FCYU-Feature Story

Man With a Plan
How I got on my grind and started thinking about the future.

By Michael Orr

I'd been living at my residential treatment center about a month, having fun and not worrying about anything, when I met Earl. He was one of the resident troublemakers, in and out of jail all the time.

When the staff workers introduced him to me, he stuck his hand out to give me a pound and said, "What's good?" I gave him a pound and told him I was chilling out and relaxing. Then as I went walking towards the living room, he turned me around and sucker punched me out of nowhere. We were fighting for at least 10 minutes before staff broke us up. I had a busted upper lip from this dude and I didn't even know why he wanted to fight.

Earl just kept on causing trouble for himself by talking a lot of crap and thinking he could beat everyone. Earl was a crip, the only one on campus. He was outnumbered one to two or three dozen, but that didn't stop him from representing his colors.

No Place to Go

Earl kept on causing trouble with everybody until 2001. In that year he turned 21 and had no family, no friends and no place to go or live.

We all witnessed that day when staff handed him some plastic bags and a Metrocard, wished him a happy birthday (talk about adding insult to injury) and sent him with his belongings to a shelter.

I didn't feel bad for him at all because he brought it on himself. The thing that got me was how they sent him on his way. I was really upset about their actions because I pictured myself in Earl's shoes for that moment. I knew the administration workers were grimy, but what they did to that fool was messed up.

Maybe they had this planned just for him. Or maybe it applied to anyone who has no place to go. All I knew was I was not going to allow it to happen to me.

When I first got put in care at 13, I thought I wasn't going to be there long and I wanted to go back with my family. Then I started noticing kids getting discharged to their family and ending up back in foster care a month or two later. I didn't want to go through that. I decided then that I would have to make the best of foster care. Years later, seeing what happened to Earl made me determined not to become another trapped statistic of the system.

My friends were saying the same thing as me, but they were not as serious about it as I was. Not that I was real serious. I kept on misbehaving and not listening to staff. But I also started preparing to leave care.

I had a job on campus in the cafeteria. It only paid $25 a week, but I began to put every cent I earned away and started thinking about living on my own. It was the first time I was really thinking about my future and I wanted to start on it as quickly as possible. I knew the sooner I started the better it would be for me.

I was 17 years old when they kicked Earl out. It was crazy because I was going to be 18 in three months so I felt I would be their next target. I had to get on my grind ASAP.

Working Towards the IL List

My social worker tried to convince me to go to a group home every time he had a chance, but I refused. I wanted to go straight to an Independent Living house, not a group home. I needed to get away from my peers and staff because everyone at the RTC was a distraction to me.

There were people smoking, drinking, male staff having sex with female residents, people stealing from each other and lots of fights. I had no privacy. In Independent Living I would be one step closer to being on my own. To qualify, I would have to have a job or be going to college or vocational school.

One of my school advisers introduced me to a program called Vesid, which helps teens and adults find work or pays for them to go to school. I didn't know what field I would be interested in, but since I had worked in the cafeteria my school advisor suggested I study culinary arts. I decided to give it a shot.

I started going to vocational school twice a week. The place was called Boces and it was far from where I was. I had to take a bus to the last stop, then walk down a long road to get to the school. It took over an hour each way, but I was glad to be in the program because it could increase my chances of getting on the IL list.

Not Ready to Go

I had to complete the course in three months to get my certificate. But after two and a half months I quit to play my final year on the varsity basketball team. Basketball was one of the few things that kept me motivated and I loved playing all the time. My team had won the Section 1 Class D Championship a year before, and I wanted to win again.

More importantly, my coaches and teammates wanted me to play my final year, and once I saw and heard how everyone was looking forward to me coming back, I decided I would. I felt wanted and appreciated by them. I don't think I ever felt that way before I came to the campus. Knowing that I was going to be leaving soon gave me the same feeling I had when I was taken away from my parents and put in care. The campus was like a second home to me.

My chance to go to independent living was set back a little because of my decision. But I was willing to make up for that by getting a job once the season was over.

From RTC to Group Home

During the course of my basketball season, my social worker assigned me to go to a group home, without telling me. He told me after the decision was made that I didn't need to be on campus because I didn't need that much supervision.

That was a messed up surprise for me. I knew I needed to leave the RTC. I was getting older and it seemed like everyone else was getting younger. But I wanted to leave the way I planned with my workers from the agency and ACS. I had lived at the RTC for almost five years, and it was a shock to have to leave everything all at once.

I was angry they had made a decision behind my back. I started thinking, "What was the point of having all those meetings if what I said was not going to make a difference?"

It seemed like it might mess up my plans for aging out, but I decided to make sure it wouldn't happen at my new placement, and tried to make my stay in the group home a short one.

Putting On My Serious Face

A few days after I moved, I had another meeting with staff. When we discussed my future, I put on my serious face and told them my plan to go to independent living and how good I had done on the campus. I even told them about what my social worker did and demanded they not pull that same stunt on me. They said I would be informed about any news that comes up about my future.

On my 19th birthday I played my final game on the varsity team. With my basketball season over, I was ready to focus on getting a job and getting out of the group home. I prepared to find work at any place that was hiring.

I filled out applications at Foot Locker, Macy's, Sears, Party City, Circuit City and Modell's and had no luck. My friend Jayvonne told me K-Mart was hiring, so I filed out an application. One week later, I went to an orientation and when it was over I was handed a folder with my schedule inside. I walked back to the group home feeling surprised and proud of myself for obtaining a job. I told everyone the good news.

About three months later, after my next meeting, I signed up for Section 8 housing and a savings account. I had a job and stayed out of trouble. I completed all of the tasks they asked me to do with no problem, so there was no way they could deny me a spot on the IL list.

Moving to Independence

After six months, I was finally able to move to Independent Living. When I received the news, I went nuts. I felt so great about it I started packing up my things immediately. The next day a van came to take me and my stuff to my new placement.

The only problem was that the new placement was right by campus, and I was afraid I'd be around the same people all the time. Sure enough, I arrived at the house to find lots of people from the campus hanging out. My new roommate had invited them to chill there and do whatever they wanted. They were drinking, smoking and using blankets to sleep on like it was a shelter up in there.

There was never any privacy and it was always noisy at the house, so I dealt with it by spending most of my time at the b-ball court. A month or so later, I was moved to another IL house. I got my Section 8 vouchers and started searching for an apartment. I went to a real estate broker to help me find a place to live quickly before I left care.

My Own Place

I had some money saved up so it was no problem for me to pay the broker's fee. He found a place that he wanted me to see, but when I got there the super had the wrong set of keys. I was tired and frustrated so I decided to stick with the place without seeing it.

I signed a two-year lease, put down the first month's rent and security deposit and received the right set of keys. When I went back to the apartment I was surprised to see how good it looked. I was excited about it and I couldn't wait to move in.

Since I had only six months left in care I decided not to tell anyone that I got the apartment 'til my time was almost up. That way I could stay in the IL house and continue getting my petty cash, allowance and carfare. In February, I finally told my social worker that I had found an apartment recently and I needed furniture. She was furious because she couldn't take the credit for finding the house for me.

My 21st birthday finally arrived and it was a breath of fresh air for me. I went to the Independent Living office to get my grant money and the last of the money I was getting from the IL program. Then I celebrated my birthday and my accomplishment with my girlfriend Erica.

Changing For the Better

Now I've been living at my apartment for almost a year with Erica and things are going fine. I do some part-time work and I get to see my family more. I feel a lot better about myself and I feel that Erica and I are changing for the better. I have grown into a mature young adult and still try to show my younger peers what they need to do after they get out of care, even though they don't take my advice seriously.

At times I catch myself thinking about the decisions I made to get me to this point. If I had an opportunity to do it differently, I wouldn't change anything. To me the greatest thing about going from foster care to having my own place was the journey itself.