When school is three boroughs away

Sarah Moawad
The Home Room
Published in
7 min readMay 12, 2019
Wesley Rivers sleeps on the train from the South Bronx to Far Rockaway, Queens to attend his high school. He is one of more than 114,000 homeless students in New York City public schools. (Credit: Sarah Moawad)

One cold Tuesday morning in March, Wesley Rivers tumbled out of bed at 4 a.m., his usual wake up time. The 15-year-old high school sophomore had to be on the 167th and Grand Concourse subway platform with his younger brother by 5 a.m. in order to make it to school on the southernmost edge of Queens by the opening bell.

Shatina Rivers brought her sons Cookie Crisp cereal and milk, kissed them good-bye and gave Wesley some money to buy snacks from the East 168th Street bodega in the South Bronx — Mountain Dew for himself, iced tea and gum for his brother.

What used to be a 10-minute walk to the boys’ Far Rockaway school, became a 25-mile, two-hour subway ride through three boroughs on the D-train. The family lost their Queens apartment last summer when their landlord sold the building out from under them in a foreclosure settlement, pitching them into the homeless shelter system.

Wesley’s old apartment building in Far Rockaway, now with a “For Rent” sign, after all former tenants were evicted. (Credit: Sarah Moawad)

Even though the city pledged to offer transitional shelter as close to children’s schools as possible, Wesley and his family were placed on Findlay Avenue and 167th Street in the Bronx, about as far away as they could be.

“I’m just tired,” said Wesley on a recent Thursday afternoon, resting his head on his hand like a pillow as he waited to speak to a teacher. That morning he had to rise at 3 a.m. because his after school test prep session caused him to get home too late to prepare for school the night before.

Wesley and his brother Jordan, a 14-year-old 8th grader, are among the over 114,000 students in New York City public schools who are classified by the Department of Education as “homeless,” a designation that includes those living in temporary and transitional housing like the Rivers family.

That number is a record high. In 2010, there were 69,000 homeless students in the city’s public school system. Now, there are 114,659, according to state data released by Advocates for Children of New York, a group that provides legal services for public school students. Many of these students, like Wesley, have to travel excessive distances all of a sudden to get to school from their shelters, increasing their chances of missing class and losing academic ground.

It is hardships like Wesley’s that led the De Blasio administration to prioritize placing homeless families in shelters in the same borough as their youngest child’s school. This was outlined in his 2017 “Turning the Tide on Homelessness” plan. Yet, according to the 2019 Preliminary Mayor’s Management Report, only about 50 percent of homeless families entering the shelter system were placed near their youngest child’s school.

In February, the mayor left another promise undone. He recommended slashing $14 million out of the city’s $92 million preliminary budget that was used to pay for school social workers, known as “Bridging the Gap” workers, who help homeless students with attendance and schoolwork. Organizations like the Legal Aid Society and Coalition for the Homeless say cuts in this kind of support leave the neediest students with even fewer resources.

Even so, the administration argues that it is seeing slow but steady results. The city’s department of homeless service shelter census remained flat in 2017 and 2018, for the first time in over a decade, claimed Arianna Fishman, press secretary for the Department of Homeless Services. More than 109,000 homeless New Yorkers left the city’s shelter system during those years and found their own housing. “The national challenge of homelessness didn’t occur overnight and it won’t be solved overnight,” she wrote in an email, when asked about the city’s lagging progress.

In the meantime, students who find themselves in Wesley’s situation are forced to choose between transferring to a new school in their neighborhood, or braving the long commute.

“I asked for Far Rockaway, they said no,” said Rivers, because her son was doing so well in Queens High School for Information, Research and Technology. “I then asked for Brooklyn, because I wanted the kids to stay in school. But they said the only place we can place you is the Bronx.”

Department of Homeless Services data visualized by NY1 reveal where all homeless shelters are located. The Bronx is home to the vast majority of cluster sites, or landlord operated shelters. (Credit: NY1 News)

The path to shelter placement began for the Rivers’ family in the Bronx at the Prevention Assistance and Temporary Housing Office, the city’s sole intake center for homeless families. The family of five — Wesley, Jordan, their father James, their mother, and the boys’ older sister Renatta, who suffers from cerebral palsy — had lived in Far Rockaway for 10 years. But they were ultimately placed in transitional housing in the Bronx, the borough with the largest total number of shelters and apartment units for homeless families.

“They could have applied for a hardship transfer, to be transferred to a school closer to home,” said John Restrepo, a guidance counselor at QIRT. But, he added, Wesley rejected a placement near his current transitional shelter in favor of this two-and-a-half hour subway ride, because he has been thriving at the high school.

“I’ve been on the honor roll ever since I got here, so I don’t wanna mess that up,” Wesley said. “I’d rather just take the ride here.”

Still, for the 15-year-old, the commute has been daunting. “The first time I came to school my parents had to bring me here, because I didn’t really know how to get from the Bronx all the way here,” said Wesley, who had rarely taken the subway. “A couple times I got lost and confused. I ended up in like Washington Heights. I don’t know where I’m at. I’m asking people, they’re telling me just go back on the train, go here, go there. And I don’t know where to go.”

He ended up missing the first two days of school in the fall.

When a child becomes homeless, the risks to academic success pile on. During the 2015–16 school year, homeless students scored at roughly half the proficiency level in math and English as their non-homeless peers. They also had higher dropout rates and lower graduation rates. They are more likely to be chronically absent, especially if they have been homeless for long periods of time.

A 2017 report by the Institute for Children, Poverty and Homelessness found that 90 percent of homeless students who were chronically absent at some point during middle school were also chronically absent during high school.

Teachers said Wesley’s attendance is remarkably high considering his situation, despite a few initial speed bumps during the fall semester. “Last year was a bit of a struggle, because I think he was still trying to find his balance,” said English teacher Tanesha Robinson. “But now that he’s found it, he’s not letting anything stop him. I don’t worry about Wesley — he’s a 90’s student, does all his work, asks for extra work, is always here on time.”

Wesley participates in Tanesha Robinson’s English class. Despite his circumstances, he is currently ahead of the class and has finished all his assignments. (Source: Sarah Moawad)

Occasionally, he must miss school due to unforeseen circumstances. “This winter was hard because there was a lot of delays,” he said. “There was one time the train stopped running for a whole day…the snow got on the tracks and it started friction with the train, so they shut the track down.”

Despite the obstacles, Wesley is still trying hard. If he arrives before the 8:20 bell, he spends his time doing extra credit work. He enjoys composing music and writing, particularly poetry. Last semester, he wrote a poem for Robinson’s English class entitled “Why?” about systemic racism against Black men.

“Why ever since we were born

It’s like our graves were already dug

they’re trying to sweep us under the rug

Like the rung

That hung Sandra Bland

How do you hang yourself with police hands

The cops say they’re helping

But they’re just making it worse

Instead of seeing us graduate

And shoot for the stars

Our parents seeing us shackled behind bars”

He also tries to stay involved in after school activities when he can, which is often the first experience to be sacrificed. Last year, he joined the Neighborhood Development Area (NDA), an after school educational support program that provides struggling students with tutoring help, leadership skills, college preparedness and job training. This year, Wesley’s high grades make him ineligible to officially register for the program, intended for students scoring below a C in one or more classes.

But NDA advisor Michael Pezzella — or as the kids call him, Mr. Mike — still allows him to participate. “Our relationship carried over into this year,” said Pezzella. “Even though Wesley isn’t enrolled into the program, he still comes to us for advice, still comes to us for assistance, and still comes and hangs out at our workshops every now and then when we’re having some fun ones.”

Still, it isn’t the same as when he lived around the corner, right next door to his cousin, classmates and best friends. “To be honest, I don’t like the Bronx,” he said. “I don’t get to do stuff with my friends because I’m so far away. The only time I really see my friends is when I come to school.”

Both parents hope to transfer to an apartment closer to the boys’ schools before the end of the year, even though their challenges are compounded as well. His father, James, once worked as a cook in various downtown Manhattan restaurants and is now looking for new employment. His mother had to quit her longtime job with the Parks Department due to back injury. His sister, Renatta, is set to be moved to a facility for disabled care in Brownsville, Brooklyn, which may change their placement status.

“I’m hoping to leave before December. Just gotta do some jumping hoops and getting paperwork together,” said Shatina. “We had to muscle through and do what we had to do as a family.”

--

--