1 of 4
Photography by Kevin A. Roberts
Cedric Thomas and other clients help Deb LeMoine prepare a meal.
2 of 4
Photography by Kevin A. Roberts
3 of 4
Photography by Kevin A. Roberts
4 of 4
Photography by Kevin A. Roberts
A game of ping-pong can be a welcome break from life on the streets.
A group of teenagers chatters just inside the front door, all talking at once. Others crowd around a smart TV, watching a couple of boys duke it out in a video game, anime characters kicking and punching their way across the screen. Still more gather at a table in the corner, filling plates with sandwiches and salads. A few kids nap on couches, somehow able to sleep despite all of the action.
The scene at Epworth Children & Family Services’ new drop-in center in Normandy is chaotic. The cacophonous noise level eliminates the possibility of hearing what any one person is saying, but in sum, it’s a joyful racket, flecked with laughter.
Allison Lageose, the coordinator of Epworth’s Street Outreach Services, and Tara Ervin, the drop-in center supervisor, lead a tour. The center is open weekday afternoons, serving homeless and at-risk youth ages 11 through 21. A poster on the front desk lists rules: no fighting, no guns, no drugs. Clients check in when they arrive, and first-timers are asked to fill out an intake form. “We go over their needs, get a little personal information,” Ervin says. “Not too much information, because sometimes the youth can get overwhelmed with that.” If a kid needs somewhere to sleep, a case manager will start searching for a shelter placement.
Two showers and eight computer stations are all occupied. Youths edit résumés, apply for jobs, and of course, check Facebook. A staff member battles a teen in an intense ping-pong match, the ball screaming back and forth across the net. The air-hockey table is also occupied, one kid arguing that a goal by his opponent shouldn’t count because he was distracted.
We head past offices where youths can meet with their caseworkers and down a hallway, toward the kitchen. “This is our pride and joy,” Lageose says. The large kitchen is outfitted with modern appliances, and a long island in the center provides ample space for preparing meals. At a cooking class earlier, those in attendance learned to make a rare delicacy: Doritos-encrusted chicken strips, plus fruit dip.
Near the kitchen is a laundry room, with brand-new washers and dryers. Detergent and fabric softener are provided, as are laundry lessons, for those who aren’t sure how to adjust all those confusing dials. A storeroom holds nonperishable food items, toiletries, and clothing, including formal interview attire, all of which is available for free. Lageose takes the opportunity to make a pitch for donations. “You can see we’re a little low,” she says. “We’re always in need. We get large sizes, while most of the men we work with are smaller. Then different hair-care products, like picks and oils.”
Back out in the kitchen, we run into Taylor Johnson, who’s wearing an ear-to-ear smile. Today is her first as a member of the drop-in center staff. It’s a beginning, but also the culmination of a journey.
Johnson first came to Epworth years ago, as a client. She and her mother were homeless, and Johnson had a baby daughter of her own, Justice. She describes the services that she received as a teenager by using acronyms and shorthand, then decodes each term.
At age 14, she came to YES (Youth Emergency Service), Epworth’s 12-bed emergency shelter in University City, where she spent a couple of weeks. Two years later, having decided to leave her birth mother and enter the foster system, she joined the TLP (Transitional Living Program). Clients live in an apartment building in U. City, where caseworkers check in daily, giving advice on budgeting, cooking, shopping… From there, Johnson graduated to the ILP (Independent Living Program), through which she was given her own apartment in the community. She then participated in Aging Out, a program that helps youth transition from foster care to independent adulthood.
“It was a great support for me,” Johnson says of Epworth’s various programs. As for the drop-in center, she says, “I think it gives them a great break away from their reality, being out on the streets and things. It gives them a nice, safe place to come and have a meal and connect and just kind of relax.”
***
Epworth was founded in 1864 to care for children orphaned by the Civil War or cholera. Today, the organization offers a whole menu of services. On July 20, it held a 150th birthday party at its Webster Groves residential facility, which houses youth with emotional and behavioral problems. On a sunny afternoon, guests sipped lemonade and ate ice cream, while children played in a bounce house and shot hoops.
“The work we were doing then and the work we’re doing now is the same thing,” says Shannon Grass, Epworth’s chief development officer. “We’re just taking care of kids. We’re helping them find a way to be successful in the world. It looks different now, but the core reason for Epworth’s existence has been the same for 150 years.”
Opened this spring, the $1.7 million drop-in center replaces a cramped facility on the Delmar Loop. The renovated building that houses it is named for Carleen Goddard-Mazur, a socialite who bequeathed millions to agencies that serve children in foster care.
The new center’s location in North County is no accident. “We found that the large majority of the population that needed this type of work were coming from a more northern ZIP-code range,” Grass says. “We could get a lot of space in close proximity to public transportation, in close proximity to the people we’re serving.”
On an average day, about 40 youths use the drop-in center. Some come from Epworth’s other programs, especially the emergency shelter. Many are picked up by Street Outreach Services’ teams, which do daily sweeps downtown and in area parks, looking for kids with nowhere to go. Outreach workers also occasionally set up resource tables at lunchtime at schools in the Normandy Schools Collaborative.
“We just tell them about what homelessness looks like, what our services are,” Lageose says. Embarrassment might prevent some teens in need from admitting to homelessness in front of the lunchroom, so in future years, Lageose hopes to install a contact person in each school, someone in whom students could confide.
The problem is severe. The Normandy Schools Collaborative was nearly bankrupted by the controversial school-transfer law and is now under state control. District data shows that 31 percent of students’ families are functionally homeless, living on the streets or couch-surfing. You read that correctly: Nearly one-third of the families are homeless.
This spring, we asked Missouri Commissioner of Education Chris Nicastro how to save failing urban schools. The biggest priority, she said, is wraparound services. “That means that you may have to deal with all kinds of obstacles that have nothing to do directly with teaching and learning,” she said. “If a kid comes to school hungry, they’ve got to eat. If their clothes are dirty, you need to get them clean clothes.” Paying attention in math class is difficult enough for kids who aren’t worried about where they’re going to sleep.
The drop-in center is at least a small step toward meeting those basic needs. And in addition to receiving a meal and a shower, clients can be paired with a case manager, who provides the guidance and support that some adolescents aren’t getting from family. “It really turns into more than just case management,” Lageose says. “So when they graduate high school, they’re calling their case manager. They get a job, they call the case manager to let them know, to share in those successes.”
***
In the kitchen, Deb LeMoine stirs refried beans into a skillet of cooked chicken cubes, the makings of tacos, one of the kids’ favorites. An attorney and pastor, she started volunteering at Epworth a couple of years ago. “When my daughter went to college, my husband told me if I didn’t find some other people to cook for, I was going to make us all fat,” she jokes.
She comes to the drop-in center at least once a week to cook a hot meal with the youth, getting them involved in the process. They call these days Tasty Tuesday and Hot Food Friday. Children who grow up in foster care or other institutional settings often lack basic life skills, like knowing how to buy groceries. When LeMoine made guacamole, for example, none of the kids guessed that it came from an avocado. “It’s a combination of making sure nobody is hungry that day but also teaching some life skills,” she says.
Learning to cook, as opposed to buying fast food, can benefit teens’ economic situation and health. And it gives them hope. “It’s a vote of confidence that you’re going to need to know how to cook for yourself, because you’re going to end up with an apartment,” LeMoine says. “I think that little bit of hope nourishes them, maybe as much as the actual food.”
In additional to culinary instruction, the drop-in center hosts a number of classes. Staff members lead workshops about etiquette and money management. Once a month, attorneys help youth with legal issues.
Today, a woman from Planned Parenthood is here for a session on STD testing and safer sex. As in a typical 10th-grade health class, half of the students are engaged, half seem bored, and everyone is uncomfortable talking about sex. When the teacher mentions that she has condoms to pass out, an embarrassed girl exclaims, “I knew that was going to happen!”
Afterward, I sit down with 21-year-old Cedric Thomas. He bounced around a lot as a kid, going from the South Side to the North Side and back, before ending up on the streets. He started coming to the drop-in center to eat and to use the computer. When a caseworker approached him, Thomas initially demurred. But the staff member was persistent, asking again and again. Finally, Thomas agreed to accept help. “As soon as I got into the program,” he says, “a lot of achievements happened.”
The caseworker connected him to a vocational-rehabilitation program, which eventually placed him in a job at Goodwill. He comes to the drop-in center in his uniform, then heads to work after lunch. Now, he’s looking for a second job. Out by the ping-pong table, a bulletin board lists openings. A poster advertises a grocery-store job fair.
Thomas hopes to get a job working security at one of the stadiums downtown. He’s also received legal and financial advice. Now he’s saving money in an IDA. What does that acronym stand for? Thomas can’t remember, but a girl chimes in from across the room: It’s an individual development account. Thanks to his steady job, Thomas was eligible for a housing program through St. Patrick Center. One opportunity has led to the next.
“At first, I was wanting to give up on everything,” he says. “But now I see that as long as I pray and stay faithful in my religion, miracles happen. I thought I would be still sleeping on park benches right now, but as long as I stay focused, a lot of things can happen to me.” Thomas says that once his own life settles down, he’d like to return to the drop-in center to help, maybe donate some extra clothing.
He recommends the drop-in center to people he meets on the street. “If you’re trying to find a job or you’re out here hungry, you need somewhere to stay, they help you with all that,” he says. “It can be better.”
***
The drop-in center hosts an open house on September 12 from 8 to 11 a.m. Visit epworth.org for details about the event and volunteer opportunities.
