Spring/Summer 2004

Volume 33
Numbers 3-4

Learn First:
The Policy of Access

Nolita Clark (with Judge Frank Cook, for whom she works)
Shannon Stanfield

Individuals and communities accrue enormous social, cultural, and financial benefits when low-income, single mothers are supported in post secondary educational endeavors. As two students currently enrolled in a unique program at Hamilton College called The ACCESS Project, we understand how higher education has changed our lives and those of our peers. This project is an educational, social service, and career program that assists low-income parents in our efforts to move from welfare and low-wage work to meaningful and secure career employment through the pathway of higher education. On a daily basis, the program supports students academically as well as helps them overcome substantial obstacles such as lack of adequate childcare and transportation, domestic violence, homelessness, hunger, and low self-esteem.

Students in our program represent a broad range of experiences, abilities, strengths, and challenges. Over 85 percent of ACCESS students are single mothers; 83 percent are over 25 years of age and 58 percent are over age 30; 25 percent are physically and/or learning disabled, 48 percent have high school degrees and only 7 percent had parents who ever attended college. All live below the poverty line (95 percent of us also did so as children) and are eligible for welfare. The average number of children in our homes is 2.3 (which mirrors the national average for all families) and varies from students with only one dependent child at home to others with as many as seven children.

As a group we are fairly representative of the larger "welfare recipient" population in our area. Many of us also experience hardships typical of welfare populations in the contemporary U.S. Both as children and as adults, most of the students in our program have lacked medical and dental care, been homeless or evicted, suffered abuse, and perhaps have experienced low self-esteem and depression as a result. It is equally true, however, that once in the ACCESS program we thrive and succeed in school, work, and with our families. For example in 2003-2004, our ACCESS cohort earned a B average in our courses. We earned these grades (that we are very proud of) while caring for and nurturing our children; working and gaining valuable skills, experience, and networking connections; increasing our understanding of and commitment to the workings of our communities and our nation; and moving permanently away from social service supports.

Our individual experiences are typical of both the struggle and determination that have marked our lives and the lives of our colleagues who are all working student parents. Taken together these narratives represent both the breadth and commonalities of our experiences as low-income, single-mother students.

Nolita
I am a single mother and student who will be a senior this fall at Hamilton College. My goal is to finish my degree and go on to complete a law degree so that I can practice corporate and Native American tribal law. Today, my daughter is a healthy, inquisitive and loving four-year-old. Her life, and my own today, is very different from my own childhood, which was one of my primary motivations for enrolling in school initially.

When I was two, I was introduced to a world of violence, abuse, alcoholism, and drug addiction by my married parents. One of my very first memories was my mother being drunk and breaking my arm. My second was being so badly beaten that I was knocked unconscious. For several years, when I went to sleep at night I would wonder how long I would be able to survive in this world and whether there would be any escape from my abusive home. I was eventually removed from my parents and placed into foster care after many years of torment.

Three events have dramatically changed the course of my life. The first was that after dropping out of high school and while pregnant, I enrolled in a Native American school program in Syracuse, New York. There, patient, kind, and encouraging teachers assisted me in earning my GED. This program was also pivotal in allowing me to connect with other Native American people. I belong to the Prairie Band Potawatomi tribe of Mayetta, Kansas, and have always felt close to my people who seem to be fighting many of the same struggles in life that I am.

Second, I gave birth to a daughter who is caring, energetic, and delightful to be around. She loves me very much and looks up to me to provide her with the love and guidance she needs to be successful in life. When she was born, I realized the opportunity I had to give my daughter the very best and encourage her to reach her fullest potential in the world. The fear of my daughter ever experiencing the things I did motivates me every morning to get up and continue on the pathway I have begun for both of us.

Finally in 2001, I entered into the ACCESS Project. With the help of faculty and administrators I have successfully taken classes, learning a great deal about the world, the academy, and myself in the process. Being the single mother of an energetic pre-schooler, a full-time student, and an employee is not easy. During the school year I work about 30 hours a week and on semester breaks I work full time. I generally get about four or five hours of sleep a night and have never had a vacation break from school or work. While fellow students at Hamilton talk of their spring breaks and social events, I head off for work required to support my family. In my spare time, I want nothing more than to read and play and talk with my daughter. Life is difficult, and sometimes almost impossible, but we have a goal and day-by-day we know that we will make it. I will be a professional. We will own a home. My daughter will always be safe, cared for and loved, and she will graduate from high school, go to college, and never experience the pain and uncertainty that I have known.

Although I could not have envisioned this life two or three years ago, with the help of fine educators and with the inspiration my daughter provides me, I have begun a new life. I will bring honor to my daughter, my teachers, and my community. We have begun a legacy of change and are excited and secure about our future.

Shannon
I come from what many in our nation proudly refer to as the heartland. I was raised by wonderful parents who have now been married for over fifty years. We lived in rural upstate New York, where my father was a carpenter and my mother stayed at home to raise eight children. Although we never had much money, we were loved and cared for as my parents provided us with models of hard work and decency.

Like my parents before us, college was not in the plans for our futures. Following my father, my four brothers went on to become hardworking carpenters, and like my mother, my three sisters and I planned on becoming wives and mothers. When I married right after of high school and followed my husband across the county so that he could pursue his career, I was confident that I was doing the honorable and reasonable thing. Yet, less than seven years later, I found myself alone with two small and rather traumatized babies, after being lied to, abused, and eventually abandoned.

I simply did not know what to do. I had no resources for putting my young family's life back together. Without any savings, with little education or work experience, I found myself at the mercy of the state. When I went to apply for minimal food stamps and medical insurance, the welfare caseworker was explicit and clear. My children and I were "a drain on the taxpayers," and I must go to work immediately. I was ashamed, embarrassed, and humiliated. Of course, I wanted to work and care for my own children, but the pay for the job to which I was assigned barely covered my rent and left nothing for baby diapers, utilities, or transportation. Each morning I would leave my children to trudge off to a job that could never support us.

The only joy I had in life during those years was being with my children late in the evenings and on the weekends when we would color and read together. Art became my therapy and I dreamed that one day I might go to college to study education and art to forge a career in education that might deliver me and my children from an uncertain and violent past. I imagined taking my children with me as I climbed over the walls built by hopelessness.

Today I am enrolled at Hamilton College and we now walk in a place where hope and opportunity abound. College allows me to wash away the stains of my past as I begin to realize my own potential and as I reshape my family's future through knowledge, self-respect, and fulfillment. It is certainly not easy being in school. I study day and night (and have an A average), work 30 hours a week as a teaching assistant, and care for my two beloved children. But it is more than worth it. In school, I study mathematics, English, anthropology, science, philosophy, and art. My children and I continue to study, learn, and grow together. Today, I am an independent, capable, and hardworking mother raising engaged, self-sufficient, and honorable children. We are on a pathway that will change our lives for the betterment of the culture and our community.

Other women in the ACCESS program share similar experiences. They work diligently and strive to learn, grow, and provide good lives for their children. Most of us have struggled, but we use those struggles to focus and increase our resolve to succeed. Our lives of pain and strength, determination and drive stand in stark contrast to the portraits painted by political pundits and welfare reform advocates about our lack of motivation and ability.

We are grateful for the opportunities we have been given but remain frustrated that because of welfare policy so many others--and certainly the neediest among us--are never allowed to even attempt to reach their fullest potential, denied the opportunity to work diligently so that they can hold their heads up with dignity as responsible and successful parents and professionals. Supporting rather than thwarting poor, single mothers like us in our efforts to access and benefit from higher education would serve as a testament to the promise of a truly free nation. It seems far wiser to re-invest in a national ethic that values and rewards hard work, integrity, diligence, and responsibility as the foundation and requirements of success, security, and the pursuit of happiness in the United States today. We are convinced that such an investment would confirm the power and potential of higher education and fulfill the promise of this nation.