Service-Learning Log 2 -- Shaun Snowden

On May 9th, Project Homeless Connect took place at the Ritchie Center at DU. It is a program that provides resources to thousands of homeless people in the surrounding areas. People can come to find resources that would otherwise be scattered throughout the city, and that they may not be able to seek out due to a lack of money or transportation.

I arrived at 8 AM to receive my training. I had signed up two days before and had missed all of the training dates. After signing in, I went to my training session, which was remarkably chaotic and informal. It consisted of a woman standing amid a mass of people of people in gold shirts, yelling out the same information repeatedly. The “training” session served as a basis for us to sign our waivers. Then we were set loose to figure things out on our own. My nerves were tightly wound as I went to take my place in line. I had no idea what my specific role was. I did not know what to expect, nor what was expected of me.

The line of volunteers extended down the stairs on the North side of the Ritchie Center, wrapping around the corner. The image reminded me of the multitude of people waiting for Obama a few months ago. The droves of volunteers astounded me; I could not believe how many people were there to help this event. I had expected maybe a hundred people to show up. The turn out blew my expectations away. I have never been part of such a large event.

As I stood in line, I began to talk to the woman that was standing behind me. She had heard about PHC through her work. She said to me, “I feel like it is a great way to give back,” viewing it as an opportunity for a rewarding experience. Again, I was amazed that this project seeped so far out into the community. This woman was volunteering and she had no affiliation with DU. After talking with her, I felt like I was in for a positive and rewarding day.

The first busload of homeless arrived, and I was shocked by what I discovered about myself. I found that I tensed up, suddenly nervous at the prospect of spending the whole day with a homeless person. I was as tense as someone would be if a homeless person approached them on the street, begging for money. What would we talk about? Would it just be drawn out and awkward? What would they think about me? I was shocked that I had such an ego in this situation. I had a lot to mentally overcome and I had to do it quick. I found that I did allow my mind to embrace stereotypes—something that I had not realized before.

A coordinator came from the bus, pushing a man in the wheelchair. He caught my eye and indicated that he would like my assistance. I got out of line and proceeded to help Stephen, the man who I would be paired with for the rest of the day.

I was given a clipboard with paperwork to fill out. The questions seemed very personal. It caught me off guard. At project Angel Heart, the volunteers are given almost no information regarding the people that they assist. Here I was asking questions regarding where he lived, his Social Security Number, and other invasive questions. I was sure that some would seem offensive, but Stephen took the questions like a champ and did not act surprised by any of the questions.

The medical center was our first stop. While we waited for assistance (PHC is really a lot of waiting in a series of lines), we talked about his history. This conversation fundamentally shifted the way I perceive the homeless. Initially, I had a hard time supporting the actual cause of PHC. My parents had always made comments regarding the homeless as I grew up like, “Get a job. I worked hard for my money and they live off of the money of others. ” I had perceived being homeless as a choice. But Stephen proved me wrong. Every time he had made progress in the direction of getting more control over his situation, misfortune would strike. He lived in an assisted living facility for three years. He accidentally bounced one check, and they evicted him. He feels unwelcome at the place where he lives now because of his handicap. When he was at a temporary shelter, he was carrying cash. He put it in his locker, and someone managed to steal it.

He was able to walk up until a couple of years ago. He slipped on some ice and made it to the hospital the next day. They did an X-ray and found a vertebrate completely shattered. Because of advanced osteoporosis, nothing could truly be done to help his situation. Now he can only stand for a maximum of ten minutes. Bad luck completely handicapped this man and took away any chance of fixing his situation.

But for a homeless man, I was also surprised to find how together his situation was. He was enrolled in Medicare/Medicaid and received a pension from the government. He knew what he specifically needed. He had specifics that he was looking for answers for. He needed help figuring out how to get a specific ID. He was also trying to figure out how to get an electric wheelchair. I felt like he knew more about how to get his life together than I did about mine.

We went from one area to another and finding the answers to his questions, but it was slightly disheartening. Every answer was merely a referral to someone else who was supposed to know the answers. I was amazed at the resources that the day offered, but the resources only sent him back into the world with only a slightly better idea as to how to better his situation. I wondered whether or not it was all worth it.

At the end of the event, we had a follow up survey. It asked questions that analyzed the program and looked for ways to make next year’s PHC more successful. I asked him what he considered to be the best or most helpful part of the program and he said, “I was amazed by how helpful you were.” That gratitude and that instant made me feel like I really could make a difference and it was enough to win my commitment to the event next year.

In one day, this event had managed to shift my perspective on the homeless. I learned a lot about myself. I found that I do hold some prejudices that I need to overcome. I took a journey outside of my social comfort zone and a spent the day with some one I had never met before in a confusing situation. In the end, I felt that I truly made a difference in someone’s life.