Los Angeles Times. Los Angeles, Calif.: Jun
5, 1997. pg. 1 - JILL
LEOVY.
(Copyright, The Times Mirror Company; Los
Angeles Times
1997all Rights reserved)
Youth Hostile; Crime Prevention Program Tells
At-Risk Teens to
Think
Positive; [Valley Edition],
Tony Newsom
Tony Newsom sees crime with the eye of a
troublemaker who gre
up to be a cop. And the lesson he's learned
is simple: Delinquent
kids need attention.
They need, he says, using a phrase that would
seem trite but for his
earnestness--to learn to be positive.
Newsom now lives by that conviction. Deciding
that crime
suppression alone wasn't the answer.
On Wednesday, 30 eighth-graders in Santa
Clarita completed a
course he designed, one of 17 different
programs his nonprofit
company, Positive Results, conducts in the
L.A. area.
All the kids in the program at La Mesa Junior
High School were
failing classes and some had been in trouble
with the law. Many
have since staged academic turnarounds--some
astounding, others
modest.
That's good enough, says Newsom. Success is
when "you give me a
kid who is failing and cursing at his mother,
and by the end, he is
polite to his mother and we are getting a C
out of him," he said.
Newsom's program is one of scores of local,
community outreach
programs aimed at steering youth away from
gangs and drugs. He is
among a small but passionate group of workers
who believe their
efforts may save the costs of incarceration
later on.
Nationwide, serious crime has dropped 7% in
the last year, with a
larger 11.6% decrease in Los Angeles. In
Santa Clarita, where 40% of
those arrested are teenagers, the crime rate
dropped 17% in the same
period.
Demographics and more aggressive
law-enforcement tactics are most
often credited for the drop.
By contrast, prevention programs seldom track
the impact they are
having, and there is debate about how
effective they really are.
But advocates are firm in their belief that
this is the way to bring
crime statistics down for good.
In the San Fernando Valley, such programs
range from teen-
pregnancy prevention groups to softball
leagues in crime-ridden
neighborhoods. Many struggle along on
shoestring budgets, often
depending on volunteer labor.
Hope in Youth in Pacoima for instance has
helped thousands of
children and parents through mentoring and
tutoring programs.
Jeopardy, which is sponsored by the LAPD,
offers recreational
activities such as boxing for kids who
maintain a C average, and
leave their baggy clothes at home.
"You can't expect a miracle overnight. . .
but I see such a difference in
these kids," said Dara Laski, a volunteer for
the Police Activity League
Supporters youth center in Reseda. The center
opened a year ago and offers recreation, tutoring and
mentoring free.
"A lot of kids would choose to do more
positive things, but when it's
not even offered to them, what choice do they
have?" said Sandy
Kievman, who runs a Valley youth recreation
program called KYDS. In
crime-ridden neighborhoods, "what you see is
kids just standing
around. They do nothing," she said.
Around the country, researchers are beginning
to look at such
programs with a more critical eye. "Small
wins are the best you're
going to get" from most prevention programs,
said Arnold Goldstein,
director of the Center for Research on
Aggression at Syracuse
University. "More power to them. But no one
has magic in this
business."
A few years ago, such programs tended to
focus on preventing violent
crime by teaching children anger management,
said David Andrews,
professor of human development at Ohio State
University, a specialist
on preventing violent behavior in youth.
Andrews was involved in research that found
those programs to be
largely ineffective, he said. More promising,
he said, are programs
that involve long-term mentoring, often by
volunteers.
"If you look at what puts kids at risk, it's
the lack of a caring adult," he
said. "If you can introduce that in the form
of a mentor for two or three
years, you have a good shot."
Mentoring is at the heart of Newsom's
program. Raised in South-
Central Los Angeles, Newsom said he went
through a period of
partying with gangs and earning Fs in school
before turning his life around. Now he shares that
background with kids in similar straits.
At La Mesa, his program takes the form of a
once-a-week after-school
class. Students who are failing are asked to
participate with their
parents' approval.
Typically they say they want cars, houses,
clothes or Nikes. "I add it
up," Newsom said. "I say, 'OK, this is going
to cost you $2,200 a month.
How many of you make $2,200 a month?'"
The students spend the rest of the class
figuring out what careers
they want to get the things they want, and
how to get started.
What emerges are plans that range from the
far-fetched--to race BMX
bicycles, for example--to the pragmatic, like
14-year-old Alphonso
Amore's plan to work for a city parks and
recreation department.
When Alphonso was first selected for the
classes, "I was like, whoa. I
thought I was in trouble." But the class
turned out to be "cool," he
said. Alphonso is eager to talk about his
grades, which he said have
gone from Ds and Fs to Cs.
Rebecca Dalton, 13, saw her failing grades
turn into A's. She says she
wants to be a lawyer. She was failing, she
said, due to "being so
worried about other things besides school."
All told, about 85% of the students in the
class will graduate on time,
up from the 33% who were expected to
graduate, and the rest are
expected to finish their credits in summer
classes, Newsom said.
Skeptics say the results from prevention
programs generally are far
from clear. Many intervention programs "look
great on paper. . . but
there is no scientific evaluation telling us
they work," said Bob Moffit of
the Heritage Foundation, a conservative think
tank.
Moffit says public money is better spent
law-enforcement
solutions--nuisance-abatement measures, for
example, that have
proven effective in deterring more serious
crime, he said.
But those dedicated to steering kids from
crime are unfazed by
skepticism.
"These kids have pushed a lot of people away
already," said Newsom. "I'm not going to be pushed away
too."
Times staff reporter Beth Shuster contributed
to this story.