A bit of logistic overview to illustrate my position within AmeriCorps:
AmeriCorps > Sub-Program > Placement Organization/Nonprofit > Me!
My sub-program is an organization that has about 15 or so small groups in cities across the country. It’s education-based, so all the AmeriCorps members are placed in various teaching/tutoring/mentoring scenarios — whether it’s adult literacy, ESL, after school programs, charter schools… the works. My Washington, DC sub-program has about a dozen members placed throughout the city.
Two other members in my group have been assigned to the same Placement Organization as me. But after reporting for our first day, it seems that two of us are going to be moved to other sites within the city. I’ve worked with the secondary-aged population, so I’m staying at the teen center. I have no idea where my “colleagues” are going, but the majority of the other after-school programs in this organization are for “little kids.” So, bye guys.
This development is a little disconcerting to me. The woman I’d met over the summer who ran the program is no longer here. Things seem pretty disorganized at the moment, and I still haven’t been told exactly what I’m supposed to be doing. Or will be doing. Also, not having two other AmeriCorps people here means my support network just vanished. Sure, they’ll be around at other sites, but I’m not naive enough to think this year is going to be easy.
So, more about the site.
The Center, which is my generic name for this place’s much longer and formal name, is located within a housing complex, in what would not be described as a four-star neighborhood. According to a DC demographics site, this is the poorest area in all of DC west of the Anacostia River. 31% of children live in poverty in this general vicinity. It’s not the worst; there are some other areas of Southeast that climb as high as 55%. But compare that to areas of Northwest that have rates as low as .0001%. It’s hard to believe, looking at this place, that it could be worse. It features a liberal amount of the big three: unemployment, crime, drugs. Not all the youth who are in the program live in this housing complex. Some are from around the neighborhood, and few come from further out. The complex itself is supposedly mixed-income; based on what I’ve seen, though, I’m not sure how accurate that claim is at this point.
Anyway, the Center is home to a new after-school teen program that’s way beyond babysitting. And when I say “new,” I mean that this is the first year it’s strictly for teenagers. In years past, they had younger kids as well as a few older ones, but The Powers That Be have worked out a system with the other program, located over a building and up a floor, to separate the two groups. Teens with us, younger ones “Upstairs” (my generic name for that program).
The first couple hours are devoted to homework help, reading enrichment, or other academic activities. There’s a really fine line that will need to be constantly tweaked: if this place is too much like school, no teenager in his right mind would show up. But its purpose is not as a “drop in center.” This is supposed to have an academic focus. We just don’t want to make it school. Talk about hard.
Later in the evening, the program offers structured courses that vary by the day of the week: Photography, life skills, civics, media literacy, music, etc. There is a state-of-the-art music studio and real, professional recording equipment. The only catch is the music made there must have lyrics to help the world, not hurt it. Ok, then.
I already made my first mistake. It was stupid, really. I am never going to get anywhere with these kids if I show up looking like Miss Banana Republic. Well, it wasn’t that bad, but I’m just used to dressing like a teacher when I’m teaching. Makes sense, yeah? Not here. In my first set of ethnographic notes, my researcher side has deemed I need to blend in with my population more. And by “blend in” I mean, not give them any more reason to chalk me up to a parole officer. I’ll start by wearing jeans.
Apparently I’ll have a lot of time to think about my wardrobe. Our partnering nonprofit has wrangled its three AmeriCorps members into conducting its annual reading assessment tests at all of the DC sites. Which means we’ll be spending the next four weeks traipsing from ‘hood to ‘hood torturing these unsuspecting children with our bubblesheets. Here we go.