Beyond Textbooks, D.C. Schools Face a Host of Social Needs

Workers Provide Counseling, Clothes

On the third floor at Johnson Middle School in Southeast Washington, behind a wood door, sits an unlikely tool in the District's effort to uncover neglect and abuse.

It's called the LifeSTARTS Basement, a play off the national discount retailer.

Pink shelves are filled with sweaters, pants and blouses for girls. Jeans and T-shirts for boys are stacked on the blue shelves. An ironing board sits in the corner so the mostly secondhand items can be pressed and neatly folded before being distributed.

"Some of the kids need the closet because their parents use drugs or don't care for them," said Derrick Johnson, 13, a youth adviser at the school. "They wear the same clothes constantly. That closet shows them somebody cares."

Following the deaths of the four young daughters of Banita Jacks, who has been charged with their murders, Mayor Adrian M. Fenty (D) fired city workers who, he said, should have responded more promptly to warning signs. He then chided remaining social workers to be more vigilant in protecting the city's most vulnerable. Since the girls' decomposing bodies were discovered in January, reports of potential abuse and neglect quadrupled, placing additional stress on the city's Child and Family Services Agency.

Teachers, principals and outreach and social workers said the key to preventing abuse is gaining students' trust. At schools across the District, this process often starts with a bag of groceries, a ride home, help finding a place to sleep or hand-me-downs to replace tattered and filthy garments. In addition to staving off hunger pains and taunts from other students, the goal is to send the message that, in times of crisis, students have a place to turn to.

This is important, educators said, because abuse is easily masked.

"Not all kids who are abused are dirty," said Nadine Evans, an administrator at Young America Works Public Charter School in Northeast. "Not all children who are neglected have physical scars. It doesn't matter how awful things are, kids can function. . . . Somehow they piece together enough to put on a front. Inside, everything is broken."

Stretched Thin

School social workers, counselors and teachers are not authorized to investigate allegations of abuse and neglect, but as in the Jacks case, they often are the first to notice. A bruise. A scar. A normally active child who is silent. Everyone working at schools, from janitors up to principals, is required by law to report any suspicions of neglect and abuse.

In schools with a social worker on staff, that task typically falls to them.

At Hart Middle School, that is Ann Brogioli. If any of the 400 students who are not in special education at the school in Southeast Washington need help, they come to Brogioli. Teachers send her children she classifies as the "super angry" ones, who misbehave, curse at teachers and get labeled by staff as lazy and unruly. She keeps an eye out for runaways and regularly counsels children torn up over the violent deaths of one or both parents.

Even former students and their parents still show up asking her to listen to their family woes and advise them what to do. Sometimes, she finishes one appointment to find another student waiting to catch her ear. She also is expected to organize assemblies and field trips.