lessons - spring 2010 - when networks build a platform

LIFETIME

What Kids Can Do

ENLACE Florida

On the cover: Vincent Evans, 20, a senior at Florida A&M University, has his mind set on a careerin politics, in part because of his involvement with the student advocacy group ENLACE Florida.

14 Page2

Lessons: on the inside

Writing: Patricia L. Brennan Editing: David S. Powell Editorial assistance: Gloria Ackerson and Jeanna Keller

Photography: Pages 16 and 17: Greet Van Belle; Page 28: provided by ENLACE Florida;all other photos: Shawn Spence Photography

Design: IronGate Creative Printing: Mossberg & Company, Inc.

PRESIDENT’S MESSAGE

Networks can multiplythe power of change

Lumina Foundation Lessons is an occasional publica-tion in which we share the results of our grantees’work. By thoughtfully assessing the programs andorganizations we fund and then sharing what we learnfrom those efforts, we hope to broaden and deepen

the impact of Lumina’sgrant making. Also, wehope publications suchas this can help boostthe effectiveness of theorganizations and indi-viduals who do the

front-line work of increasing college access and success.That work is vital as we seek to achieve our Big Goal:that, by 2025, 60 percent of Americans will hold high-quality postsecondary degrees and credentials.

If you’re at all familiar with Lumina Foundation for Education, you know that weare committed to a specific national goal for college success. Our “Big Goal” is this:By 2025, we want 60 percent of Americans to hold high-quality postsecondarydegrees or credentials.Also, if you have any knowledge of current college-completion rates, you can see

that our Big Goal is aptly named. Today, only about 40 percent of Americans haveat least a two-year degree — a percentage that has been essentially unchanged fornearly half a century. We understand that it will be a huge challenge for the nationto reach a 60 percent completion rate in the next 15 years.Still, my Lumina colleagues and I are confident the Big Goal can be reached, in

part because we have seen the tremendous potential of collaborative action. Whenorganizations and individuals work in productive partnership — that is, when theyestablish and maintain effective networks — imposing barriers can be overcome andambitious goals achieved.For us, the term “network” has particular meaning. In

fact, largely as a result of our work in a national collegeawareness and action campaign called KnowHow2GO, wehave come to define networks in a specific way — and weask our KnowHow2GO grantees and partners to form net-works that fit that definition.For us, a strong and sustainable network for increasing

college access and success must be built on five dimensions:1. An infrastructure that enables members to identify and achieve a shared purpose.

2. Service system cohesion, improvement and sustainability.3. Data-based decision making about priorities, policies and practices.

4. Expertise in college access and success issues and advocacy for supportive public policies.5. Creation and dissemination of knowledge within the network and beyond.Already, such networks are leading the KnowHow2GO effort in 16 states. We’re

also working hard to establish networks in additional states by bringing togethercommunity-based pre-college advising programs; local education funds; collegesand universities; and existing programs such as TRIO, GEAR-UP and other univer-sity-based efforts.Of course, the KnowHow2GO campaign isn’t the only example of networks in

action. In fact, the principles of effective networks — principles articulated elo-quently by Paul Vandeventer, president and CEO of Community Partners, in hisbook Networks that Work — are being embraced by any number of Lumina granteesand partner organizations.This issue of Lumina Foundation Lessons magazine highlights three such organizations,

all of which are working tirelessly to promote college success among low-incomeand minority students.In this issue of Lessons, you’ll learn about the LIFETIME program, which assists

welfare mothers in their quest for college attainment in California. You’ll read aboutthe Providence, R.I.-based organization What Kids Can Do, which empowers stu-dents to tell their own stories as a means of boosting postsecondary success. Finally,in Florida, you’ll meet the organizers — and especially the students — who areinvolved in the policy-advocacy group ENLACE. We at Lumina are proud to support these organizations and to share the lessons

they have learned. After all, dissemination of knowledge is one of the hallmarks ofany successful network, and we certainly want our network — the one dedicated toachieving the Big Goal — to succeed.

Jamie P. MerisotisPresident and CEOLumina Foundation for Education

California’s LIFETIME program

A spark of activism

ignites huge changes for

welfare-to-work moms

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Diana Spatz’s motto for living is simple: You have to dream big.

Spatz knows firsthand the power of her affirmation. She’s been

dreaming big and thinking outside the box for most of her life.

Her story begins in 1986, when Spatz — pregnant, homeless and

suffering from depression — found the courage to break free from

an abusive relationship. To survive, she relied on public assistance

and took a minimum-wage job cleaning houses for $4.75 an hour.

Spatz, now 48, says the birth of her daughter inspired her to

build a better future. Armed with a newfound sense of purpose,

she set her sights on college.

That enthusiasm was almost derailed,however, when the county welfaredepartment sanctioned Spatz, essen-tially labeling her as a welfare cheat.She later learned that her caseworkerhad mistakenly counted a Pell grant aspart of her income. “Even though I was getting help

through Expanded Opportunity Pro-gram and Services, the Latino ServiceCenter and the Re-entry Program, noone seemed to know how the welfarerules applied to higher education. I waspretty much left on my own to figure itout,” Spatz says. A legal aid attorney helped Spatz win

her appeal, getting her welfare benefitsreinstated. But the experience leftSpatz frustrated. “I was close to quitting school. The

intersection of these two systems —higher education and welfare — didn’twork. Welfare mothers didn’t have theinformation, connections or resourcesthey needed,” Spatz says.

Grassroots beginningSpatz set out to help low-income sin-

gle mothers overcome the proceduralhurdles barring the way to higher edu-cation. She began organizing in theOakland area and on college campuses,creating fliers and holding workshopsto inform parents about their educationrights under welfare laws. It was aftershe received a scholarship to the Uni-versity of California-Berkeley — whereshe graduated with honors — thatLIFETIME was officially born.In 1996, LIFETIME (Low-Income

Families’ Empowerment through Educa-tion) was a fledgling organization thatSpatz ran out of her home. “Employees”consisted of five single mothers whohad completed college while on welfareand who now volunteered their time tohelp others do the same. Despite its small staff, LIFETIME had

lofty goals: To equip thousands of low-income parents with information andaccess to social networks so that theycould enter and complete college andescape poverty for good.With a service learning class she

developed at UC-Berkeley as a model,Spatz started training low-income parent-students on welfare laws and policy-

making. The goal was to build a localand state network of parent advocates —people who could speak out on welfarereform, provide personal testimony togovernment officials and, most impor-tant, become empowered to serve ascommunity leaders.“If you want to know what a poor

family needs, ask them. Parents need tobe at the table when policies abouttheir future are created,” Spatz says.“LIFETIME came together because agroup of welfare mothers were forcedto fight the system to become edu-cated. We got a second chance, and wewant to make sure others get their sec-ond chance as well.”Today, Spatz is a widely respected

advocate on welfare reform and poverty.

LIFETIME has grown from a grassrootsorganization into a movement of par-ent-student advocates who work tohelp welfare mothers share the messagethat higher education is their path toeconomic freedom.Every year, more than 2,000 parents

benefit directly from LIFETIME’s serv-ices. The group provides financial aidcounseling, peer mentoring, work-shops, a speakers’ bureau, and a StudentParent Action Network (SPAN) thatengages low-income parents and theirchildren in policy education and com-munity organizing.LIFETIME also maintains a statewide

Parent Leadership Committee, whichinvolves welfare parents in policy

discussions concerning the reauthoriza-tion of Temporary Assistance for NeedyFamilies (TANF) and its implementa-tion in California. Since 2001, morethan 400 student-parents — individualswho attend college while receivingbenefits from the California WorkOpportunities and Responsibility toKids (CalWORKs) program — havejoined the committee. In addition to awareness and out-

reach efforts, the group has testified atnumerous Congressional briefings, statehearings, and state and national confer-ences on issues of welfare reform, familypoverty and education. LIFETIME’s motivation to train wel-

fare mothers as policy advocates isrooted in the overhaul of the welfaresystem under President Bill Clinton.The Aid to Families with DependentChildren (AFDC) Act was replaced bythe 1996 Personal Responsibility andWork Opportunity Reconciliation Act(PRWORA). As part of PRWORA,Congress created the TANF blockgrant program.

New welfare rulesTANF created several new rules for

welfare, including: Mandatory work requirements. A 60-month federal lifetime limit on benefits, education and training programs.An emphasis on quickly moving fromwelfare to work.Limitations on participation in highereducation. Critics of TANF say the program has

created more barriers than opportuni-ties for recipients, especially withregard to college access and success.As originally implemented in 1997,TANF required 20 hours of work partic-ipation per week. By 2002, the requirednumber of hours had increased to 35.Postsecondary education was notspecifically listed as an allowable workactivity. It was up to the states to deter-mine the kinds of educational opportu-nities available to welfare participants.Spatz says most states allowed less thanone year of postsecondary educationbefore cutting benefits.TANF had an immediate chilling

effect on college participation among

“I was close to quitting school. Theintersection of thesetwo systems—higher

education and welfare—didn’t work.”

Diana Spatz, LIFETIME (Low-Income Families’

Empowerment through Education)


Continued on Page 8

LIFETIME founder Diana Spatz, a welfaremother herself in the late 1980s in Oakland,Calif., fought hard to attend college andwound up graduating with honors from UC-Berkeley. She now works to make sure thatother low-income single moms “get theirsecond chance” at a college education.

welfare recipients. According to aCenter for Law and Social Policy study,State Opportunities to Provide Access to Post-secondary Education under TANF, the num-ber of AFDC/TANF families reportingparticipation in postsecondary educa-tion or training fell from 172,176 in1996 to 58,055 in 1998. Studies in sev-eral states reflected similar findings.Enrollment of welfare recipients at theCity University of New York droppedby 77 percent — from 22,000 in 1996to 5,000 in 2000. And in Massachu-setts, welfare recipients’ enrollment inthe state’s 15 community collegesdropped by an average of 46 percentbetween 1995 and 1997, according to a2002 study by the Center for WomenPolicy Studies.Education and training are instru-

mental in improving individuals’ eco-nomic circumstances, particularlyamong low-income populations. Manywelfare recipients say TANF’s workrequirements make it difficult to bal-ance work, child care and school.Requirements vary by state, and somestates have stiffer requirements thanothers. In California, CalWORKsrequires 32 hours of weekly work orparticipation in “welfare to work” activi-ties for single parents and 35 hours fortwo-parent families. TANF is a federal program, but states

are responsible for designing theirTANF programs and determiningincome eligibility and benefit levels.While some states enacted model legis-lation and programs to promote accessto higher education and other educa-tion supports, most did not. Eventoday, many states limit postsecondaryeducation as an allowable work activityfor welfare recipients. Spatz argues that TANF should do

much more to invest in poor families.Among her suggestions:Temporarily stop the 60-month fed-eral lifetime limit on welfare paymentsfor college-bound recipients.Strengthen the focus on outcomes, such as education and career-path employment. Allow greater flexibility for countablework activities.Provide additional subsidies for child care and textbooks.

Continued from Page 6

Giving up is not an option for Dawn Love — even thoughshe’s had plenty of reasons to do just that. Love became a singleparent in 2000, after the father of her daughter was jailed. Withrent due and the bills piling up, Love says she did what she hadto do: She turned to welfare.“I was out of options,” Love explains. “I had a child to clothe

and feed and bills to pay.”“There are a lot of misperceptions about welfare,” says Love,

now 37. “People look at you and say you’re lazy, just collecting acheck from the government. But every story is a different situation.”Love had just enrolled in Chabot College, seeking the skills

she needed to make a better life for herself and her daughter. Shenow feared those plans were in jeopardy. Her welfare caseworker

couldn’t — or wouldn’t —help, Love says. She thenlearned about a workshopthat LIFETIME was con-ducting at a nearby Cal-WORKs office.Love attended the meet-

ing, which she now calls a“transformative moment”in her life.“My caseworker wasn’t

helping, and I didn’t knowwhere to turn. LIFETIMEshowed me how to navigate

the (welfare) system and get my questions answered,” says Love.Grateful for the help she got from LIFETIME, Love became

an intern for the organization in 2001 and later a peer advocate.Among her responsibilities, Love works with low-income parentsto educate them about welfare rules that allow them to pursuepostsecondary education and training as a welfare-to-work activity.“It’s sad, but some caseworkers simply don’t care,” she says.

“Their message is: ‘You shouldn’t go to school; you need to goto work.’ In other instances, parents don’t know the right ques-tions to ask about higher education,” Love says.Love reached her own higher education milestone in 2009, when

she earned an associate’s degree in human services. Next year,she plans to begin her bachelor’s degree in human development.Love is no longer on welfare. In addition to conducting workshops

for California community colleges and local organizations, she pro-vides one-on-one mentoring to welfare parents. The work is bothinformational and inspirational, and it’s become her “passion,” she says.“In my own life, I’ve come full circle. I have a learning disabil-

ity, and there were many, many times I wanted to give up. But Ididn’t. LIFETIME put me on the path to college. Today, I ampaying it forward,” Love says.

Once ‘out of options,’ex-welfare motheris now giving back


“There are a lot ofmisperceptions aboutwelfare...but everystory is a different

situation.”

LIFETIME peer advocate Dawn Love

Continued on Page 10

Dawn Love, a former welfare mom in Oakland, Calif., says her life has ”comefull circle.” In her work wih LIFETIME, shenow serves as a peer advocate, helpinglow-income parents pursue postsecondarytraining as a welfare-to-work activity.


Former welfare mom Melissa Johnson and daughter Brooklyn shared an important moment in 2008, when Johnsonaccepted her nursing degree from Woodland Community College. “It was important that my daughter was there,”Johnson recalls. “She’s the reason for my determination.”

“We were told that the issue of count-ing education as a welfare-to-workactivity was dead, that we were tooarticulate to be welfare moms. Thatdidn’t bode well for my idea of bringingparents together to create policies thatcould make a difference,” Spatz says.

Create partnerships between higher education and advocacy groups to inform welfare recipients about how to take advantage of postsecondary opportunities.“We believe that higher education

should be a priority and a requirement

for every state,” says Spatz. “Not anoption, but a requirement.”In 1997, LIFETIME took that message

to Sacramento, where the CaliforniaLegislature was developing its TANF/CalWORKs program. The meeting didnot go well, Spatz recalls.

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Undeterred, Spatz and several welfareparents returned to Sacramento severalweeks later. This time, the outcome wasin their favor. “What we won was the right to

count postsecondary education as awelfare-to-work activity, includingbachelor’s degrees and up to a mas-ter’s teaching credential,” Spatzexplains. “This enabled parents topursue higher education for theirentire five years on welfare, and toget B.A.s in nursing and teaching andother occupations that pay more thana subsistence wage.”The following year, in 1998, LIFE-

TIME launched a campaign focused ongetting homework and study time tocount as an allowable weekly workactivity. Again, LIFETIME’s advocacyefforts proved successful. The rulingwas adopted in federal regulationsunder the 2005 reauthorizationof TANF.“This campaign came about because

CalWORKs students were havingproblems meeting the 32-hour weeklywelfare work requirement,” Spatz says.“At the time, work requirements didn’tinclude unsupervised home and studytime, just study time in labs or super-vised settings. Well, most parents didtheir homework at night, after theirchildren were in bed.”LIFETIME’s lobbying efforts have

helped welfare recipients in everyCalifornia county gain additionalaccess to education and training oppor-tunities, as well as transportationsupport for CalWORKs parents in welfare-to-work activities.One of those who got help was

Melissa Johnson, a 33-year-old singlemother in Davis, Calif., who left anabusive marriage and became a Cal-WORKs recipient in 2002. With helpfrom LIFETIME, Johnson was able toretain her welfare benefits while sheattended Woodland Community Col-lege. She earned a nursing degree in2008 and now works in the cancerwing of UC-Davis Medical Center.(Read more about Melissa Johnson onthe Web: http://biggoal.org/gi94 This year, TANF is up for reauthor-

ization. On Feb. 25, 2010, LIFETIMEand coalitions from six states went to

Legislators and advocatestake a critical new lookat the TANF programAccording to a February 2010 Government Accountability Office

report, 1.7 million families were receiving TANF benefits in 2008,down significantly from the 4.8 million families who benefited fromAFDC in 1995. Declining poverty wasn’t the reason. A huge portion ofthis caseload decline — about 87 percent, according to the report —represented eligible families who chose not to participate in TANFbecause of the program’s work requirements, time limits, and sanc-tion and diversion policies.“Right now, Temporary Assistance for Needy Families does far too

little to actually help needy families,” said Rep. Jim McDermott(D-Wash.), chairman of the Subcommittee on Income Security andFamily Support, at a March 11 meeting on TANF. “When we talkabout TANF, we need to start by asking ourselves this question: ‘Dopoor children deserve our help as their parents struggle to find orprepare themselves for employment?’ I would imagine that most of us

would answer yes, and yet only 22percent of poor children receiveassistance from the TANF program. “Too many of the people who

trumpet the success of TANF areusing caseload reduction as theirmeasurement, not the number of people who rise out of poverty or who are able to find work,”McDermott added.A 2006 report from the Institute

for Women’s Policy Research detailsthe struggles of current and formerwelfare student-parents who tried

to attend college while receiving public assistance under CalWORKs.The report — created in collaboration with LIFETIME and titledResilient and Reaching for More: Benefits of Higher Education for Welfare Partici-pants and their Children — unveils several key findings:Most welfare recipients want to attend college but don’t know

how. Instead of learning about educational opportunities throughinstitutional channels, many got that information informally. Once welfare recipients are enrolled in college, they often cite

resistance from caseworkers. In fact, 54 percent of those surveyed saidtheir caseworkers were a hindrance to their college success.The positive effects of welfare recipients’ college enrollment extended

to their children’s education. Forty-two percent said their children’sstudy habits improved. Eighty-eight percent said college enhancedtheir ability to help their children reach their educational goals.“Our welfare system wasn’t set up to get people out of poverty,”

says LIFETIME founder Diana Spatz. “The goal was to reducecaseloads, promote low-wage work, reduce out-of-wedlock birthsand promote marriage. These are realities that we can change bychanging policy.”


“Our welfaresystem wasn’tset up to getpeople out of poverty.”

LIFETIME founder Diana Spatz


Washington, D.C., as part of a congres-sional briefing on TANF. Welfare momssuch as Wisconsin resident Angie Gricealso were there to speak about theirexperiences and make suggestions forreforming TANF.“I got pregnant at 16. I couldn’t stay in

school and raise my child,” Grice says.“I tried to apply for TANF but was deniedbecause of my age. When I turned 18, I was discouraged from going to collegefor more than two years because TANF(in Wisconsin) has a community serviceand job requirement of 25 work hoursand 10 hours of job searching. “When, as a young mother, you’re

told that to get help you must allowyourself to be held back, something iswrong with the system,” Grice says.“I know many people feel help isn’t

mandatory or an obligation, but ifyou’re going to help me, help me in the right way. Cutting off my child-care hours when I need them to attendcollege is not a help. Not allowinghomework or study time to counttoward TANF’s work requirementsdoesn’t help. Helping me means work-ing with me, not against me, to see thatvision through.”TANF also proved frustrating for

Renita Pitts, a recovering drug addictand mother of five children and agrandmother of 21. “My ex-husband and I worked many

low-wage jobs yet still qualified forTANF. When he left our family after 23years, I faced many barriers,” Pitts says.“I was a recovering drug addict, a vic-tim of severe domestic violence, a wel-fare recipient, a single mother of fiveand dyslexic. But TANF, especially thefive-year limit, was my biggest barrierby far. “Today, I am a success story. I com-

pleted Laney College with three associ-ate’s degrees. I transferred to UC-Berkeleyand graduated with a double bachelor’sdegree. It wasn’t easy. It took 10 yearsto get my B.A. Women on welfare withchildren need more time than whatTANF allows when they try to work, goto school, and care for their kids. We’remothers first,” Pitts insists. “We’re notlazy. We’re not stupid. We want to goto college. We want it for our futureand our children’s future.”

For many people, Dec. 31, 1999, conjuresmemories of Y2K and the new millennium. ToRenita Pitts, it was the day she found her “voice.”At the time, Pitts was a recovering drug addict

in an abusive relationship — a single welfaremother with five children. After struggling for 13years with an addiction to crack cocaine, Pittsdecided to forge a new path for herself and herchildren. As it turns out, her path would lead toLow-Income Families’ Empowerment throughEducation (LIFETIME).Pitts was 37 when she started at Laney College in

Oakland. On her way to class, she saw a CalWORKsoffice on campus. By chance, an employee toldPitts about an organization called LIFETIME.“I hadn’t set foot in a college for more than 20

years,” Pitts recalls. “I was literally this lost per-son at first.”With the help of LIFETIME’s

founder, Diana Spatz, Pittssays she rediscovered herconfidence. She also gainedaccess to the resources sheneeded to pursue higher edu-cation while on welfare. “You can go to college on

welfare, but your caseworkermay not tell you that at thetime you sign your welfare-to-work contract,” Pitts says. “If ithadn’t been for Diana andLIFETIME, I would never have known to chal-lenge the system or find other means of supportfor child care.”Like many welfare mothers, Pitts learned that

the regulations governing welfare can often beobstacles to higher education access and success. “For me, TANF was a hindrance, not help,” says

Pitts. “Instead of working to get you out ofpoverty, TANF focused on getting you into anykind of low-paying job versus bettering yourselfthrough education.” Pitts was fortunate. Through the support serv-

ices offered by LIFETIME, she turned her collegeeducation into a welfare reform strategy. Pittsgraduated from Laney College with three associ-ate’s degrees — a general curriculum degree andone each in social welfare and African American

studies. She also was awarded the PresidentialMedallion, which provides scholarships to stu-dents with outstanding academic achievements.Pitts’ accomplishments are all the more impressivebecause she suffers from dyslexia. “The good things that have come my way are

because I found my voice, and that never wouldhave happened if it wasn’t for LIFETIME tellingme I could do it,” Pitts says.Pitts was later hired by LIFETIME, where she used

her “voice” to speak out for other welfare mothersstruggling to get off the welfare track throughhigher education. Pitts says she found herself takingon the role of a “political activist,” meeting withsenators and governors, providing testimony onwelfare reform, even staging peaceful demonstrations.

“It was scary but empowering,” Pitts recalls. “Itwas important because fed-eral and state policymakersare the people crunching thenumbers. They need to seethe faces behind those num-bers. To be able to standbefore them and say, ‘Here Iam, a welfare mother with a3.8 GPA, a recovering drugaddict and trying to do theright thing by going back toschool. Yet, your policies arecreating a roadblock, not ahelping hand.’ ”

Ever determined, Pitts attained two bachelor’sdegrees from UC-Berkeley in 2008 — one insocial welfare and one in African American stud-ies. Today, she has returned to where her seeds ofchange first took root: Laney Community Col-lege. Pitts works there as a math instructor. Pitts’s story is still a work in progress. In addi-

tion to her full-time job, she continues to volun-teer at LIFETIME. Pitts also plans to write a bookabout her welfare-to-college experiences, some-thing she hopes will inspire her 21 grandchildren.“My grandmother was murdered when I was 9

years old,” Pitts says. “But in the short time shewas with me, she instilled a sense of determina-tion and to always fight for what you believe in.There is always hope. This is the legacy I wantto leave.”

Renita Pitts’ life has changed dramatically. She went from a crack-addicted welfare mother offive to a college math instructor with two bachelor’s degrees. As a LIFETIME volunteer, she alsouses her voice in the “scary but empowering” work of policy advocacy.


‘Lost person’ found herself in college

“I found my voice, andthat never would havehappened if it wasn’tfor LIFETIME telling me I could do it.”

Laney College instructor Renita Pitts

Barbara Cervone believes people need to see, hear and read about whatstudents can do when it comes to higher education. It was a novel

idea in 2001, and it inspired Cervone to leave a prestigious job as nationaldirector of the Annenberg Challenge grant program — at the time thenation’s largest private investment in the public school reform — toestablish an organization appropriately called What Kids Can Do (WKCD).Based in Providence, R.I., WKCD uses the voices and views of stu-

dents — individuals who are typically left out of conversations involv-ing pressing higher education issues — as a way to improve collegereadiness, access and success. WKCD takes a multimedia approach toits work, employing the Internet, books, presentations, digital media,audio slide shows and videos to share students’ stories and theirperspectives on shaping policy and advocacy.

What Kids Can Do

When it’s amplified,

the ‘student voice’

has tremendous reach


“The goal is to show what youngpeople can accomplish when they’regiven the opportunities and supportthey deserve,” says Cervone. “Mostimportant, we provide real-life examplesof what students can contribute when adultstake their ideas and voices seriously.”“If you don’t really know from the

student level what’s going on with stu-dents’ learning and their lives, it’s reallyhard to shape changes in the way theyare educated,” adds WKCD co-founderKathleen Cushman.

Loaded questionsThe work begins with a series of

questions: What do students yearn for?What do they want to do, and whatsupports are missing from their lives?Students provide the first-personanswers, and those answers form thebasis for the stories that WKCD presents.In addition to its college access and

success work, WKCD produces stu-dent stories on topics about interna-tional issues, community service andyouth activism. The organization alsomaintains a not-for-profit publishingarm, Next Generation Press, which haspublished 12 books.Cervone and Cushman showcase

their work on young people and theiradult allies at WKCD’s Web site(www.whatkidscando.org), which attractsabout 75,000 visitors monthly. Stu-dents are active collaborators in allfacets of WKCD’s efforts. They con-duct research, act as narrators forvideos, recount personal experiencesfor books and more.“We call it powerful learning with a

public purpose,” Cervone notes. “We seestudents as the knowledge creators andexperts in the college-going equation.”Cervone’s interest in school reform

dates back more than four decades. In

the early 1970s, she was instrumentalin launching a multi-state network ofalternative high schools. Her decisionto leave Annenberg to start WKCDwas a “leap of faith” — one that Cervonesays she’s never regretted.Today, Cervone, 62, says WKCD has

allowed her to go “wherever the workmay take her.” That might include aninner-city classroom in the Bronx or, aswas the case in 2005, a small village withno running water or electricity in the


Barbara Cervone works with studentDalida Alves at Central High School inProvidence, R.I. Cervone calls youngpeople “the knowledge creators andexperts in the college-going equation.”

preneur and author Marc Freedman, thePurpose Prize program shines the spot-light on social innovators over 60 whoredefine their retirement years by tack-ling longstanding social challenges.Kathleen Cushman is WKCD’s chief

storyteller. A veteran journalist, Cush-man collects and documents the voicesof students, turning their words andperspectives on college access and suc-cess into stories and mixed-media pieces.For instance, in the WKCD audio

slide show Becoming a Scholar, DaraWalker talks about academic supportsfor first-generation college students.Another piece, Academic Culture Shock,introduces Fahad Qurashi, who con-fronts the challenges of transferringfrom a community college to a four-year institution. In WKCD’s storyBeyond Graduation, high school studentsand teacher Kate Gardoqui describe aclassroom project on college prepara-tion and workforce readiness.The audio shows and stories serve a

dual purpose. They act as a guide forstudents who may experience similarchallenges. For policymakers and oth-ers, the stories offer the perspective ofthose in the trenches — i.e., students —about their higher education obstaclesand what can be done to improve theirchances of success.

Taking it personally“It’s easy for people in a higher edu-

cation setting to say: ‘Oh, that’s some-one else’s job; it’s not up to me,’ ” saysCushman. But that changes when studentstell of their own struggles and successes.“When you get to know a student whois staying up all night to do her readingfor a class because she didn’t get homefrom work until 10 at night, you beginto view things differently and start toask how you can help,” Cushman adds.

outskirts of Tanzania. Cervone wrote aphoto essay book about the people livingin that village, and WKCD used the book’sproceeds to fund scholarships for the vil-lage’s children to attend secondary schools.Cervone’s work with WKCD was

recognized in 2008 when Civic Ventureshonored her with a $10,000 PurposePrize fellowship. Co-founded by entre-

“The goal is to show what young people can accomplish whenthey’re given opportunities and support.”

Barbara Cervone, co-founder and president of What Kids Can Do


Kathleen Cushman records a student’scomments for use in a mixed-mediapresentation. Cushman, a co-founderof What Kids Can Do, says her work “is about bringing the actual voices of students to the forefront.”


In third grade, Dara Walker had seriousdoubts about college. It wasn’t until a visit tothe African American History Museum inWashington, D.C., that she changed her mind. The exhibit featured the work and life of

activist poet E. Ethelbert Miller — and that gotWalker thinking about social movements andtheir impact on systemic change.“I looked at that exhibit, and it felt like that’s

what I wanted to do in life,” Walker says. “I wantedto discover how I, as a student, could work withpeople to bring about equality and change.This is when I began to think about college —not just as a way to make money, but somethingI needed in order to make a difference.”Walker started her journey at Eastern Michi-

gan University, where she excelled academi-cally. She also started organizing events aroundsocial issues and promoting youth empowerment.“I used to have an issue

presenting in front of peo-ple. But a professor, Dr.Melvin Peters, would tellme: ‘It’s not about you; it’sabout the information.’ Hehelped me understand that,even though I was a student,I had something importantto say,” Walker explains. “In grade school, I was

the one kids picked onbecause of my weight,” Walker adds. “It kept me inthe background. When I got involved in commu-nity activism, things began to change. Now, I walkinto a room and people may still see a big kid. Butwhen I speak, they start to look at me differently.“That’s when I believe in myself, so others

do, too,” she says.Today, Walker is a first-year graduate student in the

Pan African Studies Program at Syracuse University’sDepartment of African American Studies, and hersense of student activism is stronger than ever. Aspart of her master’s thesis, Walker plans to explorehigh school activism in Detroit during the civilrights era. She hopes the stories she uncovers willone day become part of a high school’s curriculum.“Students need to feel empowered,” Walker

says. “They need to feel their voices count andbe connected to what they learn in school.”These types of school/real-world connections

are exactly what English teacher Kate Gardoqui isforging for her students at Noble High School inNorth Berwick, Maine. Some time ago, Gardoqui

picked up a book written by What Kids Can Doco-founder Kathleen Cushman on what motivateskids to learn. Inspired by the book, Gardoquicreated Beyond Graduation for her AdvancedPlacement Language and Composition class. “This was a service-learning project that took

an investigative approach so students could seehow they can use academic skills to be of serv-ice,” explains Gardoqui.Beyond Graduation begins with the question,

“How do students fare once they graduate fromNoble High School and begin a job or entercollege?” To answer, students conduct researchon college and workplace readiness and collectdata on high school graduation rates, collegeremediation and dropout trends. They theninterview and write about those who have eithergraduated from or dropped out of Noble High.

The profiles offer an illuminating look intohow students view theirhigh school experiencesand their impact on collegeand career success. Onestudent interviewed a teenmother who became preg-nant while in high school;another student talked toa successful filmmaker.

Students also write rec-ommendations for policychanges that they believe

will help improve college and workforce readi-ness. Gardoqui’s students have made dozens ofthoughtful recommendations, including mentor-ship programs involving younger and older stu-dents, an advisory program on college planning,and sit-down meetings with college administrators. For aspiring journalist Zachary Harmon, Beyond

Graduation is more than just a lesson on collegereadiness. The summer between his sophomoreand junior years, Harmon was diagnosed with aform of cancer. Following surgery and radiationtreatments, his cancer went into remission. As ajunior, he met Kate Gardoqui, and he says herenthusiasm for his writing made him begin totake education more seriously.Harmon points to an essay he wrote titled

“Swimming Lessons,” a metaphor for a persondrowning in personal problems. With Gardoqui’ssupport, he submitted the story for a ScholasticArt and Writing Award.“It won,” says Harmon. “That gave me the pat

on the back to believe I had talent as a writer.”

‘I believe in myself, so others do, too’

Dara Walker (center),a first-year graduatestudent in AfricanAmerican studies atSyracuse University,has an on-campus chatwith three fellow gradstudents, includingRemy Johnson.

“Students need tofeel empowered. They need to feel

their voices count.”

Dara Walker


“This is the purpose behind the workof WKCD,” Cushman says. “It’s aboutbringing the actual voices of studentsto the forefront, not as an advertise-ment of someone who has succeededbut as a human voice who is saying, ‘Ihave these human problems, and here’swhat I’m struggling with.’ ”Bringing the message of young peo-

ple to a wider audience also is part ofWKCD’s work with KnowHow2GO(KH2GO), a national public awarenessand action campaign designed toencourage young teens to prepare forcollege. With funds from a LuminaFoundation grant, WKCD is spearhead-ing efforts to link national youth-serv-ing organizations to the KH2GOinitiative. The goal is to take the cam-paign’s college-prep message to YSOsand to the young people served bythese organizations.WKCD also plans to develop a best-

practices guide to share among theKH2GO networks. The idea is to helpparticipants strengthen their individualprograms, as well as learn about eachother’s successes and challenges.

Making connectionsEngaging stakeholders at the grass-

roots level will be a key part of theprocess, says Cervone.“To me, networks that fail to actively

engage the work on the ground mayfall short of their hopes and expecta-tions. You have the meetings, papersand the funding at the top, but unless itreaches and engages the folks who atthe end of the day have to producethe results, you may be limited in a net-work’s impact.”Cushman echoes those sentiments,

adding: “This is why networks thatreach out to students are so important.“Adults get out of the habit of mak-

ing connections with youth,” she says.“It’s pretty easy to put it on someoneelse — teachers, parents, the church orthe local community. What is most sur-prising to me is the degree to which itmatters when one person creates a support-ive relationship with a student. Oneperson reaching out to one student —one potential college student — isenough to help them succeed on theirhigher education journey.”



‘College helped me define who I am’Fahad Qurashi’s hard-fought journey to college is an exam-

ple of what can happen when young people are seen as valuedresources rather than problems.Qurashi is the son of Pakistani immigrants. He grew up on

the east side of San Jose, Calif., in a low-income neighbor-hood scarred by violence, drugs and gangs.“In high school, my focus wasn’t on school.” Qurashi says.

“I wasn’t motivated to think about the future. I was focusedon the now. I didn’t feel my teachers connected with me,maybe because I wasn’t a modelstudent,” he claims. At 18, Qurashi’s life took an

ominous turn. An altercation anddrug possession with intent tosell led to his arrest on two felonycharges. He was sentenced toeight months in the ElmwoodCounty Correctional Facility.For Qurashi, incarceration

turned out to be a criticallyimportant teachable moment.“I knew I was a major disap-

pointment to my parents,” herecalls. “They didn’t visit me theentire time I was in jail. It mademe really reflect on what I wasdoing and where I was going.”Compelled by this introspec-

tion, Qurashi enrolled in thecounty’s Regimented Correc-tions Program (RCP), an effortthat combines boot camp-stylediscipline with counseling andeducational services. Qurashi says his success in

the RCP gave him a sense ofaccomplishment and left himwanting more.“Graduating from the RCP

was huge. It was the first time Iactually applied myself to some-thing. It left me thinking thatmaybe I had the potential to dosomething good with my life,”Qurashi says.Armed with this new outlook,

Qurashi enrolled in De Anza College in Cupertino, Calif.,when he was released from jail. He later transferred to Mary-mount College, where he discovered his academic passion:political science. “The professors just got me,” he recalls. “The bottom line

is, college helped me define who I am. I didn’t understandthat four or five years ago. Now I get it.”

After earning an associate’s degree from Marymount,Qurashi attended San Francisco State University for hisbachelor’s degree. He says his San Francisco State experi-ences were the perfect training ground for his interests inpolicymaking, helping shape him into a “serious” student.Qurashi’s academic success at San Francisco State led to an

internship with a Youth Leadership Institute (YLI) programdesigned to help prevent tobacco use among young people.That experience fed Qurashi’s growing appetite for policy-

making and advocacy, and at thesame time opened a career path-way. Six months into the pro-gram, YLI offered Qurashi a paidposition as a program assistant.After graduating from San Fran-cisco State, Qurashi accepted afull-time position with YLI.Today, Qurashi, 26, remains

focused on youth-developmentissues, working with YLI todevelop programs and servicesthat bring young people and theiradult allies together for positivesocial change. Qurashi says thework reminds him of how farhe’s come while also giving himthe chance to help other youngpeople discover the tremendouspotential of higher education.And he is helping others;

just ask 18-year-old LuisaSicairos. She met Qurashi fouryears ago through Qurashi’swork with YLI. The experiencesparked her interest in youthactivism, Sicairos says, and shebegan to volunteer regularlywith Qurashi to work on com-munity issues she believed in.“Fahad opened doors for me,

whether it’s with my speakingskills or homework. He pushed meto finish my goals,” Sicairos says.Sicairos, a first-year student at

San Francisco City College, hopesto become a social worker. It’s a

career goal that stems from her desire to make a difference in hercommunity and was inspired, in part, by Sicairos’ close relation-ship with her younger sister, Viridiana, who suffers from autism.“Working with Fahad and the YLI showed me that young

people can make a difference,” Sicairos says. “We do havesomething important to contribute when it comes to makingpositive change in our communities if adults are willing to listen.”

Fahad Qurashi overcame a troubled youth, includingan eight-month jail sentence at age 18. Now 26, he’sa college graduate and works as a policy advocatefor the Youth Leadership Institute in San Francisco.


San Francisco City College student LuisaSicairos, 18, is committed to “makingpositive change” — and she’s inspiredby her sister Viridiana, a frequent cell-phone confidant. Viri, 15, is autistic.

Edwin Estevez has fond memories of playing catch with his

father in the Dominican Republic, but the recollections aren’t

merely nostalgic. Even today, Estevez draws on those childhood

experiences for valuable life lessons.

“My father would throw the baseball very fast,” Estevez recalls.

“He was trying to teach me to stay on task — even when it

appeared harder than my abilities would allow me to perform.”

Today, Estevez is the one who’s bringing the heat in his work as a

senior researcher for ENLACE Florida. The organization, created in

2007, is a statewide network that promotes college readiness, access

and success for Latinos and other underrepresented students.

ENLACE Florida

Giving youth a seat

at the table changes

policies AND people


“Network” is a key word in that descrip-tion. ENLACE (pronounced en-LAH-say)is derived from the Spanish word enlazar,which means to weave a connection sothat the whole is stronger than its parts —and the group depends on intercon-nectedness as it tackles the importantwork of increasing college completion.The push to enroll and graduate

more students from college is sup-ported by workforce trends. Laboreconomists and other experts say that,in coming years, the vast majority ofwell-paying jobs will require educationor training beyond high school.Already, the business sector is calling

for more college-educated workers: Asurvey released early this year by theBusiness Roundtable reports that 65percent of employers require an associ-ate’s degree or higher for the majorityof available jobs.

A talent gap loomsUnfortunately, millions of young

people run the risk of never qualifyingfor the 21st century workforce.In Florida, this reality has become

increasingly palpable. Closing the TalentGap, A Business Perspective — a January2010 report from the Florida Council of100 — forecasts a severe “talent gap”for Florida. For the state to reach theeducation level of the 10 most produc-tive states within the next two decades,it will need 4.5 million adults with bac-calaureate degrees. That’s 1.3 millionmore than are expected at currentattainment rates, the report says.Florida’s looming human capital crisis

is reflected in the following statistics:Of every 100 Florida students today, 76 will graduate from high school, 51will attend college, and 32 will earn abachelor’s degree within six years. (Closing the Talent Gap, Florida Council of 100, January 2010.)More than 55 percent of all students entering Florida’s public postsecondaryinstitutions require remediation in math, reading, and/or writing. Ninety-four percent of students who need remediation attend community colleges.(Half of College Students Needing RemediationDrop Out, Office of Program Policy Analysis and Government Accounta-bility, May 2007.)

At Miami Dade College, 80 percent of incoming students need remedial courses before they can begin college-level coursework. About 25 percent need remediation in all three basic skillsareas — reading, writing, and math. (Assessing and Improving Student Outcomes:What We Are Learning at Miami Dade College, Community College ResearchCenter/Achieving the Dream,January 2008)ENLACE Florida is committed to

improving the higher education pathwayfor Florida’s students. The organization,which has received funding from the

W.K. Kellogg Foundation as well asLumina Foundation, pursues severalstrategies to advance its college-accessand success agenda, including policyresearch, advocacy and student support.ENLACE — an acronym for ENgagingLatino, African-American and otherCommunities for Education — makes apoint of enlisting students in its activities.“Students are the foot soldiers for

many of our policy efforts,” explainsPaul Dosal, ENLACE’s executive direc-tor. “They represent a valuable compo-nent of the policy conversations thatare taking place.”

Two years ago, ENLACE Florida cre-ated a policy/advocacy model for studentleadership development called theFlorida Student Education Policy con-ference (FSEP). The effort, which is thefirst of its kind in the state, immersesstudents in the process of policymaking.“We’re giving students — the individ-

uals most affected by higher educationpolicy decisions — a voice in theprocess,” Estevez says. “The idea is toopen up a channel of communicationbetween students and policy leaders —one that can lead to meaningfulimprovements in college readiness,access and success.”The conference is structured in five

phases, beginning in the fall with acompetitive recruitment process forstudent delegates. Once selected, stu-dents do research on their assignededucation theme. They gather data;interview community members, policy-makers, higher education leaders andothers; develop and write policy analy-ses; interact with students from otherdelegations and, finally, prepare theirpresentations for the conference.

Networks that lastStudents also collaborate with other

delegations. Communicating with thehelp of digital tools such as Facebook,Twitter, YouTube and Blackboard, stu-dents build their own networks of stu-dent advocates — networks that remainactive once the conference has ended.During the conference, students par-

ticipate in a mock legislative process todebate and discuss the policy recom-mendations developed by each of thedelegations. Using data and otherresearch to challenge each other, theyeventually reach consensus and thencraft their final policy recommenda-tions. This year, the conference themesincluded financial aid and high schoolcurriculum reform.The effort culminates with ENLACE

Florida Day at Florida’s State Capitol,where students present their policyrecommendations to legislators. Amongthe suggestions students made this year:Higher curriculum standards in K-12,tougher graduation requirements inhigh school and a change in the wayFlorida disburses its financial aid.

Paul Dosal, executive director ofENLACE Florida, understands thepower of youth. “Students are thefoot soldiers for many of our policyefforts,” he says.



Edwin Estevez, a senior researcher for ENLACE Florida,meets with students during their visit to the Capitol to meetwith Florida lawmakers. “We’re giving students...a voice inthe process,” he says, “one that can lead to meaningfulimprovements in college readiness, access and success.”

Students from campuses across Florida gather atthe Historic Capitol in Tallahassee prior to theirvisit with legislators. The event, held in March,demonstrated ENLACE’s hands-on approach topolicymaking and leadership development.

Students also share their personalstories with Florida’s lawmakers, offer-ing insight on the challenges facingfirst-generation college students andsuggesting steps policymakers mighttake to minimize those barriers.ENLACE’s hands-on approach to

policymaking generates real interestand enthusiasm among students forhigher education reform. It enhancesstudents’ understanding of policy analy-sis and advocacy, and at the same timeit allows students to offer input onissues affecting their college educationand that of future generations.“Students leave the conference feel-

ing that they actually have a voiceworth hearing in the 21st century,” saysLinda Goudy, an ENLACE adviser fromthe Florida Institute of Education. “Thisalone goes a long way in helping stu-dents develop a sense of self as some-one who has something worthy to say.And now they’ve learned a way inwhich they can say it and in whichmany people of influence will hear them.”“Florida students want to be heard,”

Estevez says. “If we empower them bygiving them a voice in the process,ENLACE is better positioned to helpadvocate for policies that truly reflectthe needs of students.”

‘Incredibly articulate’And policymakers are listening.

Florida’s state senators and representa-tives are overwhelmingly positive intheir reactions to students’ comments.“The ENLACE students were incredi-

bly articulate, well-informed and sur-prisingly objective when they met withlegislators to present their policy rec-ommendations,” recalls Democrat StateSen. Nan H. Rich. “I was so impressedby what they had to say that I usedsome of their arguments when I spokeabout higher education on the floor lastyear. Our legislators need to listen moreat the grassroots level,” Rich insists.“As a former high school teacher, it’s

gratifying to see students involved at ayoung age in advocacy work,” addsState Rep. Dwight M. Bullard, also aDemocrat. “Even more important, atthe end of the day, ENLACE and itswork with students remind those of uswho are 20 or 30 years removed from



college of why we are here and theimpact that our legislative decisionshave on the future.”Republican State Rep. Anitere

Flores agrees.“Sometimes we tend to focus a lot on

the negative things that may be hap-pening in higher education,” she says.“But this experience shows us somethingvery good that’s going on in our univer-sities and with our students, particularlywith many of our minority students.”This year marked the second year

for the student conference. Sixty-eightstudents — ranging from freshmen toseniors and representing 10 Florida

universities — participated in the 2010program. Sixty-five percent of studentswere women, 55 percent AfricanAmerican and 40 percent Latino.Approximately 70 percent were first-generation students.When students make their confer-

ence presentations, a serious tone per-vades the room; students are poised,prepared and focused. ChristinaRestrepo, 20, says there’s no doubt thatthe conference is a “big deal.”

Restrepo, a first-generation collegestudent, was raised by a single momwho worked two janitorial jobs, morn-ings and nights, to support the family.The hardships that dogged her familymade Restrepo determined to follow adifferent path, one that included college.“I love learning, especially science,”

she says. “When I was in high school,I wasn’t prepared the way I should havebeen. When I first got to college, I haddifficulty. That’s why I am so passionateabout the ENLACE conference. Itfocuses on policy, making changes andgiving us, the students, a chance tospeak out on issues that affect our edu-cation,” Restrepo says.

A rare opportunityStanford Taylor, 21, is a junior at

the University of North Florida. LikeRestrepo, he believes participation inthe conference instilled in him a senseof ownership for his college education.Just as important, Stanford says theexperience gave him the opportunity to make real a difference for youngerstudents.“People don’t get this kind of oppor-

tunity every day — the chance to makepolicy recommendations affecting theentire state of Florida. It’s gratifying toknow that you, as a student, are beinglistened to by people of influence. Atthe same time, you’re doing somethingright for your community,” Taylor says.“I’ve been involved in mentoring since

the fifth grade. For me, the chance towork with ENLACE takes this conceptto a whole new level; it allows studentsto get involved in something that couldproduce large-scale change for the stu-dents of tomorrow,” he adds.Nancy Kason Poulson, professor of

Spanish and Latin American Studies atFlorida Atlantic University, is one of theadvisers for the FSEP conference. Shefirmly believes that students’ policymak-ing efforts are resonating with Floridalawmakers. In 2009, after students rec-ommended tougher high school gradua-tion requirements, the Florida Legislaturepassed House Bill 1293, which echoedseveral of the students’ suggestions.“The comments that students give

make an impact with these elected offi-cials because the students are the ones

Florida Atlantic University ProfessorNancy Poulson, an adviser for theFlorida Student Education Policy con-ference, says the event “unites stu-dents around a common purpose.”

living the repercussions of the policiesbeing made,” Poulson says.“These students are the true face of

policymaking,” adds Gloria Laureano,an assistant vice president at the Uni-versity of Central Florida. “Wheneverlegislators make a decision, they needto remember that student’s face.”More than offering students firsthand

experience in policymaking or givinglegislators the opportunity to meettheir young constituents, ENLACEexposes students to formalized net-works and their potential to effectlarge-scale change in higher education.“One of the most important elements

of the conference is that it unites studentsaround a common purpose, which thenbecomes a lesson on shared goals andhow collaboration can make a mean-ingful difference,” Poulson says.Heather Monroe-Ossi, an ENLACE

adviser at the Florida Institute of Educa-tion, agrees.“The conference is a win-win,” she says.

“Elected officials see real people forwhom their policies have impact. Col-lege students, many of whom are first-generation students, get the opportunity towitness what government in action lookslike. This has been transformational.”

Frank Hernandez wants a say in how Florida’s higher educationpolicies are created, and he’s intent on making sure his voice is heard.Hernandez discovered his interest in advocacy at the University

of South Florida (USF), where he met Paul Dosal, executive direc-tor of ENLACE Florida. Based in Tampa, the organization’s goal isto prepare minority students for college. Hernandez signed on as a mentor for an ENLACE program

focusing on increasing college awareness among middle schoolstudents. The experience opened his eyes to the rewards of com-munity advocacy. It also set in motion what would become a passionfor higher education policy, Hernandez says.“When I heard about the application process for ENLACE’s con-

ference, I was intrigued. I soon realized it was something that couldtake advocacy to a whole other level,” Hernandez recalls. What Hernandez discovered was an intense six-month study in

policy and advocacy. “Not only are we creating this network of college students from

across the state to focus on higher education, but we’re also shar-ing knowledge with each other,” explains Hernandez, who servedas the chair of the USF delegation in 2010. “To me, this is themost crucial aspect of the conference.”The network also provides a mechanism that helps Hernandez

and other conference participants share their knowledge with thelocal community. Specifically, Hernandez and other students meetregularly with organizations in Hillsborough County to conductpresentations on the lessons learned from the conference.“People are blown away because they see that younger students

are interested in policy issues and that it’s more than just talk. We’rebacking up our words with solutions and evidence,” Hernandez says.“What I like about the conference is that you don’t have just

three or four people sitting in a room and trying to dissect a pol-icy. It’s taking the message to the community and getting peopleto understand how these policies affect them,” he adds. “It’s not justabout numbers. Policy is something that affects people’s lives.”It’s that message that Hernandez hopes students can continue to

shape and deliver. “We’re making a difference,” Hernandez says. “We’re empower-

ing certain communities that may not have had the tools to speakup for themselves.”

Mentor says programtakes advocacy to‘a whole other level’


Frank Hernandez (left), a graduate student at the University ofSouth Florida (USF), talks with ENLACE’s Paul Dosal. Hernan-dez, who led the USF delegation to the March conference, sayssuch events have real impact. “People are blown away becausethey see that younger students are interested in policy issues,and that it’s more than just talk,” he says.

First-generation college studentChristina Restrepo says the Floridaeducation policy conference was“a big deal.”


Leadership’s fresh face

Twenty-year-old Vincent Evans is inspired by the words ofactivist Terry Tempest Williams: “The eyes of the future arelooking back at us, and they are praying that we will see farbeyond our own time.”Evans believes activism is his life’s calling. It’s a belief

forged in childhood, when he began to hone his leadershipskills in student government. Those skills were further devel-oped at Florida A&M University (FAMU), where he is a sen-ior studying political science and pre-law. “I’ve had opportunities to see firsthand how politics work,”

Evans explains. “Because of those opportunities, I feel I needto do whatever I can to ensure thatthe people who make policies thatare affecting my education and mylittle brother’s and sister’s educationhear and learn from those who areaffected by their decisions.“I believe education is the civil

rights issue of my generation. Thismakes it imperative that the voicesof students reach our elected offi-cials. They need to know that wereally are the way of the future,”Evans says.Poised and articulate, Evans has a

firm grasp of policymaking and animpressive political “resume.” In2008, he helped mobilize nearly4,000 students to vote in the 2008presidential election. He has servedas director of student lobbying andas president of the FAMU Chapterof College Democrats. He also is amember of the Student NationalAlumni Association, the Student Coalition for Justice and theFAMU chapter of the NAACP. These experiences have introduced Evans — a first-generation

college student — to several influential political figures,including President Barack Obama, Secretary of State HillaryClinton, members of Congress and staff members at the U.S.Department of Education. The lessons gleaned from thoseencounters cemented his interest in politics as a future career.“I think my passion for politics comes from having had a seat

at the table,” Evans says, adding: “I believe there must be newvoices in our political process, the voices of today’s youth.”

Those beliefs, in part, led Evans to ENLACE Florida andthe conference ENLACE developed to involve students ineducation policy.This is the second year that Evans has participated in the

Florida Student Education Policy conference (FSEP). He seesit as a vital venue for students who want to contribute tohigher education policy reform. “We do have ideas to offer about our college experience,”

Evans insists. “And that’s what this conference does; it putsthe student voice in front of those debating our future.”It’s more than just students who reap the benefits. As part

of the conference, studentsdevelop policy recommendationsthat they later present to mem-bers of the Florida Legislature.That feedback helps lawmakersfocus on the human aspects andimpacts of the policies they cre-ate. Says Republican State Rep.John Legg:“Of the interest groups I’ve met

in the past year, I can count onone hand those that truly standout. The comments from VincentEvans as part of the ENLACE’ssummit left a lasting impression.It’s one thing to teach kids facts; it’ssomething entirely different tohelp mold students into leadersand advocates.”Evans is well on his way to

becoming just such a leader. In2008, he served a fellowship withYoung People For (YP4), a leader-

ship-development network that works with emerging youngleaders on issues affecting their local communities. Theorganization was created by the People For the AmericanWay Foundation, founded by television producerNorman Lear. Evans’ goals include law school and a possible run

for political office, beginning with a seat in the FloridaLegislature. “Someone once told me a long time ago to run as far as

you can run, go as far as you can go, and you will land insomething good. That’s what I intend to do,” Evans says.

“I believe education is the civil rights issue of

my generation. This makesit imperative that thevoices of students reachour elected officials.

They need to know that we really are the way

of the future.”

Vincent Evans,Florida A&M University senior

Young policy advocate sees education conference as a springboard

Florida A&M University senior Vincent Evans meets in the Florida House chamber with State Rep. John Legg. Evans’interaction with legislators “left a lasting impression,” says Legg. “It’s one thing to teach kids facts,” he adds. “It’ssomething entirely different to help mold students into leaders and advocates.”

lessons - spring 2010 - when networks build a platform

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