” Meyer tells the Sun Sentinel.
Dubin says that they were inspired by the fighting spirit of the preemies they care for. “If they can do what they do, we can do anything.”
Now, Luc&Lou onesies go home with every “welcome to the world” package the Healthy Mothers, Healthy Babies Coalition of Broward County gives to low-income mothers of newborns. Sales from Luc&Lou products also benefit Fort Lauderdale’s Jack & Jill Children’s Center.
Meyer and Dubin have sold about 400 onesies so far and aim to expand. “We will always be nurses,” Dubin says. “That’s who we are. But we want to go bigger so we can help more people.”
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At This School, Parents and Kids Learn Side-By-Side
School is in session, but at the Briya Public Charter School in Washington, D.C., the students are certainly not who you’d expect to be roaming the hallways. Instead of just kids, there’s adults in attendance, too.
Back in 1989, Briya began as a family literacy center run by and for immigrants, but it gained charter school status in 2005, reports National Journal. Since then, the school has doubled as a place for both adults and young children to learn, as well as a day care for the adult students’ young children. While not a requirement, most students are immigrants, who attend for free.
The philosophy behind Briya? That the only way to stop the cycle of low-income families is for parents and children to have access to the same essential resources: education, health care and work skills. So Briya combines all three of those into one, offering classes for adults in English language, basic computer skills and parenting. While classes, which are held each day for two-and-a-half hours, aren’t compulsory, it’s expected that adults will attend for at least one year (some may enroll again the following year).
Through its “two-generation” approach, Briya is aiming to tackle the problem of poverty at its core: the family.
“They’re getting English classes, and someone’s going to take care of [their] kid,” Briya Executive Director Christie McKay tells National Journal. “They want [their kids] to do well in school, better than they did.”
And for many, that’s the first step to success.
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