by Susan Scruton

Jamie was a year and a half old when his father and I separated in 1984. When it happened, I spent my share of the life savings on a month's rent and a week's groceries, and then applied for welfare. I'd like to say that I ended up on welfare through no fault of my own, that I was entirely a victim of circumstance, but it wouldn't be true. I made decisions that led, directly or indirectly, to welfare.

No matter how we got there, however, there we were: a young single mother with little education, no job and no prospects, and a little boy who was cheerfully oblivious to the implications of all that. Some might have said "You made your bed, now lie in it," but, fortunately, that wasn't the prevailing mood in 1984.

Jamie and I adjusted well to all aspects of becoming a single-parent family, except for the increased financial pressures, of course. There was no flexibility in the budget to accommodate mistakes, indulgences, or the unexpected. Within a few months I realized we couldn't go on like that indefinitely. Being on welfare seemed to get worse by the month. Things would wear out, break or get outgrown, and because I couldn't replace them, we had less and less all the time. I wanted so much more for Jamie, not just things but also the experiences that shape childhood memories, like summer camp, birthday parties, horseback riding, pets. I would never be able to provide that kind of childhood on welfare.

I wanted more for myself too. Mostly I wanted freedom from the incessant worry about money. Frankly, I didn't like money so much that I wanted my life to revolve around it, but there was so little of it that it really became central. Although I became skilled at budgeting and not spending money, I never got better at not worrying about it. I also wanted to be free of the stigma of welfare, before Jamie started to become aware of it too. Being on welfare is a humbling experience. I had to remind myself often that I was a good person and a good mother, and that our family only lacked money, not values, love, intelligence or character.

With the current backlash against the poor gathering momentum, I can only imagine how much worse the stigma is today. Poor people now live amid a constant bombardment of slurs on their character. It's bad enough to be poor, but to have to endure the stereotype adds insult to injury. Worse yet is when you start to believe the stereotype yourself and I think that happens to a lot of people. In a society that measures your success and worth by money, you re a failure. Everyone supposedly has equal opportunities to be successful, so you must be inherently deficient. According to the stereotype, you're stupid, lazy and useless. You're a liar and a cheat. You're a drunkard or a druggie. You're promiscuous, dirty and irresponsible. You're a drain on society, and your children aren't much better. You're not worth the meagre amount of money you are being paid to stay alive.

These are powerful messages, with the potential to become self-fulfilling prophecies. I've seen perfectly good people succumb to it and ultimately become paralyzed with self-doubt.

Getting off welfare isn't as simple as just deciding to do it. It took me a long time. First, I tried the obvious -- a job. I worked part-time at the corner store, while a neighbour babysat Jamie. But I worried about the quality of care Jamie was getting. Fully two-thirds of my minimum-wage paycheque went to the babysitter. I would have had to work about 67 hours each week just to pay the rent and the babysitter. This situation was hopeless, and after a few weeks I quit.

I knew then that I would either have to find a job that paid well (which was unlikely, given my level of education) or get a daycare subsidy. I qualified for a full subsidy, but there were no subsidized spaces available. I contacted dozens of daycare centres and had Jamie's name added to their waiting lists. Many told me not to expect a subsidized space to open for at least a year. This was disheartening, because it forced me to accept that welfare would be our lot in life for quite some time.

In the meantime, though, I tried to familiarize myself with the options that would someday be available to me. I visited the Women's Career Counselling Centre, and learned of a federally-funded program called Women in Non-Traditional Occupations (INTO). This was an intensive eight-week program, involving everything from assertiveness training to aptitude tests to work placements. It appealed to me because my male friends with the same education as me tended to earn more than my female friends. So I wanted a traditionally male job, with a traditionally male wage.

Eventually a daycare centre called with the news that Jamie had reached the top of their waiting list. We were invited for a visit and interview. Sunflower was a non- profit cooperative daycare centre, and parents were expected to contribute time to it. It was a long way from home, but I felt good about the centre and staff, and Jamie seemed comfortable. We accepted the space, and went to the welfare office to fill out the paperwork. According to the rules, I had three months to find work or start school; if I didn't, we would lose the subsidy.

So Jamie started daycare, and I registered for the next INTO session. INTO was a terrific program run by a wonderful woman. She convinced me to return to school. INTO ended on a Friday, and the following Monday I started working on my high school equivalency. Hundreds of adult students were there, each working at their own pace from a series of modules in maths, sciences and English. Teachers were available as resource people, but learning was self-directed. It took a year for me to earn my high school equivalency certificate. And my teachers urged me to take it further and go to university.

I chose the University of Ottawa because it was near Jamie's daycare centre. I was already commuting three hours a day, and that was enough. Still ambivalent about what I wanted to pursue, I applied to engineering and psychology, but they turned me down. Even though I had a 97-per cent average in upgrading, a high school equivalency certificate did not carry the same weight as a high school diploma. I was advised to take some university courses as a special student, achieve good marks, and then reapply. I was discouraged, but then I got a letter from the Sociology Department offering me a spot. I hadn't applied to sociology; I didn't even know what it was. I looked it up in the dictionary and accepted the offer.

As it turned out, I was better off financially while going to university, because my student grants and loans weren't deducted from my mother's allowance cheques. Welfare recipients cannot go to university, but mother's allowance recipients can, and by this time I had moved from welfare to mother's allowance. I was still below the poverty line, but the additional money made things easier.

My schedule was demanding. Between motherhood, commuting, classes, studying, cooking, essays, housework and errands, I worked 18 hours a day, seven days a week. In exchange for a $50 reduction in rent, I mowed grass, shovelled snow and kept the common areas of my apartment building clean. I was on the board of directors at the daycare centre, as well as the newsletter, hiring and fundraising committees. By the third year, I was also a teaching assistant at the university. Believe me, it was tough trying to squeeze beer and bingo into that schedule.

I did well in university. I won two merit scholarships, and used the money to buy my first computer in 1988. Although I was intimidated by computers at the time, one of my professors convinced me that computer skills were becoming critical in the job market. To my surprise, the computer became my hobby, and the skills I acquired were invaluable.

I graduated magna cum laude with a BA in criminology in 1989. Jamie was six years old and I was 30. We shared a sense of pride and optimism that day as I crossed the stage to receive my diploma, and he cheered me on from the audience.

Finding a job took longer than I expected. The only openings for new criminology majors involved night shifts at group homes something I couldn't do because of my responsibilities at home. I applied for a variety of jobs, and finally decided to do volunteer work with the Elizabeth Fry Society. I wanted some experience for my resume, and to put my degree to some use. I picked up occasional work as a supply teacher at a local high school. But volunteer work and occasional work weren't enough to support a family, so we had to remain on social assistance a while longer.

One day I read a newspaper article about child poverty. The writer, while sympathetic to the plight of poor kids, blamed their parents. It annoyed me enough to make me write a letter to the editor, which was subsequently read by a CBC reporter, who asked me for an interview. The interview was heard by a woman with the Ontario Community and Social Services Department. She phoned to tell me about a job-finding club for single parents and other disadvantaged people, and arranged to get me into the program. She also gave me a pair of skates for Jamie.

At the job-finding club I learned of a provincial initiative called the Social Services Employment Program (SSEP). The Ontario government encouraged non-profit and social service organizations to hire social assistance recipients, by providing a partial wage subsidy for one year. After the first year, the employer could either end the contract or start paying full wages. I read the listing of SSEP positions and found one I wanted. It was a position for an electronic information clerk at the Canadian Council on Social Development, essentially someone to work on CCSD's online activities. Since getting my computer, I had become very good in electronic communications, and after a brief interview, was hired on the spot. I have worked at the CCSD ever since, about five years now.

My job is the best thing that has happened to Jamie and me. It enables us to have some luxuries, such as a spacious apartment, a better computer, Internet access, a dog and a cat. Jamie will be 13 soon, and we're going to have a big birthday party. We tried horseback riding, and Jamie went to summer camp this year. The quality of our lives has improved immeasurably. Jamie says, " Now we can do things we actually enjoy doing. "

Meanwhile, I watch in dismay as politicians campaign on promises to take from the poor, as Canadians vote for these politicians, and as governments slash social spending with enthusiasm. There is a mean-spirited, self-righteous tone to all this, and some glaring contradictions at work. We say we can't afford to keep so many people on social assistance, and yet we are making it increasingly difficult for people to get off social assistance. By dismantling the programs that help the poor, we are sealing off all the escape routes, burning all the bridges out of welfare. Without these programs, without this fundamental investment in people, welfare recipients will remain welfare recipients because they will have no other choice.

I know women who are trying to escape welfare, and are doing so in the face of social spending cuts and the terrible insecurity those cuts represent. How do you commit to a long-term goal when you could lose your daycare subsidy any day, or your subsidized housing? How do you go to school when your income is cut by 21.6 per cent, when you can no longer afford a bus pass, and you hear tuition fees may soon quadruple? How do you maintain your self-esteem when every time you turn around, something else is being taken away from you, and everybody seems to agree that you didn't need or deserve those things in the first place?

Improving the lives of poor Canadians is hardly considered a worthwhile objective these days, given the prevailing mood of the country. People are more concerned - obsessed even - with the bottom line. So let's look at it. In my case, the government has saved about $60,000 in welfare payments, and I have contributed at least $25,000 in taxes, during the five years that I have been employed. That's $85,000, and climbing all the time. I don't know what it cost to fund my participation in the programs I used, but I'm sure it was less than $85,000.

Helping me to get off welfare was cheaper than keeping me on it. It's as simple as that. Even bottom-liners would have to agree, that investment paid off.

Susan Scruton is a research associate with the Centre for International Statistics at the CCSD and is the Council's network administrator. Jamie Cheesman is in grade eight, and enjoys reading, computer programming, Internet MUDs, and teaching his new dog old tricks.

Canadian Council on Social Development, 190 O'Connor Street, Suite 100, Ottawa, Ontario, K2P 2R3