High school dropout Niki Nimocks is back in school.
But it’s a school where talking in the cafeteria isn’t permitted-not even to ask someone to pass the salt. Mouthwash isn’t allowed because it contains alcohol, and hairspray is banned because it’s a potential weapon. She’s been told not to wear a watch worth more than $50 because it might get stolen, and she and her classmates have to march in platoon-size formations practically everywhere they go.
So far, she likes it just fine.
“I’ve been kicked out of school and I’ve dropped out,” said the 17-year-old from Rockford. “The teachers just didn’t act like they cared. The last time, it was the principal who advised me to drop out and get a job. I did get a job in a pizza place and a restaurant as a waitress, but I always got fired. I don’t have any discipline. I don’t take orders well.
“But you learn how to do that real quick here.”
“Here” for Niki and 207 other high school dropouts who have demonstrated various degrees of incorrigibility in their young lives is the vacated Chanute Air Force Base in Rantoul, where the Illinois National Guard is conducting an unusual voluntary boot camp called the Lincoln Challenge.
It’s a 22-week resident instruction program aimed at getting “at-risk” youths a high school general equivalency diploma (GED) and maybe a shot at a job with a future more worthwhile than their present.
The $7.7 million federally funded program, which began in Illinois and eight other states earlier this month (Connecticut started earlier this year), is being run on a military model to instill directionless kids with discipline, responsibility and self-worth.
The program was passed under the Bush administration but was delayed during the Clinton administration transition and by federal action after the Midwest floods, officials say.
The students, or “corpsmen and corpswomen” as they’re called, have been issued uniforms, are told how to line up their shoes on the floor of their rooms, are awakened at 6 a.m. and are kept almost constantly busy with academics, physical training and work projects until lights out at 10 p.m.
“I’m just totally overwhelmed,” said Nimocks. “It’s just very, very militant. But I suppose that’s the way it has to be. Most of us here are used to just sitting around and eating potato chips.”
The militaristic aspects of the program have not agreed with everyone. Program officials originally expected about 300 dropouts to begin showing up Sept. 19 after the program had been advertised around the state through radio and TV announcements. Only 238 came, and 25 of those quickly did an about face and went home.
In fact, several days into the program, corpsmen were told that their telephone privileges were being suspended and that parental visiting hours for the following Sunday were being canceled.
“Too many of them are calling mom and dad and saying, `Take me home,’ ” said Capt. Keith Chambers, one of the camp leaders. “I don’t like it.”
“Actually, there’s very little similarity between this and the military, other than the fact that the day is structured and they march to and from wherever they’re going,” said Capt. Noel Peaslee, one of the program’s administrative officers.
“One kid yesterday told me he was quitting because he didn’t like getting up at 6 a.m. and being told when to go to school and when to eat lunch. I asked him what he planned to do with his life, and he said he wanted to go into the Marine Corps. I then asked him how he expected to successfully complete Marine Corps basic training if he couldn’t do this?”
In addition to writing and math, students will be taught other skills, including how to do laundry, use a computer and balance a checkbook. Corps members will get a $30 stipend deposited into a special bank account every two weeks. They also will get anti-drug and “gang resistance” training.
Those who complete the program will be eligible for a $2,200 grant that can be used for further education or job training.
The corpsmen in the program outnumber the corpswomen by about a 9-to-1 ratio. About 40 percent of the participants come from Chicago and its suburbs. Some say they made the decision to come by themselves, others say they came at the urging of their parents.
Some were pushed from other directions.
“My probation officer said if I didn’t go, he’d tighten down on me,” said Colby Schaffer, 16, of Chatham, just west of Springfield. “So I went.”
The story of Schaffer, who would have been a senior this year, probably is typical.
“They said I was one of the main problems at school and said they’d kick me out the next time I got in trouble,” he said. “So I quit. I figured, why go back to school if I was going to get kicked out?”
Schaffer said he was not prepared for the level of discipline he found in Lincoln Challenge, but thinks he can stick it out.
“It’s kind of hard, but I guess you get used to it after a while,” he said. “The marching wears out my feet, and it’s hard to stay in step and learn all the moves. Also, I’ve gotten a little homesick. . . .
“But I don’t want to quit. I don’t want to be a quitter. If I do quit, I’d go back on the streets and have fun. But I’d rather have a GED behind me and get a job.”
Not every student arrived as a troublemaker.
“I just didn’t like school-we had a lot of gangs there,” said Kristie Myrickes, 16, who said she dropped out of Kenwood Academy in Hyde Park about 1 1/2 years ago. “I got hassled a lot. You know, public schools are not what they used to be. They really don’t care about you. They just want to try to get you out of there.”
Myrickes said she got tired of walking through metal detectors every day and walking in fear.
“One day we were at lunch and some guys from Hyde Park (High School) came to our school looking for a rival from a different gang. They chased him through the halls and right out of a third floor window.”
She continued: “At first, I was really scared when I came here. I thought it was so hard. But this is better than the public schools, and once you’ve been here awhile, you start to like it.
“I’m going to try to stick it out and do this for my family. After all, anywhere you go, you got to take orders.”
