A foundation of hope

Published: April 4, 2011

Government generosity must have limits, even when the results are heartbreaking. Among many examples is the teenager without parents who on his 18th birthday is considered self-sufficient in the eyes of the state and thus outgrows foster care.

What would you do if you were that teenager, suddenly on your own with no money, no car, no job, no family and not much hope of staying out of trouble?

Or, picture yourself a high school student who has fallen behind in your studies and has no real chance to pass the FCAT or start a profession.

Examples like these are why smart, focused private charity is essential to the civic health of a community. It's one of the less visible ways the Community Foundation of Tampa Bay puts money where it does lasting good.

At a recent luncheon honoring donors who set up sizable endowments as a legacy, foundation president David Fischer emphasized the organization's low-profile Community Impact Fund.

Much of the big money spent through the foundation is directed by donors themselves. Results-oriented philanthropists appreciate the foundation's maximum accountability, high flexibility and minimal red tape.

But at the recent meeting, Fischer and other foundation leaders pointed out how its continuing financial support for nonprofit programs can also make big differences. The foundation puts smaller contributions and some other unrestricted funds into the permanent Impact Fund, which generates its own dividends.

The grants committee then gives the proceeds to selected projects, including programs to discourage students from joining gangs, help dropouts start a career and keep older foster children off the streets.

The after-school anti-gang program is run by the Boys & Girls Clubs of Tampa Bay. Club executive Chris Letsos says that 88 percent of the program's boys and girls are progressing through school with good attendance. Not one of the teen girls in the program has gotten pregnant, and every one of the boys and girls has avoided contact with the juvenile justice system.

For students who do fall behind, it can be nearly impossible in high school to catch up. Sandra Bailey, principal of the South County Career Center in Ruskin, heads a special school where students can get a second chance.

The school is helping 300 young adults study for and pass the FCAT and GED, and it also helps them pay for other tests and licenses that can be a barrier to good jobs. Bailey said her students learn high-demand skills, such as how to be a chef or a nursing assistant.

Even the tough problem of getting homeless older teens established in the world has solutions. To find them, Kathy Mize says her Ready for Life program in Pinellas County asked the kids themselves.

They found out that many children leaving foster care didn't know how to manage money, find work or get a driver's license. Her program starts advising them at 16 or 17, before they even know they need help, and provides guidance and support into their early 20s.

You're not likely to notice the impact of such intervention in young lives. Maybe the ranks of the homeless will be a little smaller. Maybe the criminal courts will have a little less business.

The highly successful folks whose generosity makes such work possible are as worried as the rest of us about the perverse incentives of welfare. But they also know that the ladder to success can be missing its lower rungs. Without a boost, some young folks will go nowhere.

Foundation chairman Gene Marshall calls the growing ranks of contributors "social bankers." Those who can afford it should join them; all of us should thank them.