WASHINGTON -- Picking up trash is a career step up for Stephanie Harris.
She's got a new hairdo -- slicked down -- to go with her new job and work outfit. On a rainy day in downtown Baltimore she's wearing a red shirt and yellow rain pants and jacket to keep from getting soaked. It's a good look for her. The colors suit her better than her former prison grays.
"I don't mind cleaning the streets," Harris says when I visit her. "To me when you go from working seven days a week earning 95 cents to a dollar a day to making $7.25 an hour, it's an upgrade."
Let me put that in perspective for you.
Compare her hourly pay of $7.25 to the $3,000 a day she routinely earned selling drugs. But that job landed her in prison in 2007. It was the fifth time for Harris, who was sentenced to eight years on her last offense. On a cold and windy April 9, after anxiously going thorough a tedious release process, Harris walked out of the Maryland Correctional Institute for Women (MCIW).
When Harris was paroled, she vowed she wouldn't go back to prison, even if an honest living included removing cigarette butts from cracks in the sidewalk, weeding tree pits, emptying pole-mounted trash cans and scraping stickers off of light poles and street signs.
Christine Foote, who also was recently paroled from MCIW, would welcome any job.
For now she's taking care of her nieces and nephews to earn some money. She had hoped to land a job doing data-entry work like she did with Maryland Correctional Enterprises, which provides pre-release training through a number of business units located in the state's major prisons.
Both Harris and Foote, as part of my annual Color of Money Challenge, have agreed to allow me to follow them through this year as they try to turn their lives around. I met them while volunteering to teach personal finance classes to soon-to-be released inmates, and they were among my best students.
We talk about budgeting, saving and making better financial decisions. But mostly I try to give them encouragement.
Foote has moved back to a small community. It's been a harder transition for her because there are fewer employment opportunities. Every day she applies for several jobs.
"Most people don't even get back to me," Foote said when I visited her in Salisbury, Md. "I hear more no's than yes'es but I have to keep pushing."
Two companies did get back with her and scheduled interviews. One is for an information technology position and the other as a business office manager at a nursing home.
"Even with this job market, at some point I'll get a break," Foote says. "I'll get something."
Harris can't stop smiling, even while talking about a job that many people would abhor. She works as a "clean sweep ambassador" for the nonprofit Downtown Baltimore Partnership.
She's already made a good impression on her supervisor, who has also served time.
"I would tell anyone she works under me," said Thomas Clements, a supervisor for the clean team. "I feel she's really striving to get herself together. She has a good work ethic and attitude. Some people get here right on time, she gets here before her time."
Everyone on the street cleaning squad has had to overcome major challenges, says Michael Evitts, communications director for the partnership.
"More than half of the squad was homeless at some point, and many have struggled with substance addiction," he said. "Others, like Stephanie, have served time. Whether they know it or not when they start, working at Downtown Partnership is an important step to creating a new life. Some people aren't ready to give up their old ways and those people don't last very long, but we're always willing to give them a second or third chance when they're ready."
Not everyone thinks ex-offenders should be given chances. After I wrote about Harris and Foote in an earlier column, some online comments were vicious in condemning their past.
But Harris and Foote deserve another chance.
What's the alternative?
You can't warehouse forever everyone who breaks the law.
The alternative is to provide services for released inmates and help them find decent employment. Not everyone can be turned around. But we have to try.
"This is the end and the beginning," Harris said the day she walked out of MCIW. "All I need is for someone to give me a chance. There isn't anything I'm too prideful to do."
A BROOM, AND AN OPPORTUNITY
Stephanie Harris
Age: 27
Background: Harris was raised in a middle-income home with parents who expected her to do well. Yet her work experience consists mostly of selling drugs. Harris has a 3-year-old son, Stephon.
Paroled: Harris was released April 9 from the Maryland Correctional Institution for Women, where she was serving an eight-year sentence on two counts of possession of heroin. She previously had done time for armed robbery, drug possession and the distribution of heroin and crack cocaine.
The plan: Harris had placed her hopes on landing a job cleaning the streets of downtown Baltimore. It's a job some people would think beneath them. But for Harris it was an opportunity.
On May 3, she was hired as a "clean sweep ambassador" for the nonprofit Downtown Partnership of Baltimore, which provides services in a 106-block area. Commercial property owners in the downtown district fund the clean sweep teams and other ventures.
"In our experience, the benefits of hiring an ex-offender outweighs the downside that the hire might not work out," said Michael Evitts, communications director for the partnership. "Stephanie is a good example. She is an extremely motivated employee focused on doing a good job. She gets along well with her co-workers and supervisors. And, after only three weeks, she is volunteering to take on new assignments and additional responsibility. What business wouldn�t want an employee with these characteristics?"
Harris' first paycheck was $275 for three days of work. She immediately put $100 of that into a savings account. Right now she's living with her mother so she doesn't have the financial pressure of paying rent or other expenses. She wants to help more with the bills. Once she�s getting a regular paycheck, she'll start with perhaps paying the cable or telephone bill.
Harris wants to eventually get her own place but not before she's built up a good emergency fund. I also remind her of keeping money in a "life happens fund" for expenses that come up unexpectedly.
"I have a lot of goals. But I'm not going to try and do everything in one day," she promises.
TRYING TO GET IN THE JOB MARKET
Christine Foote
Age: 33
Background: Foote grew up in a middle-income household in Wicomico County, Md. She has a 14-year-old daughter.
She has an associate of applied science degree in business management from Wor-Wic Community College in Salisbury, Md. She was pursuing a bachelor's degree at the University of Maryland-Eastern Shore before her incarceration.
Paroled: On April 16, Foote was released from the Maryland Correctional Institution for Women after serving two and half years on a 10-year sentence for felony theft.
The plan: It's been difficult finding a job. The Maryland Eastern Shore community where she lives has been hit hard by the economic downturn.
Coming home with no job was "very overwhelming and scary," Foote said.
To help earn some money, she is providing day care for her nieces and nephews. She's also planning to return to selling products for Pure Romance, an in-home direct sales company. She has a few parties ready to book.
Foote would like to move to another area with better job opportunities, but her emotional and financial support system is in Salisbury. Her daughter is doing well and Foote doesn't want to uproot her. She's living with her parents, which takes the pressure off not having a steady income.
Despite the challenges and her mistakes, Foote is working hard to do better.
"Everyone has made poor choices at some point," she said. "The past is just that -- the past. If I continue to focus on that and not learn from it and truly move forward, then I miss out on the present and future. It is what we learn and how we overcome the challenges which defines us."
Readers can write to Michelle Singletary c/o The Washington Post, 1150 15th St., N.W., Washington, D.C. 20071. Her e-mail address is singletarym(at)washpost.com. Comments and questions are welcome, but due to the volume of mail, personal responses may not be possible. Please also note comments or questions may be used in a future column, with the writer's name, unless a specific request to do otherwise is indicated.
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