Emily Orton describes her family's routine as weaving in and out of learning together. (Photo by Lina Zeldovich)

Karina Orton, 14, sits on the living room couch leafing through her biology textbook while her sister, Sarah Jane, 10, munches on a sandwich at the table and Alison, 12, plays the piano in the next room.  Their brother Eli, 6, is building planes with his favorite Legos and their mother, Emily, reads to Lily, 4, who is drinking milk from a sippy cup.

The relaxed scene resembles a weekend morning, but it’s 11 a.m. on a Thursday.  For the Ortons, this is the norm.  They don’t rush off to school each morning or spend afternoons doing homework. Emily and Erik Orton have been homeschooling their children for more than four years.

“I was really nervous because it’s such a huge responsibility,” Emily, who’s 37,  says about that decision.  “I have my degree in education and I was still nervous because it felt like I would be replicating a classroom in our house.”

The Ortons turned to homeschooling because Karina asked for it, her mother says. Karina doesn’t remember the conversation, but recalls that her public school wasn’t very challenging. “I’m a really fast reader, so if I like a book, I can read it in a day,” she says.  “But in school they usually read it one chapter at a time.”

A decade ago homeschooling was a cutting edge alternative approach to education, but it has become almost mainstream, says Brian D. Ray, president of the National Home Education Research Institute, who has studied homeschooling for 25 years. His 2009 nationwide study, published last spring in Academic Leadership Journal, estimates the number of home-educated students in America at  1.7 million to 2.3 million.

Surveying 11,739 students from 50 states via online and paper questionnaires, including achievement test results, the study also used data from the 13 state education departments, five nationwide homeschooling organizations and other published research to develop that estimate.

More than 2500 New York City students are being homeschooled this year, according to the city’s Department of Education, a number that has fluctuated from 1880 students in 2002-03 to a peak of 3654 in 2006-07.

The number of homeschooled New York kids fluctuated from 1880 to 3654 in the past decade. (Chart by Lina Zeldovich. Data provided by the New York City Department of Education.)

New York State laws give homeschooling families substantial flexibility, making the administrative procedures surprisingly simple.  Parents must submit a letter of intent to the New York City Department of Education homeschooling office and write an individualized home instruction plan for the year, with a syllabus and textbook for each course.

They must submit quarterly reports to show that children are meeting the plan’s goals, record the number of hours studied and produce a year-end assessment. The law allows parents to choose someone to administer a year-end achievement year-end test — a certified teacher, a peer group review panel, even the parents themselves. The laws also allow homeschoolers to use their district school’s gym, library and other facilities.

Emily Orton says the process proved easier than her family thought, allowed them to spend more time together and simplifying their lives. “We were finally able to get enough sleep,” she says, adding that homeschooling allows Lily, who has Down syndrome, to learn from her siblings.

Erik also thinks that traditional schooling can interfere with learning. “Children are naturally curious and able to figure things out,” he says. “If you give them some freedom, they can learn deeper than when there’s a traditional classroom and a test at the end.”

While Ortons prefer to teach their children themselves, other families hire tutors.  It can be costly, from $85 to $95 an hour, depending on the course and materials, says tutor Jessie Mathisen.  She taught science in New York City public schools for two years before starting a business, Tutor New York City, that coaches members of two uptown homeschool groups.

She says the reasons local families chose to homeschool vary.  “Some parents really enjoy teaching their kids themselves – the closeness, protection against bad influences,” she says.

Nationally, the institute study shows a similar diversity: Some homeschooling parents feel their children accomplish more studying at home with individualized approaches, some cite religious reasons or safety concerns, and others believe it enhances family relationships.

Local families build in a lot of socializing, often with other homeschooled kids, Mathisen points out. The National Home Education Research Institute’s study confirms that “the large majority of home-educated students consistently interact with children of various ages and parents outside their immediate family.”

On the downside, Mathisen thinks many homeschoolers never learn to stand up to bullies, “but for many parents it’s a small price to pay,” she says.  “Other parents can’t even bear to think about their kids bullied.”

The National Home Education Research Institute’s study also shows that homeschooling families are larger, better-educated and higher-earning than the norm:  68.1 percent families have more than three children, 81 percent have an at-home mother and over 60 percent have college-educated parents. The families’ annual incomes average $75,000 to $79,000, of which $400 to $599 is spent on educational materials per student.

Alison Orton wears headphones when playing piano under her parents’ loft bed so her music doesn’t interfere with her siblings’ studies. (Photo by Lina Zeldovich)

The Ortons live in a two-bedroom Washington Heights apartment where the kids’ bedroom has three bunk beds and the parents’ bedroom also serves as an office and piano studi0.

“I cover math, technology and music because I have a degree in music,” says Erik. While he doesn’t give his kids lessons, “they all play multiple instruments and write their own songs.”

Emily, who has a degree in bilingual education, covers almost everything else, except for Karina’s tutoring in biology, which Karina barters for in exchange for babysitting her tutor’s kids.  Karina also studies the Old Testament at the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints that the Ortons belong to, a lesson she gets up for at 6:15 a.m.  “I usually go back to bed when I get home,” she admits.

To support the family, Erik does graphics work for an investment bank, working a 3-to-midnight shift. “That’s when Emily and I have a grown-up time, quiet time,” he says, describing their daily routine. “We go to bed around 2 and start our day late.”

That schedule, with Erik at home most of the day, made home schooling even more appealing.  The Ortons disliked the usual morning frenzy, Erik says, lamenting that he barely saw his children. “I’d walk them to school and I’d pass them on the way to work by the subway,” he says, “and that was it.”

Now Erik does work for his theater production company, O Productions, writing and producing plays during the day and essentially keeping a second job while being with his family.

Setting their own schedule gives the Ortons freedom to take day trips and travel.  “We spent a month in Cape Cod in September,” says Erik. “It was quiet and empty.”

The Orton kids are quick to recall favorite educational experiences: they visited a biodynamic farm and forged hooks at a blacksmith shop in Chestnut Ridge, N.Y., took art lessons at the Metropolitan Museum and ski lessons in Utah and learned to sail in New York harbor.

“Sailing is fun,” says Alison. She uses a yacht-shaped Christmas ornament to explain how the sails work.  “I know how to steer. I can raise the jib, but you need more than one person to raise the main sail.”

Except for Eli, who has already decided to become a ninja, the children aren’t sure what they want to do when they grow up.

“It’s such a hard question for me,” Karina says. “I love making things with my hands.”

Alison chimes in. “We’d love to grow our own food, but we don’t know how to do that very well.”

According to the National Home Education Research Institute’s study, homeschooled students test well, with scores 15 to 30 percentile points above public school students’ average of the 50th percentile.

Homeschoolers succeed at college at the same or slightly higher rate than public school kids and fare about as well in adulthood.  However, they  partake more in community services, vote and attend public meetings more frequently than their peers, and internalize their parents’ values and beliefs at a higher rate.

“Our home school isn’t something that happens between certain hours on certain days,” Emily says. “It’s our approach to life.”

Crystal Rand and Mae Hmo, minority students at Park East, a predominantly Hispanic high school in East Harlem. (Photo by Paolo Lorenzana)

In the cafeteria of Harlem Renaissance High School on East 128th Street, students at four tables chatter over snacks before their morning classes. But 16-year-old Brooke Dominguez, a junior, eats with her mother and baby sister. In a room where most students are African-Americans, Dominguez also has the lightest skin: a faint trace of mocha, like the froth on a café au lait.

Reflecting the primarily black population of Harlem, more than 50 percent of Harlem Renaissance’s 231 students are African-American; nearly all the rest are Hispanic. Just one percent identify as “other” and their experiences as a tiny minority in uptown schools go largely overlooked.

Dominguez is one of two students in the school who identify themselves as being of mixed race.

Tiffany Brand, Dominguez’s mother and the secretary of the school parents’ association, is Caucasian — rosy-cheeked with dove grey eyes and hair the color of a wheat field. She left her native Nebraska on a whim, following a college roommate to New York City, where she met Brooke’s father, who is African-American and Hispanic.

The family lived on the Upper West Side, then moved to the Bronx. It wasn’t until Dominguez entered the sixth grade, at Frederick Douglass Academy II on West 114th Street, that she felt alienated because of her race.

“I was the one with the lightest skin in the school,” says Dominguez. “There was a welcome assembly where the principal talked about the student population — how many blacks and Hispanics there were. Then they were talking about those who were something else. They used me as an example.”

“I was shocked,” Brand says about her daughter’s being singled out on her first day of middle school. “Why would you talk about that at an assembly? The principal was rambling, talking about the school’s ethnic roots and it’s like he was telling all other races, ‘You get out.’”

Dominguez soon became withdrawn at school. “They would try to pick on me,” she says. “I was quiet and more go with the flow. Those kids were crazy. I didn’t like anyone in that school.” Classmates invited her to “go to the staircase” and cut class, she recalls; some sixth graders also smoked and drank alcohol. Dominguez responded by spending most of her time with neighborhood friends and focusing on her schoolwork.

Not only did she become ostracized for her diligence, but also for her color. “When we took a class picture, they’d point out I was the lightest one,” Dominguez says. “She don’t belong here,” a classmate pointed out with amusement.

“I never worried about putting her in a predominantly black school because I was never prejudiced,” her mother says. “If Frederick Douglass saw what was happening, he’d be rolling in his grave. I took her out of that school.”

“I imagine that white students, like any small minority in a large majority, will feel many of the same things,” says Bill Crain, a developmental psychologist at City College of New York in Hamilton Heights. ”Emotionally, there would be some problems. They’ll feel isolation and feel different.”

Brooke Dominguez, whose mother is white and father is African-American, experienced discrimination at her predominantly black middle school

During forums at City College, where Crain, who is white, teaches classes that are mostly African-Americans, preference for the majority has been raised as an issue. “I’ve had white students complain that I wasn’t calling on them enough in class,” says Crain. “‘You’re just trying to favor the black kids,’” students would tell him.

“Those issues come up — favoritism,” Crain says. “All this occurs in the broader context in which whites have the power…I guess any minority feels more sensitive to discrimination.”

Minority students in high school may feel even more strain from racial tension. “In the teenage years, you’re worried about your identity,” Crain says. “I think it would be more acute and anxiety-producing for the teenager. There’s cliques — what clique are you going to get into if you’re a white kid?”

Despite the struggles, there can be benefits to being the ethnic odd one out in school. “They may feel different and odd for a while, but if they hang in there, they come out a mature, more advanced individual who has a broader perspective,” says Crain, who invokes a sociological study done decades ago by Robert Park. “His thesis was that those people who grow up in two different cultures become more intellectually and culturally sophisticated,” Crain said. “I would think that there could be some really positive effects to having two cultures.”

Perhaps reflecting the changing demographics of upper Manhattan, some schools are seeing a bit more ethnic and racial diversity. At Park East High School on East 105th Street, more than 60 percent of the 258 students are Hispanic and 30 percent are African-American. However,“this year, there are more nationalities,” says Xiomara Rodriguez, the parent coordinator. “There are two students that are Arabic and two Indians. We have four white students. Last year, there were just two.”

The unease a minority student experiences in a classroom where the faces — and culture — are unfamiliar can be temporary, Rodriguez says. “There are a few students that are assigned here by the district,” she says. “They come to the school with the mentality of transferring, but sometimes, they get used to the school and they change their minds and stay.”

Freshman Crystal Rand, for instance, was reluctant to enroll at Park East High after she completed middle school at a Catholic school in the Bronx. “I thought it wasn’t going to be the right school for me. I just felt scared,” says Rand, whose pale face and chestnut hair distinguish her in a hallway of darker students. “The school was kind of small for me. I wanted to be in a school that was big, where no one knew me.”

But the school’s size proved an advantage to Rand, especially with new ethnicities mottling the palette in recent years. “My old school was more Spanish but here, there’s a little more diversity,” says Rand, who considers two Asians and a Hispanic student her closest friends. “I remember when I first came to Harlem in summer camp, I was probably 10 years old at the time. It was kind of hard because people were still kind of racist. But here, everybody knows you for who you are — race and everything.”

David Deng, a Chinese-American student at Park East High (Photo by Paolo Lorenzana)

David Deng, 17, a senior who is Chinese, says: “Everyone saw me and, ‘Oh, it’s the Asian kid.’” He selected Park East High, after graduating from a middle school in Grammercy Park, because of its A grade from the Department of Education.

“My first friend here, who’s Dominican, came up to me on the second day and we’re best friends now,” he says. “Freshman year, I was the only Asian here. It went from being Puerto Rican, Dominican and black to more whites and Asians, like a normal high school in New York City.”

Smiling widely, Rand adds, “Since I’ve been here, I’ve gotten into hip-hop and all that. It’s influenced the way I speak. I speak with a bit more slang than I used to.”

Deng agrees. “I now know cultures of Dominicans and Puerto Ricans — what they do, eat, and all that fun stuff like rap and bachata, the Spanish dance music they’re always talking about.” As a result of his experience, entering one of the predominantly white colleges he applied to is less daunting. “I’ll get used to it,” he says. “Asians are still a minority but because of this school, I can make friends with every different race — people I wouldn’t even talk to when I was in middle school.”

Such people might include Shane De la Cruz, a dark-skinned Dominican senior, who wasn’t exposed to ethnicities other than black or Hispanic when he began high school at Park East. But by his senior year, his group of mostly Dominican friends now includes Deng. Other Asian students tend to cling toone another, De la Cruz said, ” but he isn’t how the other Asians are. He was talking, joking around. I’m the type of guy who’s always playing around so I started talking to him. I wouldn’t say we’re good friends but we’re friends.”

At Frederick Douglass Academy II, cultures are also converging. Two years ago, Owei Owusu-Afriyie replaced the principal in charge when Brooke Dominguez was the resident “white girl” amid an African-American majority.

“You know, there’s a reality for students and then there’s the adult perception of the students’ reality,” Afriyie says, told of the former student’s experience. “I may not perceive it, but that doesn’t mean that that’s not a tension that a child feels.”

But with a recent influx of West Africans and the emergence of new minorities among the school’s 419 students, Afriyie has given ethnic integration more emphasis. He introduced a buddy system for new students from different cultures and launched Summer Bridge, a three-week program to foster unity among incoming students.

“They build what we call a scholar identity,” he says. “It doesn’t mean you’re denying where you’re coming from, but you’re participating with others in the creation of another type of experience — what it means to be an FDA II scholar.

“A lot of times, the students’ interactions with cultures is via TV, not face to face,” he points out. “The whole idea of coming to school is to learn about other people and interact with people of different cultures. That’s one thing we’ve been working on — having more celebrations of diversity in this school.”

Afriyie speculates that technology has made students more sophisticated about classmates outside their own ethnicities. “It’s the Facebook culture,” he says. “Social media closes the gap of what children are liking in other countries and what children are liking here. They have a common entry point that’s helping bridge culture.”

As gentrification increases uptown, the integration of minorities into predominantly black or Hispanic schools is likely to increase cultural interplay.

“There are more white people coming in,” says Yvette McKenzie, the parent coordinator at Frederick Douglass Academy in West Harlem. “This location is predominantly black until recently. People have come to our school because it’s a safe place. We don’t have metal detectors or bars on the windows. We also have AP classes in the ninth grade so, of course, parents like their kids to come here.”

Afriyie agrees. “The neighborhood’s changing,” he says. “You’re having a lot of different things that are going to change the ethnic makeup of the school. I think that’s only going to be a good thing.”

Katerina Melitsopoulou and Brenda Alcantara deem a snake unfit for a pet. (Photo by Lina Zeldovich)

Katerina Melitsopoulou, an Inwood speech therapist, sits on a small red chair with four-year-old Brenda Alcantara, imitating everything from leaping monkeys to slithering snakes. As they act out the “Dear Zoo” book, Melitsopoulou jumps up pointing at the ceiling to show that the giraffe is “too tall” and bares her teeth in a roar to depict the lion as “too fierce.” They send every unfit pet back, placing a letter in a shiny red mailbox, until the zoo finally delivers a puppy.

With her next client, three-year-old Billy Sanchez, Melitsopoulou reads “Goodnight Moon,” which she calls “a staple of speech therapy.”  Then they catch multihued fish so Billy learns to pronounce colors.

Both children are bilingual Spanish speakers with speech delays.  It’s not unusual for bilingual kids to speak later than their monolingual peers, but if speech problems are not addressed, they can cause cognitive and social delays, says Catherine Crowley, director of the Bilingual Extension Institute at Columbia University’s Teachers College. “The child will have difficulties in school interacting and comprehending,” she says.

Speech therapists in Washington Heights and Inwood see a definite need for their services, intensified by the fact that many families speak Spanish at home. Children cared for by their grandparents during the day often lack interaction with their English-speaking peers. Some therapists see an increasing demand; others point out that there’s not enough awareness of free programs that could help.  Meanwhile, some parents wouldn’t mind seeing more local therapists to choose from.

Alcantara’s mother, Ana Herrera, who speaks little English, says her daughter was speaking gibberish as a toddler and their pediatrician recommended therapy. Sanchez’s mother, Yahaira Estevez, a bit more communicative in English, took charge herself. “Billy was a year and a half and he wasn’t speaking, so I talked to our doctor,” she says.

Melitsopoulou, fluent in Spanish and Greek, has had a 16-year speech therapy career, and opened her Inwood office in 2008 because she saw the need in a neighborhood where half to two-thirds of her clients are bilingual. She started as a solo practitioner in one room and quickly expanded, hiring more therapists and renting additional space. “So far I have been able to accommodate everyone who came,” she says proudly.

“He wasn’t directing us,” she says of her doctor.  “Ellee wasn’t following instructions; he was in his own little world.”  She’s not sure whether his speech delay was caused by his exposure to both English and Russian, but his progress has been remarkable, she says about her now 6-year-old. “Ellee now talks and tells stories.”

Terlitsky has been happy with Stella Heracleous-Kyprianou, a speech therapist so bubbly she can get the most withdrawn children to chatter, but she would like Ellee to continue his therapy in a group setting.

Heracleous-Kyprianou, who started her first Logopedica center in Astoria 10 years ago and later opened a second office in Washington Heights, says she has noticed that uptown parents raise fewer concerns about kids’ speech delays than those in Astoria, though both neighborhoods are highly bilingual.

“In Astoria they’re more aware,” says Heracleous-Kyprianou, adding that many Astoria parents introduce their children to therapy before they turn two. “Here, kids get their screenings when they are a little older – three or four years old, when the delay is more obvious. But we want to act as early as possible.”

Sometimes parents realize their children still struggle with words while their peers speak in full sentences. Many kids’ speech delays surface only when they start school and get placed on Individual Education Plans, which essentially categorize them as special ed students even though they may not have learning disabilities.

Crowley says that bilingual children and those from poor families face higher risks of being mistakenly placed in special ed when they don’t need it. The most commonly-used standardized tests that determine whether children have language problems are only 57 percent accurate and don’t reflect cultural nuances, she adds.

“Research shows that bilingual kids have smaller vocabularies; kids from poor backgrounds are shown to have a smaller vocabulary. So they will score lower on tests,” says Crowley, adding that in some ethnic communities, youngsters are taught not to speak up but to keep quiet.

“Children from certain cultures don’t focus on labeling or telling stories,” she says, emphasizing that standardized test provide a flawed measurement of their intelligence. Yet the Individual Education Plans will follow them through school, lowering their curriculum requirements and not engaging them to their full potential.

The special ed graduation rate in New York was a shocking 18 percent in 2006, Crowley says, increasing to 23 percent in 2009 and barely over 30 percent now. “The teachers’ expectations for children with disabilities are different,” Crowley explains. “Research shows that who you learn with matters.  If you’re in the class with low achievers, you will be a low achiever.”

According to Department of Education data, 21 percent of English language learners, or one in five, get placed on Individual Education Plans.

Melitsopoulou works with many Committee of Preschool of Special Education referrals, with good results. Most kids are exposed to English in their schools, she says. “You can see how they start using more and more English words during the school year, and at the end, they often prefer to speak English.”

If they start therapy early, children may not need Individual Education Plans, Heracleous-Kyprianou says. She tries to address the problem before kids start school by working with a local pediatrician to identify children with speech delays and by holding information sessions at childcare centers to educate teachers about free state programs.

English language learners under three are eligible for the early intervention program, which sends therapists to children’s homes. If kids need therapy after three, they continue at speech centers like Heracleous-Kyprianou’s in Astoria.  If they are still behind in pre-K, they receive an Individual Education Plan.  To qualify for a program, the children are evaluated by two or three independent child psychologists, many of them bilingual.

Heracleous-Kyprianou believes uptown parents often don’t realize such programs exist. “They need to know they’re available and free,” she says. “There’s a lot of kids around here, but there’s no awareness of what to do.”

Crowley says there aren’t enough bilingual speech therapists and that the city and state are seeking funding to train more. “We definitely need more bilingual Spanish speech pathologists who understand how to distinguish a disability from normal second language acquisition,” she says.

Gregory Hodge displays one of many financial prizes he wrangled during his tenure as principal at Frederick Douglass Academy. (Photo: Ali Leskowitz)

After months of anxiety about losing principal Gregory Hodge, who’d steered their school to greatness over 14 years, students and parents at Frederick Douglass Academy in West Harlem are adjusting to a newcomer from Queens.

Hodge, injured in a fall that damaged his hand, arm and shoulder, announced his retirement in June, but stayed on during the transition. Uneasy parents launched a petition asking him to stay. “I’m concerned about having a principal that will pass the legacy on,” says Keisha Bruno, who signed the petition despite no longer having children at Frederick Douglass. “It can’t just be anyone.”

“It’s not an easy situation because I’ve been here so long and you have to continue what we’ve started,” Hodge explained, lapsing into the plural that often punctuates his descriptions of the school. Hodge seems hesitant to take credit for the school’s successes, instead emphasizing the community he’s built during 14 years as principal.

His replacement, Joseph Gates, former principal of the Susan B. Anthony Middle School in Queens, took the helm about six weeks ago and has maintained a low profile; he didn’t respond to interview requests.

Parents seem positive, but tentative about the change. “It’s a big adjustment,” says one who requested anonymity. “It’ll take time to see how it really affects the school and the students, but we’re all hoping that everything works out for the best.”

A public college prep school serving grades 6-12, Frederick Douglass Academy boasts academically successful students—99 percent of last spring’s graduating seniors went to college—and a graduation rate of 85 percent. In one hallway, a bulletin board lists students’ college acceptances and decisions: Harvard, Yale, University of Virginia, University of Pennsylvania. “Dr. Hodge is concerned about his students’ success not just in high school but in college,” says Jerome Hyacinth, a program chair and attendance coordinator at Frederick Douglass.

Larry Strickler, who works for undergraduate admissions at Baruch College, agrees. “His students, when they come to us, they’re prepared,” Strickler says.

Jokingly referring to Frederick Douglass as “Stuyvesant North,” Hodge defines his educational philosophy as providing a public school run like a private school. “My kids should have the same quality education they get at Horace Mann or Riverdale,” he said in an interview before he retired. He introduced Advanced Placement classes and travel abroad programs, along with partnerships and mentorships with such companies as HBO and the Gap.

Hodge himself grew up in Harlem and the Bronx without the support of his parents, who had died by the time he was 16. “Him living on the street, being in the shelter, he has a soft spot for the kids,” says Yvette McKenzie, FDA’s parent coordinator. “He’s hard, really hard, but it works.” College office advisor Caroline Lai-Turay recalls Hodge sending her to buy socks and other clothing for students in need.

This caring extended beyond students, staff members say. Teacher Tara Bramble owes her career to Hodge, she says; he encouraged her to finish her degree when she’d only completed 26 credits. “Dr. Hodge’s foresight gave me the courage to become the counselor that I am,” Bramble says. “I was able to do a good job because of him.” Bramble now has 159 credits and expects to graduate soon.

“He’s a legend,” adds Japanese teacher Mas Ichida. “It’s not just the school that’s going to be missing Dr. Hodge—it’s the whole education department, the city of New York.”

Administrators found this true; many potential replacements were scared off by Hodge’s mandate that the school remain open seven days a week. Hodge referred to the parade of candidates as a “comedy club.” However, the field narrowed through three levels of interviews and several background checks. The eventual selection, Gates, served as principal of the Susan B. Anthony Middle School for 10 years. “He is bright, hard working and committed to the mission of FDA and will help our school achieve even greater success,” said Hodge, whose last official day was October 31.

The slow changeover may have reflected Hodge’s reluctance to leave. “If it were not for the accident, I would be retiring in 10 years,” Hodge said. Two surgeries have been unable to repair the injuries sustained in his fall, however. “You have to know to walk out when you can walk,” he joked.

While parents and teachers worry about filling his shoes, Hodge seems less concerned. “We have a good foundation. The school’s going to continue on,” Hodge said. “You have to believe in the kids and then you’ll be a good principal.”

Jacki C. cofounded the NYSYLC and established a mentorship program for immigrant teens. (Photo by Yumna Mohamed)

Adapting to life in the United States was not easy for Jacki C. She was 14 when she made the trip from Puebla, Mexico, with her sister and uncle to join her parents, who had immigrated to New York illegally a year earlier.

After attending high school in Washington Heights, she wanted to further her studies, but guidance counselors could offer little advice on applying to colleges without immigration papers.

“Undocumented high school students are often misinformed by their guidance counselors and teachers,” said Jacki, who asked that her full name be withheld. “They have no training in dealing with these kids´ challenges, so they tell them their only option is to forget about college, they should just get their GED and then get a job.”

That’s why Jacki introduced the mentorship program, a pilot project of the New York State Youth Leadership Council, to ensure that young illegal immigrants learn about their options to attend college in New York and that they get the help they need to take these chances. Jacki co-founded the New York State Youth Leadership Council in 2007 to push for equal access to higher education for undocumented immigrants.

About 765,000 students between 13 and 18 years old arrived in the United States illegally in their early teens, and 65,000 students without immigration status graduate from U.S. high schools every year, according to a 2007 study by the Migration Policy Institute.

The youth group´s program pairs high school students with illegal immigrant status with mentors who are also without papers and have been through the  challenges of applying to, and paying for, college.

“That’s what makes this program so unique,” said Jacki. “The mentors have been there and the students can see themselves reflected and can say, `If they did it while undocumented, I can do it, too.´”

In its first year, the program served a small group of eight mentors and nine students, seven of them now enrolled in colleges, some even with small scholarships. Students who showed the most need for support were chosen to participate. The first cycle started in January, when high school seniors were paired with their mentors.

Although New York State passed a 2002 law providing illegal immigrants access to in-state tuition rates, few students are aware of this, Jacki said. Even those who are often find themselves overwhelmed by the application process,  different than for students with legal status.

“There are residency forms and affidavits to complete and students who don´t know how to go about this are charged international fees, which are two or three times more,” she said. “Undocumented students don´t qualify for financial aid and when they can´t afford to pay these rates, they feel like college is beyond their dreams.”

Janeth, 18, one of the first students to go through the mentor program, arrived from Mexico at age 2 and has lived most of her life in East Harlem. Surprisingly, she was one of only two undocumented students in her high school, where she felt the teachers and principal didn´t have time for her. While Janeth´s friends were applying to Ivy League schools, she simply felt lost.

“There was no one who wanted to guide me,” she said. “It´s hard to meet people like yourself who have the same challenges, and you can´t go around telling people you are undocumented.”

Janeth´s mentor, Bernice, helped her learn more about scholarship options and campus life. Now in her first year at CUNY’s Bronx community college, Janeth wants to major in psychology and hopes to mentor other students someday.

“I know, especially in my community, kids don´t apply to college when they´re undocumented,” she said. “I would like to help them get a different perspective.”

In light of the growing debate around equal access to education, more universities are making it clear that they welcome students from all backgrounds.

“CUNY is open to all, and its services are available for students regardless of their immigration status,” said Sofia Carreño, spokeswoman for CUNY Citizenship Now, which offers immigration services to students and to the community.

She added that while undocumented students don’t qualify for state and federal financial aid, CUNY has some privately-financed scholarships for those who show outstanding academic performance.

After moving to the United States from Quito, Ecuador, at 7, Gabriel Aldana, 24, is finally on his way to getting a green card thanks to his U.S.-born brother, who turned 21 this year and can now sponsor his family´s citizenship applications. Unaware of the in-state tuition law, Gabriel got his finance degree from Baruch College because it was more affordable than paying out-of-state tuition at one of the colleges he preferred.  Only after he graduated and became involved in immigrant youth advocacy did he recognize his missed opportunity.

“I thought I was the only student in this situation,” said Gabriel,  a recruiter at the non-profit AIDS organization GMHC. “But then I connected with people who were in the same situation, pushing this image of what it means to be undocumented and the injustice of not having access to higher education.”

Marco, the student he mentors, has enrolled in college, but Gabriel maintains contact  and once a month takes him to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, prompting Marco to take an art history course. They also work to expand their vocabularies by regularly texting each other new words and definitions.

The Department of Education does train high school guidance counselors to deal with students who are illegal immigrants,said spokesman Thomas Francis.

“Our goal is to have every counselor provide the guidance students need to move on to college and beyond,” he said. “We have an extensive training program available for counselors so they can be prepared, and we encourage them to work with individual students to address whatever questions they might have.”

Jacki hopes to expand the mentorship program to all five boroughs and to individual high schools. The group is also working to start “college clinics,” one-day events where mentors visit high schools and set up stations where students can  work on their college applications.

Through the mentoring program, the group wants to push for the state and federal passage of the  DREAM Act, a bill that was reintroduced in the Senate in March 2011 after being first introduced in 2001, which would give permanent residence status to illegal immigrants who attended college in the United States.

“With a DREAM team on campuses,” Jacki said,”we can teach undocumented students to drop the fear and stop being afraid of their status.”

Renaissance Leadership Academy's Principal Qadir Dixon counsels a student living in temporary housing. (By Paolo Lorenzana)

Sitting attentively, smartly dressed with a black cardigan over her school uniform, 14-year-old K. looks like a model student. She’s the sort of middle schooler who wastes no time getting her homework done, though it would be inaccurate to call it that. K., who’s in foster care, has no permanent home she and her seven-year-old sister can call their own.

Her school, therefore, has become a haven. Like others uptown, it is fortifying its Students in Temporary Housing (STH) program.

“Since I’ve been to school, everything that I need, I have,” says K., an eighth grader at the Renaissance Leadership Academy on West 126^th Street. (Because most classmates don’t know her homeless status, the Uptowner is withholding her name.) “If you need anything, like a shirt or something, you just tell the parent coordinator and they’ll get it. Say, if you need lunch, they’ll buy it for you.”

“We do have students that are in shelters and they’ve been removed from their homes,” says Academy principal Qadir Dixon. “We have a lot of single-parent families—mom is really mom and dad. We have a lot of grandparents that are raising their grandchildren. It’s an array.” At school, “when you come here, you come to another family environment.”

The number of homeless students in New York City has quadrupled since 2008, data gathered by the city’s Department of Education indicates. In Harlem, too, “the incidence of student homelessness has significantly increased over the years,” says Emily Kramer of the New York State Technical and Education Assistance Center for Homeless Students (NYS-TEACHS).

Comparison of homeless students between school years 2007-2008 and 2009-2010

During the 2007-2008 school year, city data showed a total of 4,841 students with no fixed residence in Harlem Districts 4, 5 and 6. Two years later, the number of homeless students there had risen 41 percent to 6,531. District 6, encompassing Washington Heights and Inwood, had one of the city’s highest populations of homeless students. Citywide, the highest number of homeless students attended schools in District 10 in the Bronx; the fewest were in Bayside, Queens.

In Harlem, more than half of those students categorized as homeless lived in shelters, followed closely by those living in multiple-family households, where families were forced to move in with relatives or friends.    Nearly 500 students were classified as “unsheltered” or unaccompanied, including those not in the custody of a parent or legal guardian.

With so many students in temporary housing, schools like Harlem School of the Arts on St. Nicholas Avenue are expanding their Students in Temporary Housing programs.

“We look out for them,” says Aubrey Lynch II, dance director at the arts school. “We’re designing programs to work with organizations like Harlem Children’s Zone and once we get these new programs on their feet, we’re looking for new ways to take care of kids who are dropping out of school.”

At West Harlem’s P.S. 129, where seven percent of students are homeless, grants the school receives are allocated to “incentive trips” such as excursions to see “The Lion King” on Broadway. “We try to give them a little extra,” says P.S. 129’s Community Coordinator for Student Affairs Sherry Cyrus. “A lot of times we find that they do need a little extra attention academically. Perhaps based on the their home environment, it may not be conducive to them doing homework,” she explained. “We get together and identify those students, and then we collaboratively decide what special projects we can put them on.”

Renaissance takes a spirited approach to accommodating homeless students. Beyond the city’s Title I funding to schools with high percentages of disadvantaged children, the school fulfills the requirements of the federal McKinney-Vento Homeless Assistance Act by providing additional support to homeless students.

“We’ve had students in temporary housing who were leaving here five o’ clock and we weren’t sure if they were going to get another meal ‘til breakfast, so staff members got sandwiches and Oodles of Noodles and they would give care packages to take home,” says Dixon, its principal.

Under the federal McKinney-Vento Homeless Assistance Act, schools and local education agencies must have liaisons work with shelters to make sure homeless children are enrolled in school. Since the onset of the U.S. economic downturn, loss of homes have led families like Alana’s to seek temporary refuge in shelters.

A resident of the Old Broadway Family Center on West 126^thStreet since August 2010, Alana (who requested anonymity) says finding a  school for her five-year-old girl was one of the first things the shelter helped her with as she interviewed for a job. “Even when I needed an after-school program, the school liaison was the one who

Old Broadway shelter resident Alana, mother of a pre-K student at P.S. 129.

found one for my daughter,” says Alana, whose daughter Zara is in kindergarten at P.S. 129 and goes to the Antioch After School Academy on West 125^thStreet. “They come to P.S. 129 and pick up my daughter and then take her back. They do activities and stuff like that—it’s supposed to be $ 60 a week but I don’t actually have to pay for it.”

Families have escaped domestic violence can also swell the ranks of homeless students. Assigned to a one-bedroom apartment in Old Broadway by the Department of Homeless Services, Grace, a mother of two sons, is working with its education liaison to enroll her son in a school nearby. “He used to go to school near my former shelter,” she says, referring to a domestic violence shelter she and her boys shared an apartment with another family for four months.  “Now that place is far, so I can’t take him there every day. That will cost me a lot and we have to wake up really early.” The liaison will inform her if a nearby school has space for her son, she adds, but as she looks for work, the issue grows more urgent and “I don’t want him to miss school this year,” she says.

While the state education department says homeless kids face a greater risk of encountering educational problems and dropping out, Dixon finds homeless students may have greater incentive to perform well. “When it’s time to leave at four, they’re staying ‘til 4:45 to get that extra math tutorial,” he says.

While hoping to be adopted, bright-eyed K. lives at a foster care facility on West 181^st Street. One of those homeless students highly involved in her middle school’s tutorials and extracurricular programs, she looks forward to tutoring younger students as part of the school’s mentorship program. “But right now, one subject I can do better in is math,” says K., who attends math tutorials after school. She also assists the school’s flag football team coach and sings in its recording artist program, all to build a strong high school application portfolio. “One high school I want to go to is LaGuardia and I want to have at least seven portfolios…in ELA, science, Spanish, and especially music.”

Dixon says K. might well qualify for LaGuardia, the competitive music and performance arts school the film “Fame” was based on. “She’s progressed every month of every year academically. Last year, she made the honor roll, which is a goal she set. She moves around a lot but the one consistent force she has is here,” says Dixon, noting that K. began the 6^th grade an unconfident student.

“When she first came in, she would have never sung in front of the entire school,” he said. “Last year, at our awards ceremony, she opened up with the school song.”

Kelvin Perez teaches students at the Technology Services Corps. (Photo by Lucy Pawle)

The students at the Technology Services Corps program gaze at Kelvin Perez, their teacher for the next 22 weeks. “If you work hard, and you take everything we teach you on board, you can go far,” he says. “You can earn six-, even seven-figure salaries.” Excited whispers fill the classroom: Most of the 18 students come from low-income Manhattan neighborhoods where such salaries are a largely alien concept.

The program, launched last month in East Harlem, provides free IT training, mentoring and internships to students 18 to 25. The course prepares them for the A+ certification required for employment in the tech industry. The Corps aims to get all the students jobs, either with corporations or non-profits.

Brooklyn-based for the last six years, this represents the program’s entry to Harlem, an expansion funded largely by a $100,000 investment from Accenture. Perez sees the course as vital for creating opportunities in a neighborhood where unemployment typically runs double the city’s average rate, currently about 7.8 per cent, according to the city labor department.

“There’s a lot of disadvantages for kids in here. These programs are a way to even out the playing field,” Perez says.

His words strike a chord with Harlem native Raymond Flowers, 24. “I look at my family and they live paycheck to paycheck and I don’t want to live like that,” he says.

The Harlem classrooms occupy an elementary school’s third floor on 123^rd Street and Second Avenue.  The drab rooms, broken projector and lack of textbooks belie the course’s track record. With an 85 per cent graduation rate from 26 classes over six years — each with about 20 students — Technology Services Corps can brag about transforming students’ lives.

“If you go to one of these graduations, I just stand there and cry because it’s so life-changing for these kids,” says Stephanie Cuskley, CEO of NPower, the non-profit that runs Technology Services Corps.

The Corps has schooled former criminals, parents, school dropouts, and many with complicated home lives. A permanent counselor is on staff, but the course’s success to date may stem from a lengthy and competitive application process, which requires references, a cover letter, a writing test and an interview.

“We screen them for certain qualities” says Program Director Patrick Cohen. He lists “willingness to learn, a good attitude, and commitment to our program” as the most important. He adds that 20 per cent of the course teaches professionalism, “life skills and how to conduct themselves,” and that the five-day-a-week, nine a.m. to one p.m. course is “a huge commitment.”

Schools, churches and other community organizations usually refer students but in Harlem, recruitment was not as easy. Fewer students were referred through the normal channels. “We were a little disappointed,” admits Cohen, who at one point even asked students to tell their families and friends to apply.

During orientation, Perez promised that the course could “put you guys in the position where you can break through the cycle of not feeling empowered or feeling that life is one dead-end street.”

Successful IT professionals play a role in that process. Accenture offers several of the five-week internships that all students take; other companies offering internships include the New York Times, investment bank UBS and accounting firm Deloitte.

In one lesson, Perez asks the students to find three jobs advertised on the Internet that might interest them, and to write cover letters. “If it makes six or seven figures a year I’ll make sure I’m interested in it,” jokes one student.

But a graduate with only the A+ certification stands little chance of earning six or seven figures. A more realistic salary is $50,000, for a job doing the basics – “small work,” says Paul Flaharty, regional vice president of Robert Half Technology, an IT recruiting agency. Those with strong Windows experience “may be able to find positions as a junior desktop support,” Flaharty adds.

Perez acknowledges that those aiming for top salaries would have to go on to college for further credentials. Alumnus Bleuberthol Scott, 27, suggests that the course should earn college credits “towards degrees that so many of us want to attain after we finish the program.”

However, IT is an expanding sector with an increasing demand for experts, and Cohen is confident the training will give the students skills for long-term employment. “It’s 2011 and IT drives the world and the economy, so the kids can pick the technology up quickly and add value to non-profits and companies,” he says.

Most graduates do get jobs, 70 per cent at non-profits and others with corporations. Scott uses the skills he learned “practically on an every day basis” as IT coordinator for the downtown literary center Poets House Inc.

Joshua Cortez scored a job at the online stock brokerage TD Ameritrade, where he interned during the course. “It’s the reason I have my job and a start to my career,” he says.

However, not all the students see their futures in IT. Michael Rogers-Thomas, 20, wants to work in fashion. “This is a stepping stone to helping me secure financial stability. That way I can go back to school and be independent,” he says.

Students seem to find the commitment worth making: Many had complained of a lack of such courses uptown. “I was so happy when NPower came to Harlem,” says Flowers.  “There’s not a lot of programs like this.”

Administrators at JHS 13 have been working to improve the school environment. (Photo by Sarah Tan)

To start each school day, Principal Jacob Michelman makes morning announcements at a motivational assembly at JHS 13 Central Park East Middle School. As they leave to start classes, the middle schoolers yell “Destination Excellence!” –  the school’s motto.

Yet in September, the school was labeled “persistently dangerous” by the Department of Education. “Persistently dangerous” refers to schools that have had at least two successive years of incidents such as assault, possession or threatened use of a weapon, sexual offenses and robbery. This year, 19 schools were given this label, nine of them in Manhattan.

In the latest available Violent and Disruptive Incident Reporting for 2009, JHS 13 reported 39 altercations without weapons, five incidents of weapon possession and 120 “other disruptive” incidents which, according to the Department of Education, includes any incident that disturbed classroom activities “to a level of consequence.”

Michelman, aware of the school’s ongoing behavioral problems, said that in the past few years, his staff has actively worked to improve the school environment.

“We go above and beyond. Even at dismissal, my staff extends themselves and will walk the kids home if they feel they need it,” Michelman said.

When Michelman took the job in 2005, after a period of administrative upheaval that included two principals in a year, the school was “very rough,” he admitted. However, peer counselors who work directly with students said that the school has improved substantially since then. Peer counselor Jacob Scott, who works in the school’s “student management office,” a detention room where he also speaks with troubled students, said that last year saw only one case of a student found carrying a weapon.

“This is nothing like the kids we used to have. We always ask ourselves, are the kids getting smaller in this school?” Scott said with a laugh. Scott has advised children in this school since 1996. “Kiddie bullying” exists, he acknowledged, but it’s nothing like it used to be.

Michelman has been waging a hands-on campaign. In addition to the assembly each morning, he has created a school blog where he posts updates about the school’s progress. The school has also launched multiple anti-bullying campaigns and teachers constantly push for greater parent involvement.

Michelman insists, therefore, that JHS 13 was wrongly placed on the violent schools list this year due to a new reporting system called Teacher’s Ease. He believes that teachers overused the system, reporting petty incidents in an attempt to discipline students.

Scott, usually the first to review the reports, scrolled through those received on a recent weekday.

“So-and-so threw an eraser in class, so-and-so refused to stay in their seat – see, these are the kinds of incidents that are being reported now,” Scott said. Several teachers agreed that even within the past year, the school has a different feel. This year the school has released a “clearer” discipline code and is staging more conflict intervention sessions to prevent fights.

Eighth grade teacher Robert Damante, who joined JHS 13 last April, works with students classified with such “behavioral issues” as Attention Deficit Disorder. Though the children can be rowdy, he said, they aren’t dangerous; many are just frustrated.

“When you just look at the numbers, they don’t tell a whole story,” Damante said. “There’s never more than an argument in my class, and even then, there’s only been one real fight where two punches were thrown.”

Damante felt that the persistently dangerous label was most harmful to the students. When the school was placed on the list, his class got letters sent home.

“My kids kind of feel like they’re already on the low end of the spectrum,” Damante said. “That extra label is more hurtful than anything else. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy: you tell them they’re dangerous and they’ll act dangerous.”

Maggie Samayoa recently enrolled her son Marek Nowell, 11, in the sixth grade at JHS 13. She said that though many of her friends told her that the school was dangerous, she visited the school and afterwards decided to try it for a year.

“Some people were telling me it’s a bad school and that used to make me confused,” Samayoa said. “I told my son, let’s try it and if it’s bad then we’ll change it.”

She has mixed feelings about the school: she likes the teachers but her child has experienced some bullying. In September, another student stabbed Marek in the leg with a pencil. One day, Samayoa came to walk him home after he called to say that someone threatened to beat him up after school.

“It got me pissed, because I was getting nothing but complaints about my kid,” she said. “I’m not saying all kids are saints, but I was not hearing anything about the kids who are bullying him.”

Samayoa added, however, that the school has a strict discipline system and is usually quick to resolve conflicts. The threat her son reported was diffused quickly by a nearby security guard, she said.

With the school currently holding open houses for next year, Michelman says the label won’t effect the school’s enrollment.

“If you just come in, you’d see it’s a very safe place with a lot of support for the children,” Michelman said. “We’re trying to have parents come in and see for themselves.”

Attuned to what parents are thinking, Michelman noticed that parent satisfaction has dipped since last year. In addition, though the school seems to have found a way to keep hallways relatively safe, average state test scores for the students have slumped as well. Michelman said that he’s always concerned about striking the right balance between discipline and academics, and he is convinced that what his school can raise test scores this year and change opinions.

“You always have to work on culture and academics simultaneously,” Michelman said. “We just need to stand strong.”

Classes start early at KIPP STAR, the first elementary charter school in Washington Heights. (Photo by Lina Zeldovich)

Breakfast begins at 7:15 at KIPP STAR Elementary, the first elementary charter school in Washington Heights, which opened this fall sharing space with Alexander Humboldt Public School 115. Classes begin at 7:45 and continue until 4p.m. when parents form an orderly queue outside on 177 Street.

During their long day, the 101 kindergarteners — who wear khaki pants and skirts and green shirts with big beige stars,KIPP STAR’s symbol — learn numbers, letters, theater and movement.  They have lunch. They take naps.

Unlike Harlem, home to 22 charter schools, Washington Heights previously had only two, Equity Project and New Heights Academy, both opened within the past five* years to serve middle-schoolers. KIPP, which preps mostly African-American and Latino students from poor neighborhoods for college, operates three schools in Harlem and three in the Bronx, yet had none in Washington Heights until this year.

KIPP STAR was also originally planned for Harlem, but space became available at Alexander Humboldt, says principal Anokhi Saraiya.

“It’s a matter of space,” she says, explaining that the Department of Education finds under-enrolled schools in which to house charters. Alexander Humboldt can accommodate 1000 students, but had fewer than 700. “We don’t decide where we open,” Saraiya says. “DOE provides space and we get it.”

Saraiya, who has two master degrees in education and taught at Public School 8 in Washington Heights for eight years, spent three years preparing for her new role. She taught sixth grade at KIPP College Prep in Harlem for a year to learn the charter’s culture. Then she visited KIPP schools around the country to lay out plans for KIPP STAR. It takes a leader to launch a charter school, she says.

To Saraiya, KIPP’s success lies in a teaching approach that focuses on individual students and their needs.  KIPP teachers, she says, are always aware of  “what students are learning and what they still need to learn.” KIPP assigns two teachers to kindergarten classes so that children can receive small-group instruction when necessary.

Children often work in small groups at KIPP. (Photo by Lina Zeldovich)

Barbara Duran says her son, Daniel Keylap, has adjusted to the long school days. “He’s been in preschool for a long time,” she says.  “It’s good, they do a lot.”

Critics argue that KIPP doesn’t serve enough non-native English speakers or students with special needs. But according to KIPP’s statistics, its seven established New York charters serve 99 percent African-American or Latino students, 1,739 children in all. Approximately 23 percent of KIPP STAR students speak Spanish while learning English, so every class has one Spanish-speaking teacher.

Saraiya says the school also employs a speech pathologist who comes three times a week and an occupational therapist. “About 79 percent of our students receive free lunch,” she adds, meaning that they’re from low-income homes.

KIPP, which stands for Knowledge Is Power Program, is a nationwide network of charter schools started by Mike Feinberg and Dave Levin in Houston and the South Bronx. KIPP doesn’t require admission testing, but administers a lottery when it gets more applications than there are seats. “We had 309 students originally apply for our school prior to our lottery in April, and we accepted 104 students,” Saraiya says. “Everyone who wins the lottery gets in.”

Jacqueline Tabb, a parent who learned about KIPP from her internet research, was pleasantly surprised when her son was accepted and the principal came to meet the family.  “It’s unlike any other school,” she says as she hurries up the stairs to pick up her five-year old.

According to New York City School District 6 data, Washington Heights public schools’ academic proficiency remains low – only about 30 percent of middle school students were proficient in English and 40 percent were proficient in math. However, at Harlem’s KIPP Infinity middle school, students scored an average 53 percent proficiency in English and 85.5 percent proficiency in math, according to the City’s school performance report.

Saraiya says KIPP uses a math teaching method from Singapore, focusing on understanding what numbers mean visually. “We spend a month learning numbers one through five,” Saraiya said. “We look at groups of four or five objects and figure out which group is more than the other or less than the other.”

Drawing is part of the curriculum. (Photo by Lina Zeldovich)

Lenares Rodriguez, who lives on 193 Street, says her daughter loves the school and always talks about what she did in class. “They teach in small groups of, like, 16 kids,” she said, pointing out that KIPP’s classes are named after famous universities to start developing students’ college ambition early. “My daughter is in a Columbia class and her friend John is in an UCLA Class.”

KIPP STAR will eventually host grades kindergarten through four. Also in the works is KIPP Academy, a school for more than a thousand students, kindergarten through grade 12. It took Washington Heights longer than Harlem to establish its charters, but the neighborhood is catching up.

“We’re hoping to make a break this year,” says Steve Ajani, the New York KIPP co-principal and co-founder.

*Correction: The story originally reported that Washington Heights’s two other charter schools opened within the past three years.

Students held signs that read "Save Milbank" in protest of city budget cuts that would affect their afterschool program. (Photo by Sarah Tan)

On a blustery Thursday afternoon, about a hundred children and supervisors gathered outside the Children’s Aid Society at the Dunlevy Milbank Center in Harlem, waving colorful banners in preparation for the “Lights on Afterschool” march to protest city cuts to afterschool programs. This is the third year that the society has organized this march after its afterschool program began experiencing cuts in 2009. Since 2009, afterschool programs citywide have lost 50,000 slots.

This was the first year that children in the afterschool program at the Milbank center took part in organizing and participating in the march, and their chant of “What do we want? Afterschool! When do we want it? Now!” echoed down the sidewalk as they marched down Eighth Avenue from 118^th Street to the State Office Building at 125^th Street.

“This is the first time that the kids have come out,” said Lermond Mayes, a representative for Councilwoman Inez Dickens. “When you see the kids protesting, you can see how dire the situation really is.” Mayes also spoke at the protest.

The Children’s Aid Society, which runs a free afterschool program at the Dunlevy Milbank Center, has 225 children enrolled. This year, the center lost four afterschool slots due to budget cuts. Though the recent cut may seem trivial, Tracey Fuller, whose 9-year-old daughter is enrolled in the program, said that the center has a waiting list of about a hundred children.

“A lot of school programs here have been cut, and parents need to work and know their children are in a safe and productive environment,” she said. Fuller’s daughter attends Central Park East Elementary School, a school that doesn’t provide an afterschool program.

Angel Jackson, 14, has been coming to Milbank’s afterschool program for the past five years. He lives with a foster family, and his foster mother works long hours at a hospital. Before he attended the program, he said he used to get into a lot of trouble.

“I don’t know where I’d be if I wasn’t in the program — in jail or juvie I guess,” Angel said. “The program lets me go out into the world and show them what I’ve got.”

In light of the recent public school budget cuts that eliminated many low-wage employees who worked closely with children, the director of the center, Casper Lassiter, said the march was especially important this year.

“Based on the economic climate, the government needs to know that what’s going on in the city hurts entire families,” Lassiter said. “They need our services.”

For Angel, an afterschool program has meant the development of aspirations beyond Harlem.

“The program has helped me get out of my comfort zone,” he said. “I want to go to college, get a job, and get enough money to travel around the world.”

As the children reached their final destination under the awning of the State Office Building, Mayes asked the crowd to chant louder.

“Let’s make sure your councilwoman hears you,” Mayes yelled. “She’s right upstairs looking out the window!”