Recipients Adapt to Welfare Reform

Ask Bernice, a mother of three who immigrated from Costa Rica six years ago, how she plans to celebrate Christmas this year, and her voice trembles.

"I don't know what I'll do," the Somerville resident responds hesitantly.

In eight short months, the first wave of Massachusetts welfare recipients subject to time limits--including Bernice--will be kicked off the rolls. During any five-year period, the state now provides only two years of cash benefits. For those on the dole since the law was enacted on Dec. 1, 1996, time is running out.

Bernice, 43, has been forced to plan for a career, a way to earn her own money once the state turns off the government spigot.

In anticipation of the time limit and with the guidance of her Department of Transitional Assistance (DTA) caseworker, Bernice has made plans to become a licensed child care provider. Upon completion of an 11-hour course offered through the Child Care Resource Center (CCRC), a day care advocacy group based in Cambridge, Bernice can babysit up to six children in her home.

Bernice has received transportation reimbursements for getting to and from the CCRC, money for after-school day care and a waiver for the $65 child care training fee.

"The system has definitely worked in her favor," says Bernice's DTA caseworker. "Welfare recipients have a responsibility to make better lives for themselves and [Bernice] is working towards that."

Yet uncertainty lingers. Are people like Bernice going to succeed? The jury is still out on the efficacy of welfare reform, but everyone from politicians to policy wonks, caseworkers to recipients is throwing in his two cents.

One common point of agreement holds true: Life on welfare is a delicately stacked house of cards. Any single crisis may topple a family's struggle to leave welfare.

Like their counterparts from California to Florida in tight or slack job markets, Cambridge area recipients face numerous obstacles to finding and keeping a job--among them quality child care, comprehensive health care and protection from domestic violence.

Federal welfare reform is forcing recipients like Bernice to confront these challenges and leaving states to deal with the details.

National Rules, State Provisions

Even Bernice, who will be prodded into the work force, says reform was needed.

"A lot of people stay [on welfare] too long," she admits. "They don't do anything."

On August 22, 1996, Congress passed and President Clinton signed into law sweeping changes to address that very problem. The catch-word of the Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity

Reconciliation Act is "work" and work is whatwelfare recipients will have to do.

All Massachusetts recipients are required towork or perform community service for 20 hourseach week. Those still at home are eitherpregnant, disabled or have a child younger thanthree months. Those who don't comply simply stopseeing the monthly checks.

The act shifted control over welfare spendingfrom the federal government to state legislatures.From Honolulu to Augusta, states equipped with ageneral road map from Washington have blazed theirown paths in reforming welfare.

For fiscal year 1998, the Bay State's DTAreceived $459 million in a Temporary Assistancefor Needy Families block grant.

Federal law now prohibits the DTA from usingthe money to support individuals for more thanfive years in a life-time. Still, states canexempt as much as 20 percent of its case load andthe DTA plans on using its full exemption.

The 1996 federal reforms were less a definitivedirective than a green light for states tocontinue their own tinkering. Even as statestightened the screws on work requirements, manyset in place the support structures critical tosuccessful employment.

Illinois pledged $100 million in state money toprovide child care for all low-income workers,regardless of their status on welfare.Massachusetts offers a similar arrangement wherenon-welfare low-income families receive a slidingscale subsidy for child care. In New Jersey, thestate recognized that entry-level jobs may be infar-away locales and established a $3.7 milliontransportation fund.

But the gentler supporting hands can't mask thehard push towards work.

In an effort to nudge recipients into the workforce, Massachusetts imposed a two-year limit onbenefits (within a five-year span), stricter thanfederal guidelines but not as harsh as the 12month maximum in Texas.

In the Cambridge area, however, it's clear thatself-sufficiency doesn't come just by turning offthe state spigot.

Caring for the Children

Kristine Kirkland, 5, squirms onto her mother'slap in the Davis Square DTA office and deliversher most pathetic puppy-dog expression. She wantsan audience for her reading of Cat in the Hat, andshe wants it now. As her mother explains theimportance of day care for single parents, littleKristine plows ahead with her impassionedrendition of the Dr. Seuss classic.

"My children mean the world to me," KimKirkland, mother of three, says while patting downa few stray strands of Kristine's hair.

Kirkland schedules her life around caring forher kids, making it impossible to hold a normaljob.

Fortunately, Kirkland's employers at Home Depotallow her to mold her hours around her children'slives, an unusual arrangement that ends whenKristine finishes half-day kindergarten in June.

Because Kristine's kindergarten class meetsonly in the mornings, Kirkland had to locate anafternoon day care center. Every weekday at 8:20am, Kirkland drops Kristine off at the EdgerleyKindergarten and then drives to her first shift atHome Depot. She leaves work to pick up Kristine at11 a.m. and plays with her until the YMCA day carecenter opens at 3 p.m. Kirkland returns to HomeDepot for her second shift which lasts until 7.

Despite the hassle, Kirkland feels fortunate toeven have subsidized day care.

"I'm very happy with day care," Kirkland says."It's helped me tremendously."

But not everyone enjoys Kirkland's benefits.

In Cambridge, 224 welfare families receive freechild care and 184 families are in transitionalchild care.

Still, 242 income-eligible Cambridge familiesremain on the waiting list, and over 13,000families across Massachusetts are in the sameboat.

For these families self-sufficiency is harderto achieve.

"Child care is absolutely essential," says JaneA. Norton of Cambridge Head Start Day Care."People can't leave their house if they don't havesomeone capable and trustworthy taking care oftheir children. Parents need to work to surviveand they can't do that without day care."

Got Health Care?

It's a Sunday afternoon typical of suburbanAmerica. Children play baseball on the street,twenty-somethings cruise around the Somervilleneighborhood in their parents' cars andgrandparents slowly sip lemonade on their porches.

"This is family," says Margaret, a singlewelfare mother, as she waves her arm before thebusy scene. "Everyone knows everyone else and weall grew up together. Now we have kids and ourkids play with each other."

When Margaret fell on hard times, her familyand neighbors advised her to seek public help atthe DTA office in Davis Square.

"I've worked full-time since I was fourteen,"Margaret says. "I never thought I'd end up as partof the [welfare] system. I was brought up to work,not take. I almost had to wear dark glasses and ahat to walk inside."

Margaret suffers from chronic brain seizures,crippling her ability to work. Her first attack,in 1995, came the day before her son's birthdayparty at Chuck E. Cheese.

"My mother found me face-down on the floor,unconscious," Margaret recalls. "I woke up atMount Auburn Hospital with two black eyes and anose bigger than Pinocchio's."

Margaret supervised 22 screaming four-year-oldsthe next day, but the seizures eventuallyprevented her from working a full-time job.

"It happens anytime, anyplace," she says. "Ican't work because all my numbers are inverted nowand I can't tell my 3's from my 5's and 8's."

Sporting a silver MedicAlert bracelet on herright wrist, Margaret talks hopefully about howher 11 medications might contain her seizures,depression and headaches. Almost everything ispaid by MassHealth, the state Medicaid program.

Welfare recipients are automatically eligiblefor the program. It also covers people moving offwelfare for up to a year.

MassHealth frees Margaret from the burden ofcostly co-payments for frequent ambulance ridesand countless office visits, and she only has topay 50 cents per medication each month. Her sonhas complete medical and dental coverage.

"MassHealth is absolutely fabulous," Margaretraves. "If all parts of the system failed and Icould choose only one program, I'd stay withhealth insurance."

That's the kind of popular support drivingstate legislators to expand MassHealth coverage.In July, guidelines were loosened to includepeople above the federal poverty line.

"We've expanded to help working families,"MassHealth spokesperson Sharon Torgerson says."We're trying to find as many unsubscribed peopleto get in our program as possible.

"We're saying `Come on down!' and the boys overin welfare are saying `Go away!' Torgerson laughs.

MassHealth opened its arms and welcomed anadditional 106,000 people, bringing the total toalmost 800,000. Some revenue from the recent 25cent cigarette tax hike will fund MassHealth's$3.4 billion budget, which is bank rolled byfederal and state money.

Beat Downs at Home

The pain etched on Jennifer's face alone couldhave told her wrenching story. Words, thoughinadequate, filled in the all-too-familiardetails.

As a child, Jennifer's twin sister and motherlived as migrants in Boston, never staying morethan a year at a single place. When Jennifer was14, her mother did not want anything to do withthe children anymore and left them at theirestranged father's home. At 15, she met someonewho said he loved her.

"I never felt loved by anyone before," Jennifersays, slowly shaking her head. "But he just wantedto own me."

At sweet 16, Jennifer got pregnant.

"I did it on purpose because I thought having ababy would solve all my problems," she says. "Itjust made things worse."

"[My boyfriend] beat me all the time. He wasemotionally and verbally abusive. He made me sitaround the house all day. I had no friends. Icouldn't go out to parties. I never had a teenagelife."

Jennifer became depressed and was in and out ofhospitals for two years.

"It eats you up inside," she cries softly. "Ifelt worthless, hopeless, ugly and stupid. I justhated myself."

Despite her trials, Jennifer has never been onwelfare, though she teeters precariously close tothe brink.

Jennifer is not alone. Many abused low-incomewomen are in similarly dire straights.

"Some women stay in abusive situations ratherthan face the possibility of welfare," says KateCloud, director of Respond, a resource center forbattered women. (The Hotline number is 623-5900.)

"Being in an abusive situation directlysabotages a woman's efforts to get off welfare."

Abusive partners do everything in their powerto prevent financial independence, says Cloud. Theabusive partner might beat a victim so badly thatthe bruises become too embarrassing to show inpublic. Others verbally harass victims so thattheir self-confidence is destroyed.

A 1997 Massachusetts study found that 65percent of women on welfare were physically abusedin their lifetime and 20 percent reported anattack within the last year.

Bay State DTA caseworkers recently begandomestic violence sensitivity training, a six-hourprogram developed by the Mass. Coalition ofBattered Women's Service Groups.

To pigeon-hole and limit the challenges ofwelfare recipients into three square boxes labeled"child care," "health care" and "domesticviolence" would be a grave mistake. But the BayState is optimistic about helping people one byone.

"Our philosophy is that all are curable," saysDTA spokesperson Dick Powers.

Family names of several women in thisarticle have been omitted to protect theirprivacy.

This Week

First in a two-part series, today's articleexplores several of the obstacles facing people onwelfare.

Next Week

Second in a two-part series, next week'sarticle will profile programs that support welfarerecipients.CrimsonHector U. VelazquezAIDING THE TRANSITION: JANE A. NORTONis the director of parental involvement at theCambridge Head Start Day Care Center.

Reconciliation Act is "work" and work is whatwelfare recipients will have to do.

All Massachusetts recipients are required towork or perform community service for 20 hourseach week. Those still at home are eitherpregnant, disabled or have a child younger thanthree months. Those who don't comply simply stopseeing the monthly checks.

The act shifted control over welfare spendingfrom the federal government to state legislatures.From Honolulu to Augusta, states equipped with ageneral road map from Washington have blazed theirown paths in reforming welfare.

For fiscal year 1998, the Bay State's DTAreceived $459 million in a Temporary Assistancefor Needy Families block grant.

Federal law now prohibits the DTA from usingthe money to support individuals for more thanfive years in a life-time. Still, states canexempt as much as 20 percent of its case load andthe DTA plans on using its full exemption.

The 1996 federal reforms were less a definitivedirective than a green light for states tocontinue their own tinkering. Even as statestightened the screws on work requirements, manyset in place the support structures critical tosuccessful employment.

Illinois pledged $100 million in state money toprovide child care for all low-income workers,regardless of their status on welfare.Massachusetts offers a similar arrangement wherenon-welfare low-income families receive a slidingscale subsidy for child care. In New Jersey, thestate recognized that entry-level jobs may be infar-away locales and established a $3.7 milliontransportation fund.

But the gentler supporting hands can't mask thehard push towards work.

In an effort to nudge recipients into the workforce, Massachusetts imposed a two-year limit onbenefits (within a five-year span), stricter thanfederal guidelines but not as harsh as the 12month maximum in Texas.

In the Cambridge area, however, it's clear thatself-sufficiency doesn't come just by turning offthe state spigot.

Caring for the Children

Kristine Kirkland, 5, squirms onto her mother'slap in the Davis Square DTA office and deliversher most pathetic puppy-dog expression. She wantsan audience for her reading of Cat in the Hat, andshe wants it now. As her mother explains theimportance of day care for single parents, littleKristine plows ahead with her impassionedrendition of the Dr. Seuss classic.

"My children mean the world to me," KimKirkland, mother of three, says while patting downa few stray strands of Kristine's hair.

Kirkland schedules her life around caring forher kids, making it impossible to hold a normaljob.

Fortunately, Kirkland's employers at Home Depotallow her to mold her hours around her children'slives, an unusual arrangement that ends whenKristine finishes half-day kindergarten in June.

Because Kristine's kindergarten class meetsonly in the mornings, Kirkland had to locate anafternoon day care center. Every weekday at 8:20am, Kirkland drops Kristine off at the EdgerleyKindergarten and then drives to her first shift atHome Depot. She leaves work to pick up Kristine at11 a.m. and plays with her until the YMCA day carecenter opens at 3 p.m. Kirkland returns to HomeDepot for her second shift which lasts until 7.

Despite the hassle, Kirkland feels fortunate toeven have subsidized day care.

"I'm very happy with day care," Kirkland says."It's helped me tremendously."

But not everyone enjoys Kirkland's benefits.

In Cambridge, 224 welfare families receive freechild care and 184 families are in transitionalchild care.

Still, 242 income-eligible Cambridge familiesremain on the waiting list, and over 13,000families across Massachusetts are in the sameboat.

For these families self-sufficiency is harderto achieve.

"Child care is absolutely essential," says JaneA. Norton of Cambridge Head Start Day Care."People can't leave their house if they don't havesomeone capable and trustworthy taking care oftheir children. Parents need to work to surviveand they can't do that without day care."

Got Health Care?

It's a Sunday afternoon typical of suburbanAmerica. Children play baseball on the street,twenty-somethings cruise around the Somervilleneighborhood in their parents' cars andgrandparents slowly sip lemonade on their porches.

"This is family," says Margaret, a singlewelfare mother, as she waves her arm before thebusy scene. "Everyone knows everyone else and weall grew up together. Now we have kids and ourkids play with each other."

When Margaret fell on hard times, her familyand neighbors advised her to seek public help atthe DTA office in Davis Square.

"I've worked full-time since I was fourteen,"Margaret says. "I never thought I'd end up as partof the [welfare] system. I was brought up to work,not take. I almost had to wear dark glasses and ahat to walk inside."

Margaret suffers from chronic brain seizures,crippling her ability to work. Her first attack,in 1995, came the day before her son's birthdayparty at Chuck E. Cheese.

"My mother found me face-down on the floor,unconscious," Margaret recalls. "I woke up atMount Auburn Hospital with two black eyes and anose bigger than Pinocchio's."

Margaret supervised 22 screaming four-year-oldsthe next day, but the seizures eventuallyprevented her from working a full-time job.

"It happens anytime, anyplace," she says. "Ican't work because all my numbers are inverted nowand I can't tell my 3's from my 5's and 8's."

Sporting a silver MedicAlert bracelet on herright wrist, Margaret talks hopefully about howher 11 medications might contain her seizures,depression and headaches. Almost everything ispaid by MassHealth, the state Medicaid program.

Welfare recipients are automatically eligiblefor the program. It also covers people moving offwelfare for up to a year.

MassHealth frees Margaret from the burden ofcostly co-payments for frequent ambulance ridesand countless office visits, and she only has topay 50 cents per medication each month. Her sonhas complete medical and dental coverage.

"MassHealth is absolutely fabulous," Margaretraves. "If all parts of the system failed and Icould choose only one program, I'd stay withhealth insurance."

That's the kind of popular support drivingstate legislators to expand MassHealth coverage.In July, guidelines were loosened to includepeople above the federal poverty line.

"We've expanded to help working families,"MassHealth spokesperson Sharon Torgerson says."We're trying to find as many unsubscribed peopleto get in our program as possible.

"We're saying `Come on down!' and the boys overin welfare are saying `Go away!' Torgerson laughs.

MassHealth opened its arms and welcomed anadditional 106,000 people, bringing the total toalmost 800,000. Some revenue from the recent 25cent cigarette tax hike will fund MassHealth's$3.4 billion budget, which is bank rolled byfederal and state money.

Beat Downs at Home

The pain etched on Jennifer's face alone couldhave told her wrenching story. Words, thoughinadequate, filled in the all-too-familiardetails.

As a child, Jennifer's twin sister and motherlived as migrants in Boston, never staying morethan a year at a single place. When Jennifer was14, her mother did not want anything to do withthe children anymore and left them at theirestranged father's home. At 15, she met someonewho said he loved her.

"I never felt loved by anyone before," Jennifersays, slowly shaking her head. "But he just wantedto own me."

At sweet 16, Jennifer got pregnant.

"I did it on purpose because I thought having ababy would solve all my problems," she says. "Itjust made things worse."

"[My boyfriend] beat me all the time. He wasemotionally and verbally abusive. He made me sitaround the house all day. I had no friends. Icouldn't go out to parties. I never had a teenagelife."

Jennifer became depressed and was in and out ofhospitals for two years.

"It eats you up inside," she cries softly. "Ifelt worthless, hopeless, ugly and stupid. I justhated myself."

Despite her trials, Jennifer has never been onwelfare, though she teeters precariously close tothe brink.

Jennifer is not alone. Many abused low-incomewomen are in similarly dire straights.

"Some women stay in abusive situations ratherthan face the possibility of welfare," says KateCloud, director of Respond, a resource center forbattered women. (The Hotline number is 623-5900.)

"Being in an abusive situation directlysabotages a woman's efforts to get off welfare."

Abusive partners do everything in their powerto prevent financial independence, says Cloud. Theabusive partner might beat a victim so badly thatthe bruises become too embarrassing to show inpublic. Others verbally harass victims so thattheir self-confidence is destroyed.

A 1997 Massachusetts study found that 65percent of women on welfare were physically abusedin their lifetime and 20 percent reported anattack within the last year.

Bay State DTA caseworkers recently begandomestic violence sensitivity training, a six-hourprogram developed by the Mass. Coalition ofBattered Women's Service Groups.

To pigeon-hole and limit the challenges ofwelfare recipients into three square boxes labeled"child care," "health care" and "domesticviolence" would be a grave mistake. But the BayState is optimistic about helping people one byone.

"Our philosophy is that all are curable," saysDTA spokesperson Dick Powers.

Family names of several women in thisarticle have been omitted to protect theirprivacy.

This Week

First in a two-part series, today's articleexplores several of the obstacles facing people onwelfare.

Next Week

Second in a two-part series, next week'sarticle will profile programs that support welfarerecipients.CrimsonHector U. VelazquezAIDING THE TRANSITION: JANE A. NORTONis the director of parental involvement at theCambridge Head Start Day Care Center.