Occasionally we collaborate with an organization called Youth Communication to feature true stories by young people that help add a new voice or angle to a topic we've covered on the blog. So when the group - which publishes a magazine that is by and for young people in foster care in New York City - mentioned to us that May is National Foster Care Month and that five members of the magazine's staff, ranging in age from 18 to 22, became homeless in the last year, we thought it was a fitting time to post something on the topic. Below, a short introduction by the Youth Communication staff; an essay by a student, Zakkiaya Bowen, about her experiences after leaving foster care; and finally, some questions for classroom discussion about both Ms. Bowen's piece and related Times reporting. As always, please preview the post to decide if it is appropriate for your students. Talking About Foster Care and Youth Homelessness in the Classroom By Virginia Vitzthum, editor, Represent magazine and Maria Luisa Tucker, program director and multimedia editor at Youth Communication Foster care is a tricky thing to talk about in a classroom. You may well have foster youth in your class and not know it. Though the reasons for going into foster care are seldom the child's fault, there is a primal shame around not having a family. In fact, that's how Represent, Youth Communication's magazine by and for youth in care, came into existence. By the early 1990s, the city's foster care population had skyrocketed to 49,000, and those children began flooding our offices at Youth Communication, where we published a magazine written by New York City high school students since 1980. The youth in care had stories to tell, but they hid them; so great was the stigma of being abandoned or unwanted. So in 1993, we started Represent. The platform was a safe space for our young reporters to write honestly about the foster care system and how they got there. Though the foster care population has decreased since then, in the past year, a new disturbing thing happened to the teenage and young adult writers at Represent. Five of them became homeless. They wrote about their struggles, including with the stigma of homelessness, for our spring issue. Here is one of their stories. Read about how Zakkiaya Bowen went from foster care to homelessness, then consider discussing the issues the piece raises with your students, and invite them to post a comment below. Sliding Into Homelessness By Zakkiaya Bowen I am 21 years old and a full-time student at LaGuardia Community College, working toward a degree in writing and literature. I am a writer for Represent magazine and I work as a research analyst for an international company. I sound like I've got it all figured it out, right? Well, I kind of do, but I'm still homeless. Here's how it happened. As I neared my 21st birthday, I was living in a group home, starting college, and didn't have a job. So my two best post-foster-care housing options were the New York City Housing Authority and New York/New York III. The housing authority is a program (also known as "the projects") that allows you to pay 30 percent of your income, no matter what it is, for rent. New York/New York III is "supportive housing," that includes furnished apartments with caseworkers and social workers in the building to help residents with practical and emotional needs. New York/New York III is available to nine categories of people in New York City, including people who are mentally ill, suffer from substance abuse, living with H.I.V. or AIDS, and youth aging out of foster care up to age 26. Three months before my 21st birthday, I applied to the housing authority but they closed my case because I didn't have a job and I couldn't pay my share of the rent. I was supposed to be receiving Social Security Supplemental Security Income, or S.S.I., because I have a condition called short bowel syndrome that requires me to go to the hospital fairly often. I showed a letter from my caseworker saying I would be getting S.S.I., but I never did get it, so the housing authority took me off the list. I later got a job, but I couldn't reapply for another six months. I also applied for an apartment through New York/New York III one month before my 21st birthday. I got accepted and all I was doing was waiting for the landlord to call to tell me when I could move in. The director of the program told me it could be a day or a month or longer, depending on when someone moved out. I figured I was set, because I had two options. The Same Mistake Twice But when I turned 21, a spot hadn't opened up with New York/New York III. So my agency sent me to live with my mother even though I did not belong at my mother's house. I hadn't lived with my mom since I was 15 and she'd put me in foster care when I was 17. My mother agreed that I could stay with her temporarily as long as I paid the monthly cable TV/Internet/phone bill and contributed some food as well. Things were all right at my mother's for the first month. I got a job as a research analyst, conducting surveys over the phone. I made $7.25 an hour and worked about 30 hours a week, so after taxes were taken out I brought home less than $200 a week. Because we didn't know when I'd get into the New York/New York III program, my mother helped me look for a room to rent and found one nearby in the Bronx. I checked out the apartment, and I loved it. I planned to save up from my salary for the security deposit and first month's rent, but my mother harassed me for the $152 cable bill, even though I was never in the house and only watched television for about four hours during the month. She constantly asked me when I got paid, and how much I got paid, and it made me upset. The television that I had to pay for was on all the time, even when I got home from work at 1 or 2 a.m., and still on when I left at 6:30 a.m. for school. I was bringing food into the house, but still it was a constant money issue with her and that kept me from being able to take the apartment. My mother was also calling me messy. I was sleeping in the living room, and there was no place to put my clothes away. Finally, she kicked me out, and I went to my brother's house. He'd just been fired, though, so I only stayed with him for two nights. I then moved in with a friend of mine. Her mother wanted me to pay her $200 a month, but when it came time, I didn't have that much after paying for my MetroCard, food and other necessary items. Abandoned I went back to my mom's, but then she said I could only sleep there on weekdays. On weekends, I had to find somewhere else to sleep. So that first weekend, I decided to sleep on the subway, riding several train lines from end to end. I had to work that weekend, so I tried to figure out where I could take a shower. I felt abandoned and like no one loved me. I did not want to tell my three best friends because I didn't want them to worry, so I just ate my feelings and wrote in my notebooks about my experience. When you turn 21, you are on your own. Not having a place to sleep creates suicidal thoughts. What if you cannot handle sleeping on trains or buses or in the streets? I didn't want to be looked down on. I started sleeping on the trains because I didn't want to deal with anyone else. I found out the reason I was forced to ride trains all weekend was so that my mother could have her former boyfriend stay with her. I never went back to her house after that. One of my friends began worrying about me and found a place for me to stay with a friend's mom. The girl's mother asked me to pay $25 a week to stay. I thought I could swing that, but then the mother said I could no longer stay because she didn't like her daughter having to let me out the door in the morning and stay up late to answer it at night. In addition, my friend's grandfather said he didn't want me there because of my sexual orientation (I'm an out lesbian). I was only there five days. Into a Shelter I packed up everything I could and went to The Door, a drop-in center that helps youth who are in care, aged out, or homeless, who need a place to hang out and feel safe. I told them I was homeless and they referred me to a couple of shelters and programs. I had more options than most because I had a job and was going to college. 22, I spent my first night in a homeless shelter, a women-only place in the Bronx. I saw a metal detector, security guards, and an office for signing in. There were four floors, and on each floor were several dormitories. Each big dorm room holds about 20 beds, with a locker next to each bed. There's a gymnasium, library, laundry room, basketball court, bathroom, and cafeteria on one floor. The hallways are narrow and long, with security on each floor making sure the women are in their beds, monitoring what beds were open and were taken, and breaking up fights or other disturbances. Bathrooms have tissue all over the floors, and the shower curtains look like half-sheets. Hypodermic needles lie on the floor of the shower. The shelter serves breakfast from 6:30 to 7:30 a.m.; lunch is from noon to 1 p.m.; and dinner is from 5:30 to 6:30 p.m. They do bed checks every night at 10 p.m. If you are not in your bed by that time you lose it to the next person checking in. The only way you can come after that hour and not lose your bed is if you have a late pass. I got a late pass because my job doesn't end until 11 p.m. Everyone entering the shelter system has to get a tuberculosis test and a psychological exam. Everybody is assigned a caseworker when they come into the shelter. They help you find ways to progress and get you longer-term housing. Franklin is an assessment shelter and you can only stay for 21 days, though some people can stay for longer in special circumstances. Dog-Eat-Dog World The residents told me, "They will take things out of your pockets while you're sleeping." So, the first night, I slept with nothing in my pockets and a pen in my hand in case I needed it as a weapon. The fact that shelter staff woke me up at 6 a.m. and served breakfast at 6:30 a.m. helped me get to psychology class on time, so that was good. My late pass meant I always had a bed when I went back there. I really didn't have emotion when I got there. I just kept reminding myself that it was a bed and a shower. People did yell all hours of the night, and fought almost every night. There was a four-person fight one night over a phone charger. People will steal your underwear, your jackets, anything. It's a dog-eat-dog world and I got a full night of sleep only about half the time. Guys were out in front of the shelter in big cars, waiting to persuade girls to participate in sexual acts for money. I think those men know that women in the shelter have no money, no way of getting around, are alone, are on drugs, or have children. A lady in the shelter pointed out another lady who was a prostitute - she was outside every day around the same time in heels and makeup. She would get into a car, disappear and then come back, on a schedule. Some of the guys out front and some of the females in the shelter were dealing drugs to support themselves. Women were even selling women: Lesbian couples and aggressive lesbians were selling straight and gay women. Because I am working, after 18 days I was transferred to a better shelter, also in the Bronx. I had heard it was horrible, but I like it. The front looks like an institution, but inside, the doors have a doorknobs, keyholes, a doorbell, a peephole, and a number, just like an apartment. The rooms are smaller, with only three people living in them and you can bring food and drinks in. I can stay here until I find an apartment. The shelter workers still help with housing, saving money, jobs, and everything else. I like my roommate and it's not that bad, but I would like more freedom. The shelter takes half of your paycheck, and gives it back when you leave, to put toward permanent housing. As if we can't save money for ourselves. Now, I'm looking for an apartment on Craigslist and I'm also exploring faraway colleges. I recently got my learner's permit and will soon get a driver's license in preparation to live somewhere else. I've always wanted to go away to school; I've lived in New York City my whole life, and I'd like a change. I'd like a new life. Pairing Ms. Bowen's Story With Times Resources on Youth Foster Care and Homelessness Because there may be young people in your classroom who have experienced homelessness or foster care, you might simply invite your students to read Ms. Bowen's piece alone, or alongside this 2010 Times article on youth in foster care or this piece from last year on youth homelessness, then ask them to post their thoughts below. Please remind students that our privacy policy means they cannot post their last names. If you choose to do more, here is some background information and suggested discussion questions: Foster Care: Nationwide, more than 400,000 young people live in foster care. They are removed from their homes when the courts determine that they've been abused or neglected by their parents, or when poverty, death, illness or other circumstances prevent their biological parents from properly caring for them. Although the government must provide foster children with basic needs, all those benefits end with a birthday. In the United States, the age at which foster youth "age out," that is, stop receiving benefits from the state, varies from 18 to 21. And that's often when foster care youth start seriously falling behind. This Times article makes it clear that youth in foster care do worse across many measures than other youth: Only half the youths who had turned 18 and "aged out" of foster care were employed by their mid-20s. Six in 10 men had been convicted of a crime, and three in four women, many of them with children of their own, were receiving some form of public assistance. Only six in 100 had completed even a community college degree. Youth Homelessness: In addition, because of the lingering effects of the recession, more young adults are living on the street in general. As the article by Susan Saulny begins: Duane Taylor was studying the humanities in community college and living in his own place when he lost his job in a round of layoffs. Then he found, and lost, a second job. And a third. Now, with what he calls "lowered standards" and a tenuous new position at a Jack in the Box restaurant, Mr. Taylor, 24, does not make enough to rent an apartment or share one. He sleeps on a mat in a homeless shelter, except when his sister lets him crash on her couch. Discussion Questions: The following draw on Ms. Bowen's piece, the 2010 article about youth in foster care, and the article from last year about youth homelessness: What is your reaction to Ms. Bowen's story? What parts of it stood out for you? What questions does her essay raise for you? Where might you find answers? What would you like to say to Ms. Bowen if you could? What do the essay and these two Times articles tell you about the importance, and the limits, of the current social safety net? Who, according to this article, are the "two groups that need more sweeping and lasting help" from a social safety net? How might a mistake made by someone in these vulnerable groups be "life-altering"? What is "Connected by 25″ and how did it help Cameron Anderson? Why, according to the article on youth homelessness, is the problem "mostly invisible"? What obstacles stand in the way of these young people getting steady work and a place to live? Do any lines from these pieces seem to echo or somehow "speak to" each other? How do you feel about the social safety net? In general, do you think people who get government help are sometimes "moochers" who don't really need it, or do you think most are deserving beneficiaries with no other place to turn? What can someone your age do about these problems? How can you help? See the resources below for ideas. Related Resources: Ms. Bowen's essay is reprinted with permission from Youth Communication.