Contact Name
Barbara Dietsch
562-799-5126
bdietsc@WestEd.org

I began my career as an educator in 1959. During the past 40 years of my work, the majority of my attention centered on young people and families in an attempt to enhance adolescent sexuality and prevent teen pregnancy. For many of those years my efforts seemed to produce (superficial) success and advances, but did not meet my objective, which was to help interested young people make fundamental changes in their lives on these important issues. I frequently felt these changes were close enough for me to touch but somehow out of my reach. My well-rehearsed workshops, constantly changing teaching approaches and use of the newest, most relevant teaching aids and methodologies were never able to effectively offset the after-program realities these young people faced: substandard housing; lack of economic opportunity; poor quality schools; inadequate health care; family fragmentation; and for some, the presence of neglectful or abusive adults in their lives. For many of these teens their lives had already been taken away without death, and they regularly experienced the assaulting, spiritually debilitating effects of institutional racism. Racism remains the central moral agony of our time. I believe it is these elements, not lack of information, that produce the cul de sac of hopelessness, desperation and fatalism — generating those lost voices, "No one cares about me," "I am alone" "I have no where to go". It is these elements that produce sexual risk taking and the haunting sexual tragedies affecting young people.

But when we look at teens we quickly see that they have enormous ambition but no advocates; they have bubbling vitality, but no prospects; they have enormous spiritual health but live in material poverty. When we move close to them and pay attention to them, we quickly learn that for many it is simply that their batteries are low — that is all — they suffer from low batteries. We all know about a low battery — that moment, early one morning when we try to start our car only to find that it will not turn over. Sometimes it seems it is just about to turn over — it is almost there, encouraging us to try again, harder, longer. Paradoxically, it seems the longer we try, and the longer we turn the key and do not get ignition, the weaker the energy becomes, draining away what little remains — causing us to stop in frustration and to try no more. Fortunately, nearby someone’s car has started, and is warming up. Our appeal for help is met when our neighbor’s car is brought close, very, very close alongside ours. The crucial transfer that is about to occur cannot take place at a distance; side by side or facing each other is critical; being very close is essential — "Come close to me" "get as close as you can". This helping person is not only there and willing to spend time to help us overcome our problems, but she also has some "jumper" cables in her trunk. With the cars now close and with hoods up and cables properly attached–not just anywhere, but on the correct poles — those special contact points allow the juice, the energy from the car that has the ample supply, and is in position to help, to begin the transfer process — a process that will take some time. Helping of this nature cannot be rushed; nothing will speed up the transfer. In time the transfer will occur but patience is necessary. And soon, almost miraculously, the battery that was low has been replenished and our car jumps to life. No new battery was needed, no discarding of the car was necessary. All that was needed was someone present who would take the time to stop what they were doing and come close with the correct tools — someone who knew the right contact points. In time, what seemed dead, springs to life and can move away on its own, no longer dependent on the connection that provided the help. But only because someone came close and gave what was present and alive in them to someone else.

I believe this is an accurate metaphor for our work in preventing teen pregnancy: Getting close; having the right equipment; knowing how to position the equipment in order to make the effective connection; taking the time to do the work; understanding how long it takes to genuinely help; and having realistic expectations about the process, and most of all, caring.

I believe the connection, the link between us and the teens we serve is caring. Genuine caring is the context within which all help occurs. When we truly care, we understand pain and suffering, and, in some cases, may even share such pain. Caring soothes, and the gentleness and tenderness of caring are like balms that heal wounds. Workers who care are liberated from their own burdening need to control and calculate. Caring is our human capital: a currency bubbling up from within, a well spring, fed by our spirit and breath. Caring is a deep desire, a passion to provide selfless help to young people, independent of governmental largesse, foundation priorities, or donor commitments. Caring cannot be downsized or cut. The core of really caring is when you do not know what to do, when you do not know how to soothe or cure, when you face the powerlessness of working with teens, but do not let these feelings stop you. Often, it is at these standstill moments that the opportunity for the most caring and healing emerges.

So this is what we do — we are Fishers of teens seeking a closeness to them, especially to those young people typically referred to as "At Risk" — who we should believe are "At Promise". Young people possess great gifts and talents, and are pure potential–many of those qualities simply camouflaged by a weak battery unable to ignite and move ahead on their own–waiting, waiting, waiting for someone to get close to them with their cables — the cables of genuine caring, to get close and hook up and remain there until they are ready to move on and make use of their abundant, inherent gifts.