A CHANCE AT A BETTER FUTURE
How a local program is changing lives
At first glance, the lives of James Sengiyalemye, Aye-Lama Bah and Marina Thomson couldn’t be more different.
James is a refugee from Burundi who is struggling to find his place in Ottawa, the city he’s called home for just one year. Aye-Lama is a solid student who, despite living in social housing with her single mother and six siblings, has plans to work at the United Nations one day. Marina suffers from depression and hasn’t been able to attend school on a daily basis for years.
If you look closer, though, you’ll find they have a lot in common. They’ve all had challenging upbringings and complicated family lives. Money is an issue. But what really connects them is not where they’ve come from, or even where they are right now. It’s where they could go, after getting a “tap on the shoulder” from the Youth Futures program.
It began with a photograph. About five years ago, Aaron Burry looked at the annual group picture of the City of Ottawa’s summer students and saw a sea of white faces staring back at him.
“It didn’t reflect the makeup of the city at all,” says the city’s general manager of community and social services. “Where was everyone else?”
That realization jump-started a discussion about what keeps new Canadians from landing these resumé-boosting jobs.
On the practical side were the skills and training that many newcomers either didn’t know they needed, or couldn’t afford, or both — from first aid and CPR requirements to police checks and a professional-looking resumé.
But what these kids were missing most was an advocate.
Burry recalls how some middleclass parents “would come right into our office” demanding summer jobs for their kids. Those heavy-handed tactics didn’t necessarily work, but it drove home to Burry that some students didn’t have parents who could help them navigate the system.
“Throughout my life, there was somebody who tapped me on the shoulder and they offered me something,” says Burry.
“The thing is, with these kids, nobody’s offering it.”
So he decided to see if he could. Building on a pilot program started by two University of Ottawa professors called Youth University, Burry got the city involved by adding first aid training sessions and, in 2010, a summer employment component for the students, because “for these kids, a job isn’t a nice-to-have, it’s a gotta-have.” In 2013, law firm Borden Ladner Gervais was the first private firm to offer a fully-subsidized job to a participant. Over the years, other organizations have joined the cause, chief among them Ottawa Community Housing, which helps to manage the complex partnership that sustains Youth Futures. Today, the program runs between late February and early June and sees successful applicants aged 16 to 21 attend day-long leadership and job-training sessions. They visit universities and colleges to get a better understanding of how the institutions work, and they are virtually guaranteed a summer job.
The job is the big draw. For the 2014 program, 350 people applied for just 75 spots, although far more — as many as 250 every year — would likely qualify.
Being accepted into Youth Futures basically boils down to two things: the applicant has to be lowincome and willing to make a major time commitment over several months.
Some apply after hearing about the program in their communities, but most are referred.
“All the guidance counsellors know us,” says Julia Faulkner, the co-ordinator for Youth Futures and its only full-time employee.
She knows all the city’s mentors, youth leaders, social workers and community agency volunteers, too.
James, Aye-Lama and Marina all found their way to the program through others. A volunteer at the Catholic Centre for Immigrants thought James would benefit from the socialization the program can provide, while the leader of the community resource centre for the Rochester Heights social housing complex where AyeLama lives put her onto it. Marina’s high-school supervisor snookered her into joining the program.
“He sort of mentioned it, but next thing I knew, he’d sent in an application,” Marina remembers. “I was sort of freaked out.”
Less than half make it to the interviews, which take place in early February and are key to discovering who might benefit most from the program.
“We ask them how much their parents make, and they have no idea,” says Faulkner. “Most of them don’t see themselves as low income. So during the interview we try to get to know about their lives. Where do they live? What do their parents do? Are they living with just one parent? It quickly becomes apparent to us which are the more vulnerable students.”
Perhaps none is more vulnerable than James, a soft-spoken 19-yearold who is quick to flash a smile that would melt ice.
He spent most of his childhood in an orphanage in Burundi after his parents were killed in the ethnicbased violence that’s plagued the southeastern African country for decades. In 2005, when even the orphanage became too dangerous, James says the nuns drove him and his six “brothers and sisters” — some are actually cousins — to the UN depot for displaced persons at the border of Tanzania and Malawi. They spent eight years in a refugee camp in Malawi. He and his siblings arrived in Ottawa last year, after the federal government sponsored all seven to come to Canada. They live in a subsidized, two-bedroom apartment, although James doesn’t see that as a hardship.
“To be separated, we don’t feel good,” says James, who carries his phone number — or what he hopes is his phone number — on a scrap of paper so can always stay in touch.
Like James, Aye-Lama’s cheery disposition belies her difficult past.
Born in Guinea, Aye-Lama came to Canada as a toddler when her diplomat father was posted here in 2001. But when he was called back home by his government about five years later, Aye-Lama’s mother refused to leave.
As a girl, she had been subjected to female genital mutilation, still widely practised in Guinea, and refused to expose her daughters to that risk. In fact, Aye-Lama suffers some mild paralysis in her right arm due to birth complications caused by her mother’s mutilation.
“It’s why I’m left-handed,” the likeable 16-year-old says matterof-factly. “I had to give up on dance and volleyball.”
The family was granted refugee status on humanitarian grounds, then bounced from shelter to shelter for a few years before landing at Rochester Heights. Her home there is furnished with remnants of her previously middle-class life, although her bedroom holds little more than a bed. She’s hoping to get a desk, although admits to often doing her homework at the library because it’s too noisy at home.
Unlike James and Aye-Lama, Marina is something of an anomaly in Youth Futures in that she’s white and her family’s Canadian roots go back generations. Still, she hasn’t had it easy.
When she was 12, her parents moved with Marina and her younger brother to a trailer in Smiths Falls. They had hoped to build a house, but her father’s health problems and other obstacles got in the way.
Two years later, her mother left. When her father couldn’t afford the trailer park fees anymore, he moved the kids and the family pets into an RV — with no electricity and no running water. Her brother went to live with their maternal grandparents in the Copeland Park area of Ottawa. Marina tried to tough it out.
Eventually, though, she too moved in with her grandparents. “I couldn’t compete with two dogs and two cats,” says Marina in an almost monotone voice that conveys a bone-dry sense of humour.
With her family life in disarray, Marina’s mental health also suffered. In Grade 6, she was diagnosed with anxiety disorder. By Grade 8, Marina was acing math, but was struggling with depression, which both her mother and grandmother battle.
“I couldn’t get out of bed,” says Marina. “I went to Grade 9 and it was OK at the start, but then sort of tanked. Same thing in Grade 10. I start off good and then life would get crazy.”
A turning point was being assigned to the Supervised Alternative Learning program at St. Mark High School. Each week, Marina meets there with a supervisor to hand in work she’s done at home and pick up new assignments.
She’s excited about going to Youth Futures, but more nervous than the other two. After all, she has trouble getting out of bed at the best of times, so how is she going to do it on a Saturday in the middle of winter?
The leadership sessions start in late February and almost immediately, the teens groan about having to get up early to take two — sometimes three — buses to get to the Sandy Hill Community Centre. Heavy snowfalls in March make many of them late.
Despite the grumbling, though, it becomes clear that most enjoy the weekend sessions. And why not? It’s education disguised as games and fun group exercises.
One of the early exercises in the English group is the DOPE Personality Test to give you an idea of the sort of leader you are: Dove, Owl, Peacock or Eagle. Not surprisingly, mild-mannered James is a dove, a team player who doesn’t like conflict. Marina finds that she is an owl – analytical and logical.
In one early session, the English group splits into four to draw their concepts of good and bad camp counsellors and office workers. The “bad camp staff” drawing includes a female staffer sunbathing in a bikini, which sparks a conversation about appropriate on-the-job attire. “How about a graphic T?” asks Derek McDonald, a group leader who the kids call Big Mac. Some think that would be OK, but Derek disagrees, and also rules out cut-off shorts, beer logos and low riders.
Like many teenagers, they have only a vaguely Dilbert-like notion of office work. They imagine a pen tucked into the shirt pocket, a necktie, and a briefcase large enough to be an overnight bag. Coffee figures prominently. (James insists on trying to like coffee as he’s heard “it can help you concentrate,” but to no avail.)
After a few weeks, it’s clear Youth Futures isn’t for everyone. One young man wants to attend, but gets part-time job on Saturdays, and his family needs the money.
Another makes a sports team that causes a scheduling conflict. Others simply don’t show up and are replaced with students on the waiting list. Over the course of the seven months, 11 students will drop out, so although 85 students are admitted throughout the year, only 74 graduate.
By the end of March Break, the program is wearing on even the most enthusiastic participants. While their friends spend the week sleeping in, they spend three days at St. Paul University where professors talk to them about everything from how a university works to how to apply for scholarships. That Saturday, at the youth employment centre on Catherine Street, they attend their vital resume-writing workshop.
Marina’s dad drives her to the session, where she promptly throws up in the parking lot and needs to go home. James shows up about 20 minutes late in his trademark red pants. Aye-Lama made it on time, but like most of the others, seems a bit zoned out. It’s been four consecutive days of lectures, after all.
But this is one of the most practical days in the program — providing templates for slick CVs. They deliver paper versions to their mentors for editing. (Marina says hers comes back “covered in red ink.”)
Sprinkled throughout the program are visits to local universities and Algonquin College, which serve two purposes.
The first is practical. The days are filled with information sessions to help the students demystify the entire university experience, from explaining how to apply to programs to hearing from a wide array of professors in various fields of study.
Aye-Lama is leaning toward University of Ottawa, but she’s also intrigued by Carleton University’s public affairs and policy management program. “It sounds pretty interesting,” she says. “I never even heard about that.”
Marina is blown away by Algonquin’s various mechanics-based programs. Her father’s a mechanic and she already loves working on engines — she’s been tinkering with a 1984 Honda Ascot she bought for $250.
She thinks of herself as “fidgety” and never could concentrate at school, but suddenly she can see herself at one of Algonquin’s hands-on programs.
“At times in the past couple of years, I thought I might not finish high school,” says Marina. “Now I’m going to try harder.”
The other goal of the school visits is to get students comfortable with the idea of being on a big campus.
“One of the things they see when they go to the universities and colleges is that it’s pretty diverse,” says Faulkner. “There are people of colour, women in hijabs. They can start to see themselves belonging there.”
Along with new aspirations, though, Youth Futures can deliver a dose of reality. “I had a dream to go to university,” says James. But while his English is improving immensely, he knows he struggles with writing and grammar.
“Going to college for me, it would be good. University, it’s not easy when you’re new to Canada. When English is not your first language, it is not easy.”
As May comes to an end, so do most of the Saturday leadership sessions. June is given over to studying for finals. Before they hit the books, however, students get their job placements, one of the days they’ve been looking forward to
James — who’s never been quite convinced he’d be getting a job — will be helping out as a camp counsellor and working in the office at the Catholic Centre for Immigrants, where up until a few weeks earlier, he was a client.
Hands-on Marina is assigned to the maintenance crew at Ottawa Community Housing, working mainly in the Foster Farm community.
Aye-Lama is “super happy” to be assigned the sole, coveted Borden Ladner Gervais law-firm job, even though she can’t remember the name of the company.
Aye-Lama isn’t quite sure what to expect working at BLG, and she’s a bit disappointed to be assigned to the mailroom. But she recovers when she realizes that it’s law students who work with the lawyers during the summer break “and they work super long hours.”
She’s a quick study and soon her supervisor is giving her assignments with little oversight.
“I’ve prepared documents that have gone to the Supreme Court,” she says proudly.
Another life lesson? Maybe a career in private practice isn’t for her.
“I always thought I really really wanted to be a lawyer, but now I don’t know,” she says.
“She’s a very enthusiastic person and I was impressed by a few things,” says BLG’s managing partner Marc Jolicoeur. “Her French and English are equally good, which is absolutely fantastic. But while she’d definitely benefit from a law degree, she’s really more interested in public policy than working in a law firm.”
The partner says he’s happy if the firm has been able to help Aye-Lama cross one possibility off her list.
James is transformed by his job at the Catholic Centre for Immigrants. Walking up Elgin Street leading a group of younger teens on an outing, the reserved young man looks and sounds like a leader. He keeps kids from straying off while simultaneously answering questions from others.
Jody Beeching, one of the centre’s youth program co-ordinators who has known James since his arrival in Canada, isn’t surprised.
“He’s someone who’s had to handle a lot of responsibility at a young age,” Beeching says. “He’s got a great work ethic.”
James quickly establishes a rapport with younger students who, like him, are recent immigrants. “People feel good to be around him,” says Beeching.
Unexpectedly, James also becomes the centre’s de facto interpreter. Because he speaks Swahili he’s called on to help communicate with new immigrants from East African countries where the language is common. The experience has James thinking he’d like to be a social worker one day.
Marina’s summer job does not go as smoothly.
One week in July, her mother was visiting Ottawa from her home in Perth and was out longer than expected. This set off panic and anxiety in Marina, which she recognizes “sounds like an overreaction to most people.”
Marina didn’t show up for work, and didn’t call in to explain.
“I didn’t have the phone number for my.supervisor, which was stupid.” Her mentor Hodan Jaamac, tracked Marina down, a key responsibility of all the mentors. (“Whenever someone doesn’t show, we’re right on it,” says Faulkner.)
“Hodan called and I cried for bit,” Marina says. “And then I got my shit together.”
Marina didn’t just weather the crisis, but rebounded and went on to enjoy the company of her co-workers and the tenants their maintenance team served.
“One woman came to thank me for painting over the graffiti, which was really nice,” says Marina. “I learned how such a small thing can make a big difference to someone.” Heading into the future A tap on the shoulder often isn’t a dramatic gesture, and so it is with Youth Futures. None of the participants’ lives have been magically turned around by the program — there are no fairy-tale endings here.
But it’s obvious that Youth Futures has made a real difference in what they see themselves doing in the future.
Aye-Lama began as the most promising of the three and her future still seems the most secure. She gets 80s in school, and already had an idea she wanted to go to university —Youth Futures has strengthened that resolve.
Although she was described as “somewhat shy” back in February, she was able to step in at the 11th hour during a Youth Futures barbecue at the end of May when one of the student speakers didn’t show up.
“Being in this program has made going to post-secondary school less intimidating,” she told the crowd of 100.
Now in Grade 12, Aye-Lama is preparing, like her friends, to ap- ply to university. While “everyone is freaking,” she’s able to answer all their questions and planning to attend the University of Ottawa because she’s ”not quite ready to leave home just yet.”
She has her pick of part-time jobs, too. “When people see you worked at a law firm, they notice that,” says Aye-Lama. She’s working two shifts a week at The Face Shop, giving her spending money she wouldn’t have otherwise. (She still hasn’t bought a desk.)
Marina is also working these days, but as part of a high-school co-op program at a stained-glass firm.
She’s told her boss about her health issues, and this time she has her supervisor’s contact info. She’s made friends with former co-op students who have landed permanent positions in the shop.
“I’m just a social butterfly now,” she says wryly.
But Marina has become more social in the past several months, if still on the quiet side. She surprised everyone at the graduation ceremony by bringing a homemade cheesecake — it was gone in a flash — and by presenting a number of people, including program co-ordinator Julia Faulkner, with beautiful wooden pens that she made.
“She had me choked up when she gave me the pen and said, ‘I just wanted to thank you for everything,’” remembers Faulkner. “When someone doesn’t say much, a single line can be very powerful.”
Marina is now planing to earn small-engine repair and motorcycle restoration certificates at Algonquin. Looking even further down the road, she wants to get into Carleton’s industrial design program. Big dreams for a girl who, a year ago, wasn’t a sure bet to finish high school.
James has come a long way since he arrived in Canada and plunged head first into the Youth Futures program, but still faces tremendous hurdles.
He’s confused sometimes. He’s not sure how much longer he’ll have to attend Adult High School before he can apply to college. Heartbreakingly, he missed the Youth Futures graduation ceremony at the end of August because he was mixed up about the day.
“I was so disappointed yesterday because I did not check my calendar ... I’m regretting now and confused,” James emailed at the time.
But progress for him is measured in small steps. He has gone from carrying his phone number on a scrap of paper to having his own cellphone. He has learned to navigate the city on OC Transpo. At school, he’s made a like-minded friend — a social breakthrough for a newcomer who disapproves of drinking and smoking. But even for someone with as many challenges as James, Youth Futures has provided some useful tools.
Last month, the financial assistance connected with the government’s official resettlement program ran out. Although his younger siblings qualify for financial help, James needed to get a job — but he still wanted to earn his high-school equivalency.
“I thought, ‘No, don’t just sit there and do nothing’,” says James. “So I look on Kijiji and there is a note for a dishwasher, to be part of a team. So I apply online with my resume from Youth Futures.”
The next day, he was called in for an interview at Absinthe, where he not only secured a job for himself, but also one for his cousin.
Now James works from 4 p.m till closing Wednesdays through Sundays at the Wellington West restaurant, arriving after a full day of classes. It’s a gruelling schedule, but for James, also a possible pathway to a better life.