S
ingle
mothers receiving welfare who are trying to better their lives by
earning a two- or four-year college degrees recently got a lifeline
in their continuing struggle to stay afloat. But it appears their
time is running out.
Congress
extended the current welfare program on March 15 for three months,
staving off the latest attempt by House Republicans to make it more
difficult for low-income single mothers to take college and community
college classes. The goal of Republican welfare reformers is “work
first,” meaning that jobs—no matter how dead-end and how
low-wage—are preferable to education and training. (Welfare
has never paid college tuition; at issue is whether recipients can
enroll in classes or must enroll in work programs and for how many
hours a week.)
Shutting
down educational and vocational opportunities for struggling single
mothers seems particularly perverse—welfare advocates call
it a surefire way to drive low-income families permanently into
the ranks of the working poor. “We should be promoting post-
secondary education for low-income women,” says Jennifer Tucker,
vice president of the Center for Women Policy Studies in Washington,
DC. “It’s poverty prevention.”
In
January, House Republicans introduced legislation that would reduce
the amount of time a welfare recipient could attend a full-time
vocational program from a year to four months every two years. (Welfare
benefits expire after five years.) At the same time the bill would
ratchet up the time spent in work or work-related activities from
30 to 40 hours weekly, no longer exempting parents with children
under 6 years old.
Work
requirements have been in place since the sweeping welfare reforms
of 1996, but 49 states have modified them so that vocational training
and, less commonly, college could fulfill part or all of the 30
work-hours currently required, according to the Center for Women
Policy Studies.
These
modifications were possible under the 1996 law, but, in contrast,
the recent Republican proposal allows no such flexibility. Of the
40 hours mandated, 24 would go toward work only, which means that
all but one state conceivably would have to scale back its post-secondary
initiatives.
In
fairness, the other 16 hours of the mandated 40 hours could include
vocational training. However, it’s hard to imagine that a single
mother living in poverty would be able to pay for after-hours babysitting
(or even find it). Scheduling classes around the 24-hour minimum
work schedule adds one more factor to the already-demanding equation
of balancing child care, daycare, and studies—and that’s
not counting any personal hardships that led to welfare dependency,
such as illness or domestic abuse. Research shows that single parents
already take much longer than average to complete a two- or four-year
program.
“In
a real-world context, you can’t go to your prospective employer
and say, ‘I need 24 hours of work and they can’t conflict
with my class schedule’,” explains Julie Strawn, senior
policy analyst at the Center for Law and Social Policy (CLASP).
States will only be able to create so many work-study programs allowing
a flexible work schedule, she says.
The
House legislation would mean the end of extended full-time vocational
training for single mothers while on welfare and a much-reduced
chance of completing part-time studies or job training. The bill
that would implement these changes, HR 240, has a good chance of
becoming law, Strawn and other experts believe, because earlier
versions of it have passed in the House in 2002 and 2003. Also,
the bill is in sync with the Bush administration’s welfare
policies.
The
Senate has not made comparable progress on its own legislation,
leaving Congress little option but to extend the 1996 welfare provisions
under Temporary Aid to Needy Families (TANF), which first expired
in 2002 and has been living off extensions. But the issue of work
first versus training and education can’t be avoided forever.
For
the welfare-dependent single mothers who would be affected, college
is a means to long-term economic self-sufficiency—a way out
of $7-an-hour jobs with no health benefits for the rest of their
lives. But they also see the achievement of skills and education
as the chance to set a powerful example of empowerment for their
children. As documented in the recent book of essays,
Shut Out:
Low Income Mothers and Higher Education in Post-Welfare America
,
higher education is the path to self-respect, a zealously guarded
goal for many welfare recipients enrolled in college or occupational
training programs.
Lovida
Bondoc, a single mother of three in Irvine, California is a case
in point. After an abusive marriage in her late teens and early
20s, “My self esteem was destroyed,” she remembers. “I
felt I was crushed and I had nothing to show for it…. I felt
school was my only hope.”
In
five years, education has helped Bondoc transform her life from
a high school dropout to a college senior majoring in political
science. She couldn’t have done it, she says, without receiving
welfare during the early part of her education. (Her ex-husband
was eventually forced to pay $800 month child support which covers
less than half of her rent and family expenses.)
But
welfare is only one part of the story as it doesn’t explain
the considerable drive and courage it took for Bondoc to flee her
marriage, earn her GED, care for her kids, take college classes,
and squeeze in odd jobs like cleaning houses, temping, and babysitting.
Bondoc, who will graduate from the University of California, Irvine
in June, is pursuing a teaching credential. She hopes to find a
job in a school serving disadvantaged students. “I came from
a poor neighborhood,” says Bondoc. “I know what it’s
like to be an immigrant.”
In
some ways, Bondoc’s situation is atypical. For one, her children’s
father can now be counted on to pay child support. In addition,
low-income single mothers more often seek vocational training than
a four-year degree. This is because states allowing long-term higher
education define it to mean a program with a focus on job skills.
“In
this context, post-secondary education is not typically art history,
but one or two years toward an occupational certificate,” Strawn
says. “Long-term training means occupational studies at the
community college level. We’re talking about LPNs, health,
and office work.”
These
professions, while they may not open as many doors as a bachelor’s
degree, still represent a step up for low-wage earners. Research
proves the economic payoff of a two-year program (www. centerwomenpolicy.org).
Meanwhile, a four-year degree is practically an antidote to welfare
dependency, research shows.
It
has been a hard slog for educationally ambitious single mothers
receiving public assistance since welfare was reformed in 1996.
Even though states have preserved access to job training or college
in varying degrees, it’s gotten much more difficult for women
in these programs. Confusion over the new rules ushered in by the
1996 reforms, the aggressively work-first attitude of welfare caseworkers,
and stricter work-hour minimums have taken a toll.
A
recent study reported a 46 percent drop in enrollment of welfare
recipients in 15 Massachusetts community colleges between 1995 and
1997, for example. The enrollment of welfare recipients in the City
University of New York dropped 77 percent, according to a 2001 study
(www.centerwomen policy.org).
Besides
chronicling the uphill battle of welfare recipients fighting to
stay enrolled in college or community colleges,
Shut Out
offers some forward-looking recommendations. Colleges need to make
it easier for time-crunched single parents by offering compressed
semesters and providing more classes at nontraditional times, the
book argues. In addition, financial aid should be restructured so
that it doesn’t favor enrollment on a full-time basis, which
is increasingly not an option for welfare recipients.
Meanwhile,
work-first advocates in the House hope this most recent extension
of current welfare policy will be the last and they have plenty
of time, will, and support to press their agenda. Opponents are
hoping that states will want to avoid the proposed law’s new
demands and that the Senate will favor less harsh measures. “The
House is so conservative that the Senate is where we’re going
to put our time,” says Tucker.
Amy DePaul is
a writer and college instructor living in Irvine, California. Her
articles have appeared in the
Washington Post
and many other newspapers. She writes largely about women’s health
and daycare.
