The boy had become a regular in juvie. By age 13 Darrell was skipping school and hanging out with the wrong crowd. A series of arrests failed to scare him straight. Even after serving time in King County’s juvenile detention facility he kept getting rearrested for violating the terms of his parole.
In an interview Kenan, Darrell’s mentor at Friends of the Children (FOTC) King County, and Darrell himself, looking back at his life now that he’s 18, both described those years as out of control. “I sorta got swept up in it,” Darrell said. He was drawn into what the rest of the gang did, like “going out to fight, causing a whole bunch of trouble, drinking.”
When he was 3 years old Darrell (not his real name) was adopted into what he summed up as “a pretty good home.” But his father died when Darrell was 6, and his maternal grandfather, who lived with the family, died soon afterward. His mother sank into a chronic depression. “She stopped working,” said Darrell. “She wasn’t really there emotionally.” By middle school, he said, “I was smoking weed,” and in his junior year he was expelled from Franklin High for fighting.
Darrell was one of the toughest young gang members around Seattle, according to FOTC King County program director Edgar Masmela. He describes kids in Darrell’s situation as street-savvy, seemingly mature for their age, but in reality very frightened. Like other youth who join gangs, the boy had been “scared away from his goals,” said Masmela.
FOTC mentors helped Darrell gradually master his fears and resist gang pressure. “I probably would’ve done worse things if this guy [Kenan] wasn’t on my back, or calling on my cell phone. My mentor would be at the front door, so I would say to my friends, ‘I can’t go.’ ”
Duncan Campbell founded the nonprofit Friends of the Children in 1993, in his home city of Portland, Ore., when he sold his successful business and used the profits to bankroll a program that would help at-risk kids.
Eighteen years later the program has a retention rate of over 90 percent, and the 82 percent high-school graduation rate of youngsters involved far exceeds the national average (more stats are in the box at right). These exceptional results recently prompted the National Institutes of Health to launch a five-year study, led by John Mark Eddy of the UW School of Social Work, to assess the impact of FOTC on children in comparison with a control group of children outside the program.
Campbell grew up in a welfare family with alcoholic parents, and his father spent time in prison, so he has a background like the youngsters he saw during his first career as an attorney in the Portland juvenile justice system. As Campbell sees it, “Ninety-five percent of the kids coming through didn’t need to be there. They were just neglected, not raised right.”
What they needed were caring adults who could serve as role models. But “if you gave them an adult role model, it had to be over a long time in order to develop their basic skills and nurture them," he said.
So FOTC staff in Portland, Seattle, New York, and three other American cities start by visiting inner-city kindergartens and first-grade classes to find the poorest, most difficult children. “Almost to a child they don’t believe an adult cares about them,” said Campbell. “Most have little or no hope.” At school some sit listlessly, sad, and anxious. Others act out, fighting with classmates and swearing at the teacher. They seem destined for early pregnancies or prison when they get older.
FOTC matches them with trained, paid mentors who have a gift for relating to kids and who have a college degree so that they can model the importance of being educated past high school. The best candidates have worked in the juvenile justice system and witnessed firsthand that “no change takes place there,” Campbell said.
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