NeighborScapes

When I was fourteen, I had my first “job.” My mom was volunteering at a school in Richton Park, teaching behind-the-curve first graders to read. Most of them had already memorized the four books the classroom had, and could figure out the story line by pictures. They needed new content. So, after school every day, I would write simple letters with short words to these five students. Writing back to me was not a classroom requirement, but the incentive of receiving a letter from a pen pal was enough to get them to write back to me more often than they’d turn in their (required) homework. And every day, my mom and her student would read through the last few letters that we had written back and forth- and, if there was a new one, the student would very excitedly open the decorated envelope and tackle the new content.

Of these five, Jawan stands out particularly. While the others would write back to me maybe once a week, Jawan would send very short letters every day, and pack content into those letters. I could tell that receiving mail from somebody really made a difference in his life. We must have exchanged a good fifteen letters a month, which was impressive, since they were written outside of class time but during the school day; he was writing them during his lunch hour or recess or free class time. And he was puzzling through the letters when my mom wasn’t around to remind him of the tricky words. It may be my memory and the nostalgia playing in, but I think his vocabulary grew, too, for the few months I worked with him.

Mid-March, he disappeared. We still don’t know what happened to him; he just stopped showing up to class one day. My mom and I frantically combed the news, but the teacher and principal said that, when a young, very poor, low-skills Black boy stops showing up to class one day, nobody thinks much of it; he’s moved, or started going to school with a relative, or something.

I don’t know if the school ever tracked him down, or if he ever returned. I had bonded to this child, and was badly shaken by his abrupt disappearance and by the way the district took it in stride. I finished up the year with the rest of the students, and then switched to frequent but not sustained one-off  volunteering through a local youth group instead.

By the time I was eighteen, I was back in the classroom, again, this time through my college. Twelve hours a week, I was providing support to a crowded Bronzeville classroom, either in helping students concentrate from across a sea of heads, or taking individuals or small groups out into the hallway to catch up on remedial skills. I must have spent upwards of sixty hours teaching Kendra the differences between b, d, p and q, which, let me tell you, was NOT made easier by the rhyming of the first three of those. Seven months later, Kendra had about an 80% understanding that letters have shapes, names, and sounds, and that you need to know all three to make and read words- but that, once you do know how to make a word, it’s really easy to make lots of other words by just changing one letter. It was a stressful job, and a frustrating job, but it was a fun job, and a fulfilling job, and I returned to the program my second year, to be placed at a different school.

I was nominally placed to teach fourth graders how to write stories. I wound up in a first grade class, again teaching remedial students basic shapes, colors and letters. I spent nearly every day working with Angel. I say “nearly” because Angel was missing from class about one day of every five. Angel was widely picked on by her classmates, and would respond by hitting or biting them, then be punished by the school, resulting in a note home. The next day, she would stay home, and the day after, she would come back with a note that she had been sick. The teacher and I suspected that something was up, but we guessed Angel’s mom, who tended to be a strict disciplinarian, either kept Angel home as punishment or to give her some time to cool off and give her classmates some time to forget. It didn’t work, of course; the classmates considered Angel somewhat wild and continued to pick on her, and Angel continued to respond the only way she knew how.

I found Angel to be a sweet girl who sincerely wanted to learn. She was a shrewd negotiator for candy or treats, and my barter system to teach her to trade correct flash cards for treats or toys was constantly under assault from her attempts to leverage more rewards per card. She was a cuddle junkie and had absolutely no problem drawing me picture books and telling me stories to go with the pictures.

Early April, Angel, too, disappeared. She left on the day after a fight, so teacher and I expected her back two days later, but she failed to show up. The teacher, too, assumed Angel had transferred to a different, maybe better, school. While I was again devastated by our inability to follow up and find her, it didn’t hit as hard as the first time, and I continued to work.

Angel came back a month and a half later, with trips of taking a sailboat out to sea. She stayed with the classroom the rest of the year.

Last year, I met Tamara. Tamara was an enthusiastic, together woman who was also doing a year of service, while taking care of her son, maintaining her house, and looking at continuing in her line of work after the service program was over. We became instant, and good, friends, played off each others’ ideas for improving the program, ourselves and each other, and assisted each other’s job searches as much as we could. Even though our work sites were a good forty-five minutes away from each other’s, we would make time at least once or twice a month to have dinner together and make plans. But in February, Tamara’s expenses became far higher than her income, and she stopped being able to do things like get to work and continue to be paid, or keep her son in day care while she worked. Her job relied on her ability to be on site and not have a five-year-old on site, so the goodwill she built up by being a stellar employee was quickly squandered by her inability to be a stellar employee when she had no resources to assist her, and she failed to complete her year of service. She was missing from my sight, her supervisor’s sight, and her colleagues’ site for months at a time, and when she came back, it became a regular thing that I would do a month’s worth of laundry and dishes for her, clean her house, feed her son, and negotiate her back to work. Her car eventually died, and that’s when she dropped out of my life.

Megan is eighteen. She comes and goes from NeighborScapes. She has no car and her housing isn’t always stable, so she works enthusiastically when she’s back but is gone for long stretches of time. She’s trying hard to find a sustainable job, move out of her parents’ house, while still making responsible decisions about her personal life, her education, and her career. She’s by far one of the most responsible eighteen-year-olds I’ve ever met, fighting hard to be an adult when she has almost no resources to make the process any easier.

There’s a lot of talk around my operations through NeighborScapes about cradle through college covenants of care, of forever narratives, of being reliable and constant. It’s painful and confusing and frustrating to invest in someone, while always remembering that they can disappear from your life and you may never be able to follow up or find out what happened to them. It’s incredibly difficult to structure a continuum of care, from teaching Angel her colors and letters to teaching Kendra her alphabet to teaching Jawan to read, while also providing a good first job for Megan and supporting Tamara as she gets a job that can support her, her home, and her son- while also planning for large pockets of time in which Tamara has no car, in which Angel has disappeared, and also planning for the possibility that Jawan will disappear and not come back.

But this source of stability may be one of few sources of stability in their lives. Tamara knows she can rely on me to cheer her up, pick her up, loan her a pair of boots long enough that she can get a grasp on her bootstraps. We do not give up on Kendras that simply cannot understand alphabets. We do not give up on Angels who don’t understand peaceful conflict resolution. And we don’t give up on CLCs that have made mistakes in their lives, or don’t know routes to good jobs, or who need guidance and support.

Megan called me today. She’s back in town, and is looking for work. I have sustainable housing to offer her, as well as some leads to jobs that will put the housing within her income range and that she can access by public transportation. That’s what I do; I connect people to resources and provide follow-up, sustained care and support until Jawan is reading, until Megan is working, until Tamara has a career.

Welcome back, Megan. And Jawan, if you’re reading this, look me up. I still owe you a letter. You’d be about nineteen by now.

Chris Furuya is the program coordinator for NeighborScapes, a volunteering, community organizing, and civic leadership nonprofit located in the South suburbs of Chicago. Her twitter handle is earthangelNS.

The eleventh hour has come. One of our site supervisors, frustrated at the level of resources we were working with and the dynamics of camp interaction, has left us. Our communications system in the office is routinely down, frustrating parents who need to be in contact with someone at the home office. Our line of credit is nearly spent, and we’re relying on donations to make payroll for our Civic Leadership Corps, rather than buy something enduring for the organization, a sure sign that we’re facing troubled times. Our CLCs are telling us that they need more substantive work- and I’m empathizing with them. I don’t know what it’s like to be hungry the way they do, but I know what it’s like to constantly worry about making rent, and to put in my tank only as much gas as I need to, to not fill it up when I can’t afford to.

I’ve seen businesses fold and I’ve seen friends go homeless.

But that will not happen to us.

Our 501(c)3 letter came in the mail today. This is an enormous step in the growth of the organization. While donations to NeighborScapes have previously been tax-deductible by virtue of our relationship to GoodCity, the presence of our own 501(c)3 is like the presence of our own driver’s license. We’re sixteen and not adults yet, but damn, it feels good to drive.

Monday, we will be bolstered by four highly educated, highly skilled volunteers, interns, and mission-driven people working for us for little to no pay. One of them is a microfinance guru with experience leveraging minimal dollars to prompt maximum growth. One of them is a master at personal outreach, excellent at talking to people and communicating the NeighborScapes mission and goals. One of them is a veteran of Snell-Hitchcock’s Scav Hunt team, undefeated in four years at leveraging unusual items or skills from invested communities; she, specifically, is charged with ensuring full compliance with a List of items to be obtained, while assisting in liasoning with staff. And one is a serene, sweet girl who believes in the NeighborScapes mission and wants to help out. They are joined by two other, younger volunteers, who are familiar with the Wacker Park and Rich Central area and want to assist in growing the organization.

The Youth and Summer Jobs Bill has made it to Congress, but it hasn’t passed yet. I’m a bit superstitious about naming the baby before it’s born, but if you could call your Congresspeople and ask them to support the Closing Tax Loopholes Bill, we’d really appreciate it. Doesn’t matter where in the contiguous US you are, call them. (If you’re not in the contiguous US, but any of your contacts are, tell them to call THEIR Congresspeople.)

We’ve passed out a lot of fliers. We’ve measured a lot of windows. We’ve scrubbed toilets, we’ve filed things and licked envelopes and built furniture and kept a schitzophrenic internet line going.

We’ve talked to Mayors. We’ve talked to Legislators. We’ve talked to the heads of nonprofits, major for-profit corporate social responsibility representatives, principals, superintendants.

We are exhausted, and we are now delirious with hunger. But I’m starting to smell bread.

Chris Furuya is the program coordinator for NeighborScapes, a volunteering, community organizing, and civic leadership nonprofit located in the South suburbs of Chicago. Her twitter handle is earthangelNS.

As the program coordinator of NeighborScapes’s Civic Leadership Corps for low-income youth from 14 to 24 years old, and as an AmeriCorps VISTA about to complete her year-long term, I’ve been talking- and hearing- a lot about volunteering lately. The arguments for volunteering are many and well-known- it makes you feel good, it’s needed, it’s a way to give back to the community. The arguments against it appear much more pragmatic, especially in a recession- time is expensive, the volunteers I work with are often students or of low income, and we just can’t afford to give something away for nothing. We, as a bloc, are much more comfortable spending low-value time in minimum-wage jobs that pay at least something, than in volunteering, which continues to carry the stigma of mundane work.
 
I agree that, in this economy, it is incredibly expensive in terms of opportunity cost to give something, including time, away for nothing. But volunteering has something concrete, of high value, but little-discussed to offer you: networking opportunities, work experience, and the opportunity to sell yourself as a potential employee.
 
Volunteering is expensive, yes. But so is work. It costs me roughly $9 in transportation to get to and from work every day, not to mention initial sunk costs in briefcases and suits, the costs, such as laptop and car, that I share with work, or the enduring expense of a college education. I would not make these expenses if I did not know that I would bring home from work more than I spend to get there.
 
The same perspective that I use concerning money- that it’s okay to spend money to go to work, if I can earn much more than what I spend- applies to time. Forty hours a week is a significant bloc of my time, especially when the unpaid time spent commuting or preparing to go to work are considered. I would not give that time if the value that I expected to earn while at work was not greater than the value of the time I sacrificed. But notice that I use the word “value” and not “pay” here- I work partially for pay, but also because working is more interesting and socially acceptable than loafing, because working allows me opportunities to advance my career to more interesting, of-greater-status, and higher-paid opportunities in the future, and for a variety of other reasons. I’m comfortable spending this time because I know it’s not actually an expense but an investment.
 
So how does volunteering factor in to my understanding of the time-for-value trade? I continue to spend something of value- in this case, my time, as well as transportation costs. I deliberately forego being paid for that time, for now. In exchange, I capture something of value- be it marketable job skills, meaningful networking opportunities, or the opportunity to engage more fully in a community so that I can better represent it in a job interview.
 
Further, 80% of job opportunities are not posted on the Internet, leaving 80% of us applying for 20% of jobs. Companies would rather hire someone that they know than make the expense and take the risk of hiring a complete stranger. To many, this translates to the value of having well-connected friends who are willing to give you a foot in the door. However, 52% of Americans work in small businesses, and 9.5% work in nonprofits, and for these jobs, the “someone you already know” reality translates to a door that is permanently left open far enough for you to fit your foot in, given an initial investment.
 
A case study: Monica M has a job, but is ambitious and wants to be hired at a better one. She offers to take on increasing responsibility at her company, works later hours, takes a bigger workload. She becomes the go-to person for various projects, and is assertive but not arrogant in her interactions with her supervisor and co-workers. Her supervisor acknowledges this and offers her a promotion or pay raise.
 
A second case study: Rebecca H is new to an area and wants to find a job, particularly in development at a nonprofit. She begins by volunteering at Charity A. Charity A initially has her stuffing envelopes, but she offers to make solicitation calls and staff special events, then gets so good at this that she starts to help plan the special events and train others in giving the solicitation calls. She approaches the head of the development department of Charity A and asks for a job, but Charity A is getting something for nothing and declines. However, Charity A collaborates with Charity B, who is increasingly impressed with Rebecca’s performance; they mistake her for a staff member, since she has so much responsibility within Charity A. Rebecca expresses an interest in working for Charity B, who asks her to name a pay rate.
 
A third: Kevin B is a student and wants to be an entrepreneur of a small business. He knows that the business world works differently within academia than it does outside of it, so he seeks out an internship based on job postings online, but most small businesses do not post internships online. Kevin then identifies several small businesses for which he would like to work, then asks for professional advice/guidance, refers clients, offers opportunities to the businesses, and becomes a frequent customer. The next time that business is hiring, it already knows and respects Kevin’s work ethic, and is more likely to hire him.
 
Companies use the “free samples” phenomenon frequently with their marketing. Free or dramatically discounted samples are sent out to new consumers, in the hope that the consumers will develop brand loyalty to that company and patronize them more often. Frequent buyer discounts increase already-present brand loyalty and encourage referrals. The initial sunk cost of a cup of Starbucks coffee is recouped by your continued presence at Starbucks every morning, your likelihood to buy a pastry with your coffee, and your increased likeliness to invite a friend to coffee at Starbucks if yours is free; the initial sunk cost of a free $80 cosmetics kit with a purchase of $20 of cosmetics at a department store is recouped in your newfound brand loyalty to the cosmetics counter that gave you the kit (Incidentally, Clinique and Bare Minerals are in fierce competition for my loyalty right now).
 
I know that my work is a high-value product that comes with excellent customer service. My dream small business or nonprofit may not know that, yet. However, offering “free samples” in the form of consulting, referrals, and volunteering as a way to high-value network, learn job skills, and engage in my community with intent can teach people about my value as an employee and persuade them to purchase my time in a more enduring fashion.
 
Chris Furuya is the program coordinator for NeighborScapes, a volunteering, community organizing, and civic leadership nonprofit located in the South suburbs of Chicago. Her twitter handle is earthangelNS.