Homeless Students Go To College San Diego City College Foundation reaches out to disadvantaged students.

They Showed Us Strength We Didn't Know We Had Southern Mutual Help Association revitalizes rural communities.

My Kid Ate That? Fresh fruits and vegetables bring healthy diets to inner-city Philadelphia.

Title: HOMELESS STUDENTS GO TO COLLEGE
Profile: San Diego City College Foundation Outreach Program
Fall 1998, volume 9:1, p. 21

Wakened by early morning traffic, Damaso, 18, rolled out of bed—a faded red quilt on a cement rooftop. From a plastic garbage bag he pulled out clean clothes and his college French textbook. 

Damaso had a problem.  His prof wanted him to describe, in French, what he had in his bedroom and how he got to San Diego City College each day. "I'll say I have a stereo, bed, chair, desk and lamp, and I get to school on a trolley. For real. Because I know I'm going to have those things someday," he reasoned.

Damaso is one of over 100 students to enter college, thanks to the personalized support system offered by San Diego City College Foundation Outreach Program. Despite parental neglect, spousal abuse, and homelessness, these students want to attend college and improve their lives.

"We focus on motivated students with extreme disadvantages. One young man walked four miles to tell me, 'I have potential. I just need someone to give me a chance,'" says John Willis, foundation president.

An older student, Toni, came to college from a YWCA battered women's program. In college for the first time, she took a full load and earned a 3.3 GPA. Her computer instructor hired her to work in the college computer lab.

"Toni recently attended a business women's luncheon, the first time she'd ever been in an elevator that went up 34 stories," says Director of Outreach Donna Blomquist, whom students describe as a surrogate mom.

The key to success is that students receive far more than tuition scholarships. The Foundation helps them with books, bus fare, housing, and childcare.

Outreach Coordinator Richard Price shepherds students through getting a permanent address and social security number—necessities for admissions and financial aid.

Between 60 and 70 percent of Outreach Program students stay in college and find entry-level jobs.  "If you've never had any income, a minimum-wage job at McDonald's is a big leap forward," Willis says.

Recently, Damaso  dressed in a suit and tie for a scholarship banquet in a famous hotel—three firsts for a boy who'd once known only drugs, violence, and parental neglect.

"When a student from a disadvantaged area is assisted in securing a college education, in all probability their children and grandchildren will be educated as well. Thus, the poverty cycle for one family is interrupted and the education level grows geometrically," Willis says.

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Title:  THEY SHOWED US STRENGTH WE DIDN’T KNOW WE HAD
Profile: Southern Mutual Help Association
Fall 1998, volume 9:1, p. 22

Shirley Wesley wasn't at the first meeting of Southern Mutual Help Association (SMHA) in Four Corners, Louisiana. But she might as well have been. That 1989 event has become the stuff of legend, told and retold by those who discovered inner resources.

In 1989 Four Corners had 500 people, 150 houses, a corner store, and no sewage system. Most families owned their homes, but earned under $10,000 a year. Their cramped, wooden houses were sinking in waste water.

The way Shirley Wesley, a school cafeteria supervisor, tells it, residents went to the local priest. He invited SMHA to Four Corners. Seventeen women showed up.

"The women said, 'We need you to fix our houses,' NOT," Wesley notes, "'Will you help us help ourselves?'" 

SMHA Executive Director Lorna Bourg countered: "Who used to get up at 4 a.m., cut sugar cane by hand, lift it on tractors, go home to cook lunch, work in the fields till dark, then make supper and wash clothes? Who built your churches?"

Bourg revived memories, Wesley says. "We had forgotten all our forefathers did to survive. We'd gotten so dependent, that if we didn't qualify for a welfare program, we stopped trying."

Her own kitchen and bathroom leaked. The floors had holes. Rats ate through walls. There were no closets.  She'd ripped out cheap, warped paneling but never bought more.

Women at that first meeting pledged to rebuild their community by helping each other, one house at a time. "My cousin forced me to join. I'd never done hard work," Wesley admits.

She learned to tear down abandoned buildings, then de-nail, sort, and save wood. She and 150 neighbors mastered basic home repairs at the Skills Transfer Center.

Four Corners SMHA successfully petitioned for a public sewage system. With federal grants, low-interest revolving loans, and volunteer labor, they rehabbed 100 homes. Their peer lending program has had no defaults.

"My family was very proud to have a part in fixing up our house," Wesley says. "Now neighbors are doing their yards. Drug use is down. People are moving back and starting businesses."

As assistant treasurer of Four Corners SHMA, she also mentors fledgling SMHAs in nearby towns. She tells them how her town changed: "It still fills my heart when I hear people talk about that first meeting.  It opened our eyes to our innate ability to survive."

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Title: MY KID ATE THAT?
Subtitle: Fresh fruits, vegetables bring healthy diets to inner-city Philadelphia
Fall 1997, volume 8:1, pp. 12-15

It's a typical weekday morning at the century-old Reading Terminal Market in the heart of Philadelphia. In clean, well-lit stalls, eighty vendors are piling peppers into pyramids, icing freshly-caught fish, baking bread and squeezing pineapples and oranges into juice. Amish farmers offer samples of plump tomatoes and pears.

But in dozens of neighborhoods beyond walking distance of the Market and the Liberty Bell, the only fresh growing things are weeds. They push up through cracked sidewalks to climb chain link and barbed wire. Hungry kids emerge from cramped rowhouses that open onto noisy sidewalks. Wrinkled apples sell for 99 cents each in corner stores. Many kids breakfast on pop and chips instead.

The Reading Terminal Farmers' Market Trust aims to change this imbalance through weekly community-based produce markets and nutrition education.

"Since 1892, Reading Terminal Market has been synonymous with fresh foods in Philadelphia.  The merchants felt the Market should play a greater leadership role to increase access to fresh fruits and vegetables and improve nutrition in the inner city," says R. Duane Perry, executive director of the Trust.

He cites statistics: up to 40 percent of Philadelphia's minority population suffers from poor nutrition. Among 21 metro areas, Philadelphia ranks 20th in inner-city food access, as measured by density and square footage of food stores and supermarkets in zip code areas.

"Half of inner-city people don't own cars. Many families have only $200 a month to spend on food.  Imagine having to spend $10-$25 of that on bus and taxi fares to the store," says Ena Rosen, who manages the Trust's community relations and day-to-day details.

Subhead: But my kids never eat vegetables…

In fall 1993, Trust nutrition educator Sandy Sherman began bringing fruits and vegetables every Thursday afternoon to Tasker Homes, a housing project in southwest Philly.

"Middle-aged and older women showed how they used the food in their own kitchens. They'd have heated discussions on whether to steam greens for 15 minutes in chicken bouillon or stew them for hours with fatback. We went to the grade school across the street and said any child could buy a piece of fruit for 10 cents. Soon 75 children were bringing their pennies to our weekly farmers' market," Sherman says.

Besides offering cooking demos and free samples at the market, Sherman and her core of community volunteers involved kids in hands-on fun.

"On St. Patty's Day we had green vegetables for the kids to wash and break up in tubs—raw lettuce, spinach, collards, kale, turnip greens, broccoli, green beans. The kids tossed it and put on salad dressing. Then they ate it.

"Their parents were shocked. 'My kid never eats vegetables!' several mothers told me. Soon they were complaining about having to hide fruits and vegetables after market day, so their kids wouldn't eat them too fast," Sherman says.

Adults told her: "My blood pressure's down. I'm losing weight. I feel good. I'm eating more fresh fruits and vegetables."

The Trust applied for a $15,000 Kellogg grant to run the half-day market and nutrition education each week all year.

"The $15,000 Kellogg grant we got in 1994 is the reason we got a $200,000 USDA grant plus $175,000 of in-kind services and grants from other foundations. In spring 1996, Kellogg gave us another $125,000 for two years," Sherman says.

The grants let the Trust form the Nutrition Education Network and combine nutrition education with half-day farmers' markets in five neighborhoods.

Subhead: Nutrition education comes home

Through its Nutrition Education Network, the Trust works with schools, child care centers and SHARE, a self-help food distribution program, to reach 17,000 inner-city residents a year.

At seven elementary and middle schools, the Trust runs parent workshops and teacher nutrition curriculum training. It sponsors nutrition-themed student writing and art contests and school-based mini-markets around holidays. Sometimes Reading Terminal Market becomes the base for school tours and treasure hunts.

"Teachers are very interested in nutrition training. But many work in schools with no photocopier or no classroom budget for paper, crayons and markers. We buy their materials and have raffles so a busload of kids can visit Reading Terminal Market," Sherman says.

Nutrition Education Network also teaches recovering substance abusers to buy and prepare fresh food. It includes recipes and nutrition information in SHARE newsletters and in monthly menus sent home to 50-plus archdiocese day care centers.

The Trust works intensively with three child care centers, where parents and children have nutrition activities at least once a month.

For example, at Triumph Baptist Church Child Care Center, several miles north of downtown, the curriculum makes eating right as natural as counting to twenty or naming colors and shapes.

Before reading a picture book called Jamberry, the teacher asks preschoolers whether they've eaten strawberries.

"They have seeds!" a pigtailed girl shouts.

"What color are strawberries?" the teacher asks.

After story time, the cook shows clippings from wineberry and blueberry bushes and lets kids sample fresh raspberries and blackberries.

The children make their own snack. "I want each of you to count out 20 blueberries. We'll put yogurt on the blueberries and four strawberries on top of the yogurt. Then we'll stick in a little flag," the teacher says.

One little boy demurs: "I don't like yogurt." But when he sees his tablemates gobbling Fourth-of-July sundaes, he digs in, too.

"Every day the cook explains what we're eating and why. We provide snacks and hot lunch, but children bring their breakfasts. They're not coming in with the junk anymore. They used to bring Hugs (artificially flavored sweetened drinks) and donuts. Now they come in with actual fruit juice, fresh fruit, grits, oatmeal or cereal," says Rev. Cathy Johnson, who oversees the childcare center.

Parent activities take place when children get picked up. One popular winter demo showed how to make vegetable soup from scratch, because it's lower in fat, salt, and cost.

Subhead: Taste this healthy message

When it surveyed customers at its five pilot community markets, the Trust learned they were eating twice the national daily amount of fresh fruits and vegetables, as compared to findings from a National Health and Nutrition Examination Survey. Most shoppers said they talk about healthy eating with their children. About half regularly tried prepared samples at the markets, and a quarter planned to use the recipes at home.

The Thursday afternoon market at Bethany Baptist Church in Chester, an old city southwest of Philadelphia, strengthens the link between health and diet. Representatives from two dozen Chester health organizations take turns attending the market. They offer free blood pressure checks, cholesterol tests and dietary advice.

"African-Americans are at high risk for cardiovascular disease. Their blood pressure tends to be higher, which leads to heart and kidney problems. We focus on reducing fat in the diet. One key is to eat more fresh fruits and vegetables," says Walter Harris, director of Field Services for Health Promotion Council of Southeastern Pennsylvania.

"We've had a strong health message for ten years, but many communities had no access to fresh fruits and vegetables. Chester is 75 percent low-income now that the paper mill cut way back and shipbuilding is gone. Within ten blocks of Bethany Baptist, you find mostly fast food restaurants and mom-and-pop stores that just sell candy and tobacco products," Harris says.

Tito Ayala, an employee of Iovine Brothers Produce in Reading Terminal Market, manages the Chester market. He bought umbrellas to keep shoppers and produce cool in the church parking lot. "I don't bring anything here I wouldn't buy for my own family. These prices are lower and the stuff is fresher than shoppers can find in the neighborhood," he says.

Church secretary Estelle Kennedy calls the market "a blessing. The city farmers' market disbanded, and the nearest supermarket is eight blocks from my house. I don't have a car and can't walk that far. It's expensive to take a bus there if I need just one thing, like greens."

Many shoppers carry cards so nurses can monitor their blood pressure at the market each week.  Shoppers are more likely to buy vegetables they're familiar with, so one health group hands out samples of lowfat dip and raw broccoli and cauliflower.

Gretchen White-Streuli, community outreach specialist for Visiting Nurse Association of Greater Philadelphia, offers free health assessments in the shoppers' homes. "Many diabetics think they're doing such a good job by choosing fruit-flavored drinks. They don't know why their vision is blurred, why their wounds heal so slowly. We go into the housing projects and teach them to read labels.  If they choose fresh fruits instead of fruit-flavored sugar water, they can control their blood sugar," she says.

Subhead: Forging sustainable links

The challenge is to make community markets sustainable.The Trust locates markets in communities where strong, stable institutions want to get involved.  Bethany Baptist is known as one of Chester's most active churches.

Even so, Rosen says, "Sales fall off near the end of the month, when assistance checks run out. The Trust subsidizes the merchant that supplies and manages this market. But sales will rise when people move back into renovated housing projects on either side of the church."

The Trust seeks three more sites in greater Philadelphia to open community markets that combine nutrition education and preventive health.

"Our goal is to increase the level of community investment so we can walk away from it," Perry says.

Two of the Trust's first five pilot markets are now on their own. Tasker Home residents formed a 501(c)3 to start a job training program and open a small store, which will include a community market and nutrition education.

The Germantown-Venango market is run by members of Zion Baptist Church north of downtown.  Though the market still operates from tables on a crowded sidewalk, members hope to buy an abandoned firehouse for a permanent store. Their presence has already stimulated welcome competition. A nearby store increased its amount and quality of fresh produce, and street vendors set up fruit salad stands.

Meanwhile, Rosen finds new ways to raise Philadelphians' awareness of inner-city food access and health. She commissioned a local sculptor to make Philbert, the Trust's Reading Terminal Market mascot—which doubles as a life-size piggy bank. She convinced market merchants to donate a percentage of sales from certain items to the Trust.

"I've visited school cafeterias after the Trust has put on a mini-market. Kids open up their little brown bags and brag: 'Look what I bought—grapes!' I wish I could capture and bottle that enthusiasm for healthy eating!" Perry says.