Proposal submitted, funding requested for a program that would coordinate services to benefit substance-abusing teenage mothers and their at-risk infants. Money to train staff to train volunteers who will provide support and model appropriate behavior, parenting skills and problem-solving techniques, provide child care so young mothers can go to job training and support groups. Vouchers for gasoline so she can attend classes, but gasoline doesn’t help because her car broke down when her boyfriend borrowed it and left it parked on that rutted dirt street by the trailer they used to live in but got kicked out of because he spent the rent on stuff. A program director hired to coordinate staff to train the volunteers and administer the program, a master’s degree and five years minimum experience in related fields, ninety thousand plus benefits and retirement, and the teenage junkie mother gets a gas voucher. The administrator has never met a junkie and doesn’t want to; the volunteers will handle that with appropriate activities described in flawless bureaucratese, designed to enrich the environment of the junkie mothers and make sure they get to the baby clinic on time. And the teenage substance-abusing mother is eligible for a job-training program. So, if she stays off the stuff maybe she can get a clerical certificate, or she can get on-the-job training and get to be a Certified Nursing Assistant. She gets child care so she can attend classes, if Welfare approves it, and if she can get the car fixed. Her boyfriend said he and his friend would go get the car and fix it, but somebody stripped it and smashed the windshield and they came back with some stuff instead. The baby is screaming and she can’t handle that, the stuff, it makes you forget the social workers and the fuck-up volunteers that try to pretend they’re on your level. Tell them whatever they want to hear, they’re just spies for Welfare, got a file on you bigger than the phone book. The administrator drives a silver Mercedes and keeps the doors locked when he parks downtown. Her boyfriend spent the money on stuff so they took the phone out, the volunteers can’t call, there’s no food in the house, they’ll get kicked out pretty soon but it doesn’t matter, the stuff makes you not care about the silver Mercedes and all the other shit you’ll never have.
