By Chris L. Jenkins
Washington Post Staff Writer
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Aminah Coleman had assembled all the pieces of a solid working-class life: the full-time job as a medical assistant in Fairfax County, a modest home in Reston, where she lived with her four kids, and a dream to go back to college.
The difference one year can make.
In August, Coleman lost her monthly stipend for child care for her son Donavin Anderson, then 4, and her four-year-long journey to a better life came to a grinding halt. For more than six months, instead of working five days a week, she has been home, preparing her son for kindergarten next year by working on his vocabulary and reading skills. Her own education on hold, she has spent many days looking for odd jobs to pay the bills.
"People look at you crazy when you say it makes more sense to stop working if you can't get child care," said Coleman, 27, who was once on welfare but refuses to go back. "But when you look at your budget, and you see you make a certain amount of money and child care is the same as rent . . . it's at least what I felt I had to do."
Coleman is the mother of one of the more than 10,600 children on a waiting list for child-care subsidies in Virginia. The program, funded by state and federal dollars, is designed to defray the costs of child care for low-income families so the parents can work and don't have to rely on welfare or other public assistance.
The situation in Virginia has worsened since last year, when Congress directed states to move more people off welfare and into jobs. As part of the change, federal lawmakers required states to offer child care to families moving off welfare. In Virginia, officials shifted any new monies that could have been used for its existing child-care program, which aids working people such as Coleman, to the expanding one designed to help those getting off welfare.
For years, Virginia has failed to keep pace with the growing demand, particularly in Northern Virginia, leaving thousands of parents to consider a short list of unsavory options: quitting their jobs, taking second and third jobs at night, leaving older children to care for younger ones or leaving children with neighbors or in unlicensed child-care centers.
The conditions in Virginia are all the more frustrating for parents and advocates for the poor because just across the Potomac River in the District and Maryland, Coleman probably would not be on anyone's waiting list. Officials and advocates said they have put enough money into their child-care programs that, generally, those who can afford the co-payments get care.
"It hasn't been a priority in Virginia, simple and plain," said Suzanne Clark Johnson, executive director of Voices for Virginia's Children, based in Richmond. She added that waiting list numbers don't reflect the actual need because hundreds, if not thousands, more parents have not bothered to submit applications, knowing there is no space.
"There's a belief in Virginia that this subsidy amounts to welfare," Johnson said. "These are not people who are on welfare."
Virginia officials said they are aware of the problem but the change in federal welfare law has prevented them from expanding the program. State officials also contend that they have not been able to balance the needs of a growing state, particularly in Northern Virginia, with the budgetary guidelines they have been given by state leaders.
"Our families on waiting lists have not been forgotten," said Anthony Conyers, commissioner of Virginia's Department of Social Services. "The demand on child-care subsidies continues to grow, but funding is simply finite."
Conyers also said that the long waiting list is largely driven by more generous eligibility criteria in Northern Virginia because of the higher cost of living in the region. Nearly half of the state's waiting list is made up of children who live in Arlington, Prince William, Fairfax and Loudoun counties. In each of those jurisdictions, the eligibility requirements are the most generous in the state.
But some lawmakers said that in many cases, their colleagues haven't seen fit to fund child care because they lump it with welfare.
"It's been very difficult to get them to pay attention to this," said Del. Vincent F. Callahan Jr. (R-Fairfax), chairman of the House Appropriations Committee and a 40-year member of the General Assembly. "I think there's a mind-set down there that people can afford it . . . and that it shouldn't be any more subsidized."
Vouchers pay for a large portion of the cost of care for children -- all-day centers for infants to school-age kids and late-afternoon care for those in kindergarten through age 11. The program is offered to families with income between about 200 percent and 300 percent of the federal poverty level, depending on where the families live.
The subsidies, which are set by the state, can be used for parents to put their children in child-care centers, which normally cost about $200 a week, or for licensed care offered in family homes, which costs about $165 a week. Eligible families get the service at a reduced rate: Coleman paid $70 a week for Donavin to go to Children's World in Reston.
The need for the subsidy is becoming more urgent as costs for care soar, advocates said.
Virginia is one of the most expensive states for child care in the nation, on par with New York, Massachusetts and California, according to a 2006 study by the National Association of Child Care Resource and Referral Agencies. The average cost of full-time preschool child care was $7,852, the study found, which accounted for 34 percent of the median single-parent-family income.
"It's a real crunch that many working families find themselves in," said Linda Smith, executive director of the association, based in Arlington.
The crunch has been felt acutely by Coleman for more than six months. After first losing the subsidy because of an administrative mix-up -- her caseworker said paperwork wasn't filed on time, although Coleman showed a reporter evidence of her registration -- she tried to stay on at work, where she received a salary of about $32,000 a year, by paying someone $120 a week to watch Donavin.
But that option evaporated after about a month, when the babysitter went back to school.
Coleman then cut back on every expense she could, including cellphone and long-distance services. But it wasn't enough, and she decided it made more sense to stop working than to pay $800 a month to Children's World.
Donavin's father, who lives in Manassas, works full time and contributes some money for utilities, rent and other necessities, Coleman said. She also gets help from her parents, who work full time. Coleman said she uses food stamps and Medicaid, but she does not receive welfare benefits for which she is eligible.
Every once in a while, there's a reprieve: Last week, Coleman was able to score a temporary contract job because her sister took some time off from her job.
"This isn't exactly what I would have envisioned for myself or my family a year ago," she said on a recent morning, as she started Donavin on some reading exercises. "But you have to juggle the things that are thrown your way, even if it means delaying a dream or delaying plans you have for yourself."
Virginia's child-care program for working parents was developed in the mid-1980s, and there has been a waiting list for almost as long. In 1998, a report released by the General Assembly's auditing agency recommended that the state do a better job of using federal money to address the backlog.
Virginia officials say the subsidy has traditionally succumbed to other priorities. In recent years, for instance, lawmakers have directed most new human services money to programs for the mentally disabled. Callahan and Sen. Janet D. Howell (D-Fairfax) submitted a $17.1 million request during the General Assembly session that ended last month, enough to fully fund the program, that was not approved by other lawmakers.
Help from the federal government isn't coming, either. President Bush's fiscal year 2008 budget froze child-care funding for the sixth consecutive year, according to an analysis by the Center for Law and Social Policy, a liberal think tank in Washington.
As Coleman waits, she maintains that the drastic steps she has taken were the right things to do.
"I know people are going to look at me and say I should be doing this and that, but I've looked at my budget. I've looked at the numbers," Coleman said. "I'm willing to put my career on hold and make sure my son's in a nurturing environment and just struggle until he goes to school."
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