Now I lay me down to sleep
At the youth emergency shelter, a team of guardian angels helps lost souls get back on their feet
Elizabeth Withey
The Edmonton Journal
Saturday, November 11, 2006
At the Edmonton Youth Emergency Shelter, it costs $120 to house one kid for one night. Food and personal items are donated
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The orange wall clock in Edmonton's Youth Emergency Shelter kitchen reads exactly 9 p.m.
The doorbell rings. It's late October, and the temperature outside is just above zero.
Crisis assessment worker Michelle Reinhart curls h 12-hour shift started an hour ago, and she is still waking up for the night.
The doorbell rings again.
Reinhart looks up at the clock. Each chime is a call for help from a homeless teen.
"I'd better go," she says, and gets up from the table.
More than 1,000 young people make use of the shelter's services every year. The emergency shelter program provides basic services -- food, warm bed, clothing, bus ticket -- to homeless teens aged 15 to 18. Sixteen bunk-beds are available on a night-by-night basis at the 9310 Whyte Ave. location.
Reinhart is one of the shelter's many front-line workers. At 23, she is not much older than some of the youth who stay here, and her faded black jeans, black hoodie and skater shoes make her look more like a street kid than a social worker.
Looks can be deceiving.
Reinhart is well trained in behaviour management and conflict de-escalation, suicide intervention and aboriginal cultural awareness. She started as a summer student and now works the night shift full-time.
"I wasn't sure if I could handle it," she says. "I was worried, having a quiet voice, not being aggressive. I wasn't sure anyone would listen to me if I told them what to do."
Friends and family tried to talk her out of the job. "It's hard work," they told her. "It doesn't pay that well."
They're right. Reinhart gets by on a salary of less than $30,000. She shares her apartment with roommates she rarely sees. And she struggles to get enough shut-eye during the day.
"Today, the neighbour was taking down trees with a chainsaw," she says. "It's totally normal stuff, but it's your time to sleep and that drives you crazy."
Despite her self-doubts, Reinhart's gentle demeanour proves welcoming, not wimpy, with the teens during intake.
"Have you seen your boyfriend since he threatened you?" she softly asks an 18-year-old, taking notes on loose leaf. "Are you safe? Still scared?"
"I'm still scared, yes," the teen says. "Needless to say, I'm having my name changed."
Some kids are regulars; others are here for only one night after a family dispute. Executive director Deb Cautley says teen-parent conflict is usually the tip of the iceberg; counselling exposes a host of other issues: addiction, neglect, bullying, mental illness. Two-thirds of kids who use the shelter have been abused.
Reinhart says some parents send their kid to the shelter to "scare them straight" but it can have the opposite effect.
"It can give them access to opportunities to self-destruct," she says. "When you take away their family support, it can be a recipe for disaster."
As the evening ticks by, the shelter gets hectic. The doorbell rings at regular intervals. Several teens wait in the lobby for intake. The phone keeps ringing.
"We're swamped here, I'll call you back," staff member Carolyn Cox barks at the caller, then bustles to the lobby. "Who's next?"
Reinhart helps a girl find clothing.
"Do you have underwear and a sports bra?" the teen asks.
"Ya, probably," Reinhart says, rummaging through a pile of donations. "What size of jeans do you wear?"
"Like three, or zero, or one," the girl says. "Can I have a top bunk again?"
Cox is back. "Ya, you're in 16," she tells the teen.
"Yessss," the girl celebrates.
The mood is cheerful; the stories are not. One client is pregnant and needs an extra lunch to get through the day without going hungry. Another arrives with a clear garbage bag of aluminum cans slung over his shoulder; he sold his bus tickets to pay off a drug debt. A third just got out of detox at AADAC.
Still, Reinhart says the kids make good company.
"I like hanging out with them, seeing what their lives are like," she says. "And obviously when you make a difference, that's rewarding."
After registering, the kids head to the kitchen for supper. Food donations cover the table: green apples, sandwich triangles, veggies and dip, pumpkin pie. Baked potatoes and reheated pasta sit in large foil trays.
One kid, who goes by Hustler, says he is grateful for everything the shelter offers, but hates the stigma of being homeless. "Living in a shelter sucks," the 17-year-old says. "If someone asks you where you're living and you say a shelter, they think you're a street guy or a stealer. That hurts.
"I don't think I'm a street guy. But I have a problem with drugs, and I lost my place."
A 16-year-old girl, who goes by Twitch, is tired of the stereotypes. "They think we're rebels, and really we're trying to get a job and get our life straight,"she says. "They won't give us a chance. It starts to piss us off. People will walk two or three feet around us, or they'll cross the street."
Her boyfriend, Ghost, says it was "sketchy" his first night in the shelter. "You don't know what to expect."
The 15-year-old says he's happy to be a street kid. It's better than having beer bottles thrown at him at home, he says. He lived in a tent in the river valley all summer -- "it was chill, man" -- but the weather won't allow it anymore.
"We could be freezing to death right now."
At 10 p.m., the kitchen TV goes off. Those are the rules.
"It's in, eat, bed," Cox explains. "We don't encourage a lot of socializing."
One by one, the kids trickle off to the dorms. Some giggle or whisper to one another in the dark. There's almost a summer-camp feel to the place. All but one of the 16 beds are taken.
Reinhart collects the teens' clothing to do laundry overnight. During the wee hours, she catches up on paperwork, or does homework for her correspondence social work program.
Upstairs, Marek Szmidt and Kathryn McInroy are on the job with SkY, or Skills for Youth, a long-term residential program for teens ages 15 to 17 who are ready for stability. Szmidt, 25, and McInroy, 21, help the kids make and achieve goals -- school, work, counselling -- and facilitate reconciliation with parents, if possible. In exchange, the kids do chores, and abide by certain rules.
SkY is a more structured environment, but Szmidt says the work remains taxing.
"Dealing with one high-needs teenager is one thing," he says. "Dealing with 12 is another."
"Sometimes we see kids here who are here through no fault of their own," McInroy adds. "Parents who've said, 'See ya later, I'm done with you.' And it's easy to see, this could be anyone."
She says it's important to distance oneself from the work. "Everyone laughs and says I have a black heart," she says. "I'm not an emotional person. When I leave here, I leave here, and I leave things here 99 per cent of the time."
Szmidt says his job is gratifying, though the rewarding moments are rare.
"There are many days you don't see any results," he says.
Cautley admires the staff who work the shelter's front lines, but she doesn't envy them.
"I scratch my head because I sure as heck wouldn't want to do it. It's heartbreaking.
"But the kids have a little success, and it's so rewarding. Like someone who's been dry for two months. That's huge."
Those rewards are what keep outreach worker Quena Sanchez, 24, motivated. She takes crisis calls, and counsels youth on the streets, some of whom have left the shelter programs because they're too old.
Before her job started, Sanchez's mentality towards street kids was "oh my God, are they ever scary." Those views have since changed.
"I'm amazed at how resilient they are," she says. "It's a hard life, and they're very brave."
Being young, Sanchez says, is an advantage. Not only do the kids connect with her, but her own memories of hard times as a teen are still fresh. Sanchez, a Guatemalan immigrant, had trouble fitting in and suffered through her parents' divorce.
"A lot of it hits home," she says "A lot of things they've gone through, I've gone through."
At 6:45 a.m., the lights flick on in the dorm. It is still dark outside.
"C'mon guys, beautiful day," says Michael Becker, better known as Doc, dropping a basket of freshly laundered clothes. "Don't waste it."
Some kids sit up straight away. Others continue to slumber under their quilts. Many are wearing borrowed pyjamas; a few have slept in their clothes and coats.
Reinhart rubs her eyes. Like the teens, she is tired, sipping on her second cup of Earl Grey.
"I'd be happier if I wasn't working night shift all the time," she says. "But I haven't adjusted yet. On the days I work, that's all I do. I just work and sleep."
Ghost and Twitch know the morning routine. They hop out of their beds, strip off the sheets, put on fresh ones and head to the kitchen.
The smell of toast and coffee wafts through the air. U of A student Jennifer Anderson, 24, supervises at breakfast. She's chipper, telling the kids about her Spice Girls Halloween costume.
Several kids sit at the table in silence, listening. Nearby, a line-up is forming for the women's shower.
"How many girls? Eight?" Anderson asks. "Oh, man, I'm going to have to be the mean one. I'll give them 10 minutes each."
Homogenized milk, dry cereal, bread and condiments make up the morning menu. Twitch slathers her toast with jam. Ghost pours his milk. A new girl with a cast on her left leg munches on Cheerios. She broke her foot in a fight.
The guy who brought the bag of cans slouches in his seat, sipping coffee. He turns to Anderson.
"Guess what this is?" He points to a mark on the top of his hand.
"Do I want to know?" Anderson says.
"It's a crack pipe burn." He laughs.
Anderson says later it's frustrating when the kids talk about drugs, sex, or fighting.
Reinhart says it's just as frustrating "when they leave and you never hear about them again."
In the office, Doc is on "check-out" duty. He asks each kid what they'll be doing for the day. Hanging out at the library. Job-hunting. School. Working at a temp agency. Some have no plans.
Doc offers positive suggestions. But he is firm, too, refusing to let them off easy. After 21 years on the job, Doc is a veteran in shelter work. Still, "it's daily dilemmas with the kids. What is right? I feel like I'm playing poker," he says.
Each teen gets a lunch and bus ticket. "Sandwich? Muffin? Juice? Pear or apple?" Doc drops the items into brown bags.
"Do you have gloves?" a teen asks.
Doc says younger staff come to the job with messianic ambitions of saving people. He cautions them against those delusions.
"I try to get them out of that thinking," he says. "We can help the kids. They have to save themselves."
Doc's wisdom, realism and humour make him a favourite with staff and clients alike. He wants the kids to succeed but remains pragmatic about the challenges they face. "Whatever is, is right," says the Alexander Pope quote pinned on his office bulletin board.
Shelter work, he says, is a paradox:
"In some ways it's totally meaningless but we have to find meaning," he says. "We can't be defeated."
By 8 a.m., the kids are out on the streets of Edmonton. Reinhart's shift is coming to an end.
"I've had a lot of jobs in customer service, and at the end of the day, I feel like all I've done is get people coffee." She wrinkles up her nose. "That's not very fulfilling."
ewithey@thejournal.canwest.com
Read Liz's blog at www.edmontonjournal.com
YOU ARE HOMELESS IF YOU:
- live on the streets
- live permanently on unsuitable premises
- are about to lose your residence or income support, or are to be discharged from an institution
Source: Edmonton Housing Trust Fund
EDMONTON'S HOMELESS, ON OCT. 17/06
- the homeless numbered 2,618, up 19 per cent from '04;
- two-thirds were absolute homeless (no housing alternatives).
The rest were sheltered homeless (live in emergency shelters)
- 678 were aged 17 to 30
Source: 2006 Count of Homeless Persons in Edmonton
MAIN CAUSES OF YOUTH HOMELESSNESS
- poor personal choices
- drugs / alcohol,
- family
- criminal activity
Source for stats: 2006 Survey Homeless Youth in Edmonton
221 BEDS FOR AGES 21 AND YOUNGER
- Hope Mission Youth Shelter
- Inner City Youth Housing Project
- Youth Emergency Shelter Society
- Safe House, Catholic Social Services
442 BEDS FOR AGES 18 AND UP
- YMCA
- George Spady Centre
- Herb Jamieson Centre
- Women's Emergency Accommodation Centre
Top 3 coping mechanisms for homeless youth:
- Friends
- Music
- Drugs
© The Edmonton Journal 2006
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