Beating the odds

Aug. 8, 2007

If you think college is for everyone else but you, think again. Your defeatist mindset may be the only thing stopping you.
So says Charlene Lutes, who began a “Bridge” program 14 years ago at Northwestern Michigan College to help ease fearful students into the hallowed halls of higher education.
The program is meant for those who presume college is out of bounds because their parents never attended college. Or dropped out of school or had terrible grades or messed up their lives in ways they don’t even like to talk about. Maybe all of the above.
Lutes has taken no less than 1,000 students under her wing since 1993. Their ages have ranged from 17 to 67, and very few have failed to reach higher ground.

LUTES’ STORY:
Lutes’ own story is at the heart of the Bridge program. She can still feel the frustration growing up in the 1960s on an Indiana farm where “boys ruled.” She wasn’t discouraged from going to college, but she wasn’t exactly encouraged either.
“My parents fully expected me to quit college and get married rather than pursue a career,” she said.
But an aunt talked to her soon after she enrolled in college, and begged her not to drop out of school and marry. “I realized later that it only takes that one person to make a difference in your life,” Lutes said.
She majored in psychology, journalism and business at Ball State University and was doing well in her classes, yet her psych professor talked to her one day after class.
“He asked me, ‘Why do you always apologize for your contributions?’ I said, ‘Well, I didn’t know that I did.’ Oh yeah, he told me, you constantly apologize for answering a question. I told him, ‘Well, I guess I’m not very smart.’”
“Why do you believe that?” the professor asked her.
She explained to him that no one had ever told her she was a loser, “but there were little things I misinterpreted as I was just not measuring up. The expectations weren’t there that a girl would do anything valuable or change anyone else’s life.”

MAKING A DIFFERENCE
So her professor gave her a Wechsler IQ test. Lutes scored in the gifted range, but suspected the professor subconsciously made the test easier for her. So he had another professor give her the test. She scored well again. For Lutes, it was the first time she could hold a piece of paper telling her she was smart. Stunned, she asked her professor how many people walked around with the idea they weren’t good enough.
“A lot,” he told her. “They believe what they’ve been told all their lives and walk between the lines other people drew for them. I think you could make a difference with people like that.”
Lutes said that always stuck with her: “That’s why I’m doing this program. All these people sitting on this potential they’ve never seen. It’s like they’re in a dark hole, and I’m shining the light on them. ‘Come on out! There are people up here who want to help you!’”
Lutes herself spent decades spinning out her own destiny. She worked as a high school teacher, a journalist, and wrote educational film scripts. She traveled the world and wrote a travel column. She earned a master’s degree in social work, but social work wasn’t quite what she wanted either.
Then in 1993, she was asked to create a “bridge” program for people who were struggling with math. She immediately realized that the program had to be bigger than that. In order for students to succeed in the long-term, they needed confidence. And in order to gain confidence, they needed to work hard and succeed. The Bridge program was born.

EVOLVING
The Bridge class has evolved over time to meet the students’ needs. It’s one semester long and includes math, computer technology and communication classes. Classes are scheduled for two full days a week (night classes are optional) to make it easier for students to coordinate with a full-time job.
The students get help in navigating the maze of class registration, financial aid and scholarships. Lutes gives out names and phone numbers of people in the various agencies who can help out with jobs, daycare, and transportation.
The early days weren’t easy because some of the NMC staffers indirectly tried to close it down, Lutes said.
“When I asked for something, they always said yes to me, but it was not an easy yes. I had to fight every step of the way. They didn’t really understand what it was, and in those days, they’d say ‘That’s hand holding,’ which was a no-no. But I said, it’s not hand-holding, it’s customer service. In the end, there were just enough people who stuck with it to make it successful.”
Over the years, Lutes has given much of her time and own money. A few weeks ago, for example, she put out a call for bicycles so her students could get around.
“We got over a dozen offers immediately with a promise of several more,” she said. “Six were immediately donated from college staffers, and I bought another two for a total of eight. All but one are gone with a promise for more if needed.”

GROWING PROGRAM
Lutes believes that the program’s ability to evolve has helped it grow—from nine students in its infancy to 90 students this past year.
Lutes said 95% of those who enter Bridge stay with it for the entire semester. Seventy-seven percent immediately take more classes (most of the students work and attend NMC part-time).
Since 2000, 15 have completed a degree, but success is expressed in a far wider context than degrees, such as getting a promotion or honing needed skills. Nearly all of the Bridge students go on for advanced study or training. Some have moved onto the University of Maine, the University of Michigan, and Eastern Kentucky University. Those who stay here often go into nursing, social work or technical fields, she said.
Lutes said the idea is catching on at other community colleges. Not a year goes by that someone doesn’t seek out her advice. The program was even featured on CBS Sunday Morning last year.
But Lutes’ greatest source of pride is the students’ newfound confidence and hope.

TRAGIC ENDING
Not all the endings are necessarily happy. One young woman, a Native American, came to only two classes. Lutes feared her jealous boyfriend was pressuring her to give it up, but couldn’t reach the girl to talk to her.
“Pretty soon, I was picking up on the signs. There was no phone to reach her, so I kept calling the counselors who work for the tribe to go see where she was. I told them, she won’t answer the door for me, she won’t talk to me, so could someone there please check on her.”
Lutes’ worst fears were confirmed. One night, the girl’s boyfriend stabbed her to death. He was convicted and is now serving a lengthy prison sentence.
Afterward, Lutes consulted with the late Mary Lee Lord of the Women’s Resource Center, who advised that an abuse victim needs to be in a safe place before attempting college. Otherwise, there is too much pressure from her husband or boyfriend who might feel threatened by the changes. He may feel that his partner will become “smarter” than him, take on new opinions as she studies national and world events, or simply slip out of his control.
As Lutes has learned more, the success rate has climbed higher and higher. Here are stories of two students who completed the Bridge program last year:

JOHNATHON PATT:
Remember those resaons that some may think college is out-of-reach? Johnathon Patt, 39, was an “all of the above” kind of guy. Neither his single mom nor his three siblings went to college, he was a high school drop-out, and he’d done things he doesn’t really like to talk about. But he was nice enough to do just that because it might inspire someone else to attend college.
Patt doesn’t have good memories of his school years in Birmingham, Mich. The yards were big, the homes ritzy, and kids wore designer jeans with a price tag the size of his mom’s weekly paycheck. Patt didn’t fit in and he knew it – from the get-go.
Not only was he poor – he had dyslexia and struggled with reading. His teachers didn’t know how to help, and he ended up in special ed. “The only thing I remember from school is learning how to balance a checkbook and pretending to run a restaurant in junior high. I spent most of my time alone, fitting together nuts and bolts,” he said.
Because school was pretty much agonizing, he skipped a lot of classes and dropped out altogether at the age of 16 to work at a tire shop. With the solid training in nuts and bolts, he eventually became a plumber, but his business never took off because he lacked the requisite business skills. He spent too much time drinking, and a few years ago went to prison for drunk driving. Fortunately, he hadn’t injured anyone, and for that he was grateful, but he vowed he would never drink or go to jail again. “It is such a waste of life. You don’t do anything. I did get my GED (a high school equivalency degree) while I was in, but it’s a real pathetic lifestyle.”

READY TO CHANGE
Obviously, there was a lot of time for introspection and Patt realized he had “disrespected” most of his adult life. So when he got out of prison last summer, he was ready to change. Luckily, he came across an article about the Bridge program, and called up Lutes the same day. She met with him and helped him register for classes. She also connected him to a constellation of others who helped him find work and financial aid.
“I’ve had so much help, it’s unreal. Not just the financial part, but the moral support. People kept telling me I could do it and they helped me out. It leaves you with a good feeling. I have so much gratitude today. I don’t take my life for granted anymore.
The Bridge program fit him like a glove. The workload was challenging, but not overwhelming. Patt said that he learned strategies to attack his assignments. His NMC teachers are willing to change the way they explain something if he doesn’t understand it the first time.
For his part, Patt has stuck to the straight and narrow. “When you decide to change your life, it’s a package deal—you change your friends, you pay more attention to your spirituality, you don’t spend your nights at bars. My life right now revolves around school—purpose, responsibility and the idea I can accomplish everything I set out to do. We are told over and over again, establish your goals, follow up, and accomplish them.”
Lutes spent a lot of time talking to Patt and his classmates about confidence, and he took it to heart. He decided to also work toward his master plumbing license, which he hopes to get in March. “I should have done it a long time ago,” he said.
Meanwhile, he began doing odd jobs at his apartment complex last summer, and is now working for some of the most established businesses in town. “It was like a chain reaction. One job has just led to another. It’s just unbelievable.”
With Lutes’ encouragement, Patt took two communications classes last semester. English is his weakest academic area, but he is still holding a 3.46 grade point average. It was exhausting, but his pride is unmistakable. This summer, he’s taking computer technology classes and you’ll find him at M-TEC hitting the books.
“I’m pretty high on life right now. I go with the flow and try not to let any opportunity get past me.”

NICKIE GRAYS
The first time that Nickie Grays caught sight of Charlene Lutes two years ago she felt intimidated. Lutes sat at her desk, her framed university degrees behind her. She was wearing a conservative suit, her jet black hair perfectly in place. She looked so professorial, said Grays, who feared that the jeans she wore that day wouldn’t make the grade.
But her fear melted away after a few minutes.
“As soon as she started talking, I got more laid back. It all changed for me when she told me, ‘You can be successful.’ She told me that even if someone’s life is different than others, it’s important to look at those differences as a good thing. That it could lead you to what you’re really good at and to help other people. She wanted me to want more, and she was the first person to talk to me that way.”
“Her words,” said Grays, tapping her stomach, “hit me right here. I was so hungry to hear them. I wanted to tell her, ‘More, more, more!’”

RESILIENCE
Grays spent her early years in Texas in a neighborhood with kids who mirrored her own family. They were poor, dark-skinned, and played outdoors all the time. She remembers those as happy days, but all was not well. Her parents – both heroin addicts – had split up. Her father had married a new woman, who adamantly opposed drugs, and was able to get Grays’ dad to quit his habit.
Grays said her father felt he needed a totally fresh start to get away from his drug-using buddies. His minister said there was a chapter of the Latter Day Saints in Traverse City that could offer him and his family of four daughters a safe haven. So that’s how Grays, now 31, ended up in this “snow white town” at the age of 13.
Her father stayed clean “for about a minute,” said Grays. His addiction deepened and he often flew into midnight rages. Grays remembers barricading her door one night with a dresser so she could sleep without fear, but “my dad freaked out. I never did that again.” The four girls lived on very little — she remembers eating cornflakes and water. They kept their toilet working with rainwater collected outside in buckets.
At the same time, Grays said she suffered an identity crisis at the Traverse City High School. She was one of the very few black people among a sea of white people. “There was all this white snow and all of these white people. We had no mittens, no coats. We were cold and we were different.”
But she gained friends, and life went smoothly at school as she maneuvered the different cliques … “there were the preps, the jocks, the greasers, and the stoners.”
School was actually a refuge from home life. Her stepmom — fearing that her husband would one day beat her to death — took Grays and her sisters to a safe house run by the Women’s Resource Center. But her step mom knew they still weren’t safe — Grays’ father was angry and pursuing them. She felt the girls would be safer in the arms of a foster care family and reluctantly gave up all four.
So began an odyssey of transitions, a feeling of “start and stop” and never feeling a sense of accomplishment or closure,
Grays said.

AIDS TRAGEDY
She and her three sisters were a handful, and went from one foster home to another. Two years after moving to Traverse City, her father’s body became ravaged with full-blown AIDS. Her biological mother, who was also infected with HIV from sharing needles, moved up from Texas to care for him. She witnessed him waste away and die an intensely painful death, and committed suicide a few months later so her daughters wouldn’t have to see her suffer the same torment. A year later, Grays’ stepmom (who never used drugs) also died of AIDS.
Grays was able to confide in a few close friends, but she also felt there wasn’t an adult to fend for her. Yet she didn’t lose hope. She dual enrolled at NMC in a Youth Transition Program (a special program for wards of the state) while in high school. She worked part-time and attended classes, but her college was cut short with an unexpected pregnancy when she was 21. She dropped out and pieced together several jobs to support her daughter, Montana (now age nine). She had another child, Roman, four years ago.
Two years go, she decided she was tired of putting her life on hold and would forge ahead no matter what cropped up. She would go back to college and find a way to make it work. “I was just tired of all the dead-end jobs.”
She heard about Bridge when she talked to someone at Zonta about a scholarship. She knew she needed more grounding to succeed, and felt she could get it from the Bridge program. At the same time, the fall of 2005, she was going through a ministry program that reinforced what Lutes was saying.
“They both talked about looking at your weaknesses and figuring out a strategy to make them your strengths,” she said.

LEARNING DISABILITY
Grays learned through Bridge that she did have a learning disability—her brain often checked out while she was reading. To succeed in college, she would have to read an assignment several times instead of just once. “I just started accepting it. It isn’t a bad thing to have a learning disability. You just need to know how to cope with it.”
Grays’ story, as all life stories, is not simple. To earn money for her second year of college and to support her two children, she started a home care business, Great Lakes Support Services of Michigan. It was too much to handle, and it hurt her grades. She’s ready to try again this year, and just hired another employee to keep the business going and to give her more study time.
Her goal: not only to earn an associate’s degree in business, but to become a lifelong student … “I like the way I feel when I come out of class. You just feel smart!”
She sees herself as an entrepreneur –- maybe starting a hair salon that focuses on beauty, inside and out. She would also like to give back to the community with motivational speeches to troubled high school students.
For now, she’s committed to getting her degree, and knows that people are holding her accountable. And that’s good.
“There are no short-cuts in life. You just can’t just do immediately what you want to do. It’s all about process. If you want to be a lawyer, you have to start with college. You have to start with where you are and figure out how to earn the opportunity. Later in life, I know I’ll thank myself.”

To reach Charlene Lutes and find out more, call 995-1971.