September 2005

Weak morning sunshine coaxes puffs of steam from the manicured lawn in front of South Eugene High School.  In an hour, the school’s vast parking lots will fill with late model Hondas, Volvos and SUVs, and the teen drivers, many of them from Eugene’s upscale south hills, will congregate to flirt and talk and make weekend plans. The girls, sporting the latest from Abercrombie & Fitch, will tease each other about their latest LiveJournal entries. Another school day.

Behind the brick benches near the front entrance, a bundle of dew-damp blankets comes alive. Amanda has trained herself to sleep lightly, and the sun’s rays, the increased neighborhood hustle, and early morning traffic noises have wakened her from her final catnap. She scans the school’s walkways as she pushes a handful of dark curls from her forehead, rubs sleep from the corners of large almond-shaped eyes. She straightens her clothes, smoothing wrinkles from layers of T-shirts and hoodies, then brushes dust and grass off the bulging backpack that holds all of her possessions: a binder and some pens, a few changes of clothes, her toothbrush. She rolls her makeshift bed—a couple of blankets donated by a local shelter—into a manageable bundle. Her body aches from nights spent on a cold cement bed. Her stomach rumbles. She ignores it. She pulls the backpack straps around her shoulders and carries her blankets to the covered doorway at the front of the high school.

There she sits to wait for the first arriving staff member to unlock the door so she can stash her sleeping gear in her locker, wash up in the restroom and head to the school’s cafeteria for breakfast. Amanda, age 15, doesn’t want to be late for class.

Amanda’s situation is unusual but not unique.  There are about 3.5 million homeless people in America, and families with children are one of the fastest growing segments in that population. Children under the age of 18 comprise 39 percent of the total homeless count. In Eugene, that translates to about 1,000 homeless kids on any given night. Unaccompanied minors like Amanda account for about 5 percent of that total.

For Amanda, being homeless has become a way of life. Her biological father died before she was born, and since her stepfather abandoned them more than a decade ago, she and her mother have lived in a confusing array of temporary housing situations and homeless shelters. Amanda stops short of criticizing her mom—she knows it’s hard to be a single parent—but admits that her mom isn’t big on making good decisions.  The two have ping-ponged between Arizona and Oregon, where her mom eventually had another child, a little boy, adding to the stress of the constant moves.

Bouncing with her mom from one boyfriend to the next, watching her little brother grow up in a series of short-term homes and shelters, Amanda can’t remember how many addresses she has had. Since elementary school, she estimates her longest attendance at any school was a few months. The names and faces of all the teachers and short-term friends who have come and gone are just a blur. But Amanda knows one thing for sure, and it’s very simple: She doesn’t want to be like her mother. This job-to-job and town-to-town lifestyle is not for her. And in order to find stability, she knows she has to finish her education.

Landing in Eugene after another move—her mom was hoping to get financial support from her son’s father—the family found shelter at St. Vincent de Paul’s First Place Family Center, located across the street from the high school.  Amanda attended school there and found a group of friends she really enjoyed. That summer, she objected when her mom moved out of the Eugene school district to a tiny trailer in neighboring Springfield. Amanda says that soon there were guys, different guys, visiting the trailer at odd hours. She and her mom started arguing continually; things got loud, and the police showed up on a number of occasions. Her brother’s dad gained full custody of his son, creating another source of turmoil. Amanda stayed away from the trailer more and more, causing more fights and problems with her mother. By fall, her mom kicked Amanda out of the trailer, and she was on her own.

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