The last year and a half, as I’ve watched the systematic dismantling of democracy and the trickle down suffering it’s created for entire communities, putting words to the pain has felt an awful lot like screaming into the void.
The scale of what’s happening feels too massive. The people in power seem to be fueled by a bottomless vat of money, self righteousness and hate that has allowed them to take a wrecking ball to everything from social services and foreign aid to public education and health care to civil rights and human rights to the literal walls of the White House.
To remedy some of the overwhelm and helplessness, I gathered some friends, neighbors and colleagues. I figured we could scream into the void together and then maybe find some ways to fill it in so it would feel less … abysmal. We’ve protested, written post-cards to voters, volunteered to share food with low-income families, collected items for unhoused people, and advocated at board meetings.
I’m new to this type of activism. It feels very much like a muscle that I need to keep moving so that it can become stronger. And that I’m actually just now, at 44, learning what it really means to be civically engaged. To be a citizen in a democracy. Honestly, I don’t know what I’ve been doing this whole time- I feel a bit like a toddler figuring out how to wrangle my legs.
It’s baby steps. It’s taking small risks and falling and picking myself up and trying again. It’s patience and persistence and watching the seasoned experts around you. Luckily, I crossed paths with Fanny.
Fanny serves as the family liaison at the middle school I used to work at. But that job is just a small fraction of the work she does for our community. She is a tireless advocate for the immigrant community in our area and she’s a fierce supporter of public education. She has this uncanny ability to both call students out for their poor choices while also making sure they feel heard and cared for. She seems to know everybody and she’s always doing, doing, doing. Organizing and hosting food distributions; celebrating single moms with a special dinner before Mother’s Day; tracking down resources and jobs for those who need them. When I decided I wanted to stop crying into my pillow and start taking action, I reached out to her. We met up for coffee and she invited me to visit our neighborhood resource center.
Years ago, as an instructional assistant in a 7th grade history class, I remember learning about Hull House, a settlement house in Chicago for working class people, many of whom included new immigrants.
The founders, Jane Addams, Ellen Gates Starr, and Mary Keyser, had the idea that they could better serve the public by living with the people they were supporting.
“Hull-House became the country’s most influential social settlement, expanding to include thirteen buildings, where Addams and her circle of social reformers provided kindergarten and day care facilities; an employment bureau; an art gallery; libraries; English and citizenship courses; and theater, music, and art classes. They championed immigrant rights and improvements to public health. They worked to end child labor, instituted juvenile justice, supported unions, built playgrounds, and advocated for public housing. Over many decades, Hull-House upheld free speech, dissent, and civil rights,” according to the Jane Addams-Hull House Museum website.
As I’ve taught in schools with significant working class and immigrant populations the last several years, I have routinely thought to myself, “we need to reinvent Hull Houses in Herndon.”
But it turns out, it was already here.
Fanny walked me into the Herndon Neighborhood Resource Center and showed me a community hub providing services and programs in a variety of areas including social services, education, health and well-being, and arts and culture.
Sure, it’s on a much smaller scale than the Hull House in Chicago, which at its peak had a campus of 13 buildings. HNRC has a small storefront tucked in a strip mall (it is Northern Virginia afterall) right off of Elden Street. There community members can stop in and find support for any number of needs. It’s always busy- families popping in and out, kids peeking out behind corners, multi-lingual staff greeting visitors with a smile. The walls papered with information about resources, classes, and events in multiple languages.
During a later visit, my neighbors and I toured the classrooms of Kids and Parents Engaged (KAPE), an afterschool and summer program for nearly 50 elementary, middle and high school students in our community. Karen, the program director, shared about all the ways they helped – offering not only homework assistance and academic enrichment, but also a space where children can develop social-emotional and life skills, explore careers, and find help with their mental health. The program, which primarily serves low-income and immigrant families, also works to improve relationships between caregivers and children.
As an educator, my first thought was, “thank god this program exists.” There is so much need in our schools – students arrive overtired, anxious, and disengaged. They struggle to make progress in school, not because they aren’t intelligent or capable, but because they’re often carrying enormous mental and emotional burdens. Learning English, holding down afterschool jobs to help pay rent, caring for younger siblings while their parents work, not to mention dragging the weight of often unspoken, unprocessed trauma. Added to that, many are living with the very real possibility that any day their family members- their mothers and fathers, aunts and uncles, might be picked up by immigration enforcement.
As a teacher, I try to make the most of the 90 minutes I have with them every other day. I check in with the ones who look drawn and anxious. I offer an encouraging word or a snack. I urge them to identify academic goals and then try to help them make even a little progress. Most days, I’m pushing the same boulders up the same hills. It is not enough. I am limited. By training, by expertise, by bureaucracy, by time, by the needs of my own family. Our building is filled with educators who all want to do right by our students. We want them to pass our class, sure, but we also want them to feel safe and to feel seen. To feel hope. Schools can provide some services – an education, a free lunch, access to behavioral support, career readiness programs, mentors, and athletics and activities, but it’s not a one-stop shop for solving all of society’s needs. At some point, educators have to pass on the baton.
That’s where programs like KAPE come in.
When we spoke to Karen about KAPE, we could feel her enthusiasm and affection for the students who attend. Not only does she shepherd them toward academic success, but she wants them to find their voice, to feel safe, and to improve their relationships with their families. They work on self-awareness, self-advocacy, and social skills. In addition, Karen and her team connect families with social services, mental health and workforce readiness programs. They even help families navigate school conferences and IEP meetings. Parents share that Karen helps teach their children the importance of love.
When families speak about Karen, the word “angel” is used frequently.
A couple weeks ago Fanny texted: the after school program would be closing at the end of June because of a lack of funding. The families were devastated. Was there anything we could do?
Cornerstones Inc., the nonprofit that has housed KAPE for the past 15 years, no longer has enough money to run the program, which is budgeted for $290,000 annually, most of which goes to paying staff a living wage.
During a meeting with families and community members on June 4, the Cornerstones CEO shared that there are fewer funding streams than there had been in previous years – the large-scale donors are increasingly tapped out. And county and state grants are drying up, too.
They were working on possible avenues for keeping afterschool and summer programming alive, but none of them were definite.
I’m writing on June 10. Raising $290,000 in 20 days feels like such a daunting task. Especially for such a small program, relatively. Especially when there is already so much need. Especially at a time when so many families are struggling.
But I started thinking about the number, relatively.
Like, it seems relatively small next to the estimated $60 million the UFC is using to construct a fighting cage on the White House lawn. It’s 0.5% of the $400 million that’s being spent on the ballroom.
The Guardian shared about a website on which you could find out how long it takes for different billionaires to earn your salary.
According to that site, Jeff Bezos could cover the bill with just 1 minute of his earnings. Elon Musk or Mark Zuckerberg could do it within an hour.
This makes $290,000 seem like pocket change.
During a community meeting about KAPE, I listened as a grandmother pleaded for the program.
“[Karen] doesn’t just help the kids, she also helps the families so the families can be well,” shared the grandmother whose three grandchildren attend KAPE. “So that they can be kids that have a roof over their head, they can have food and they can make progress at school. Many of us families who have received this news about the program- it makes a big impact on our lives and our community. For us, it’s going to make a big impact because there will be families that have to break up or leave because they no longer have help – this very valuable two hours.”
Here’s what sticks out to me: These families are not asking for much, just two hours a day during which their kids have a safe space to learn while they work.
And the payout for investing $290,000 a year so that 50 kids can receive a couple hours of care a day: Hope. Ambition. Possibility.
Kids, parents and program alumni repeatedly shared the impact of KAPE: More confidence in school. Improved grades. Thinking beyond graduation. Finding friends and community. All of that gets reinvested back into the community, right? Because if kids attend school regularly and find success, they’re more likely to graduate on time which leads to better long-term outcomes. They’re to continue their education. To find better jobs. They’re less likely to spend their free time making poor choices.
One program alumnae shared that she joined KAPE years ago as a defiant 17 year old with little hope for her future. But Karen quickly showed her the value of ambition, drive, kindness, patience and above all the power of hope. Last month, that young woman graduated from George Mason with a Bachelor’s of Science degree in nursing.
“This dream was not possible without the support of amazing community programs and the amazing people who run it,” she shared with the Herndon Town Council. “I’m a walking testimony of the importance of youth programs and how it can lead us to defy the odds, despite the unfair hands that we’ve been dealt in life.”
Using this student as an example, my friend Kim pointed out that programs like KAPE are a force multiplier. Today, we’re helping this girl with homework; tomorrow she could be saving your life.
Two-hundred-ninety thousand dollars in 20 days is daunting.
I did some (real basic) math.
It would take 290 people donating $1,000 or 2,900 hundred people donating $100 or 29,000 people donating $10 or 58,000 people donating $5 to meet the goal.
There’s a cost to donating, sure. There’s also a long-term cost to not donating. When we choose not to invest in children, we are choosing not to invest in the future well-being of our communities. We will pay for that, too. Often with a bigger price tag.
I recognize that this is a shot in the dark. But you don’t get what you never ask for.
The children, parents, grandparents, Fanny, Kim and I- we’re all screaming into the void. We’re all asking for help.
We know there’s more good in the world than not.
We know someone will scream back, “count me in.”
To donate to KAPE, click the blue “donate” button on the Cornerstonesva.org website. In the space where it says “add comments or instructions” make sure to designate your donation to the “KAPE After School Program at the Herndon Neighborhood Resource Center.”