“This lawyer sat back and asked me two questions no one had ever taken the time to ask: `Hannah, why are you on public assistance when you are so articulate?’ and, `Why don’t you go back to school?’ “
Although this conversation occurred in 1982, Hannah Oakman recalled it as if it were yesterday. With characteristic defiance, Oakman thought, “As rotten as I was in high school . . . I don’t think so. And who is this guy, anyway? This guy doesn’t know me; he can’t possibly know what he’s talking about.”
But before she could respond to the lawyer, he added, “Just think about it, please. You don’t have to do anything about it today or tomorrow; just think about it.”
Oakman grinned. “I thought about it. And then I thought, OK, I’ll apply to college, but it will just be to see if I get in. That was my only goal, to see if I would get in, not to go. I didn’t want to go; I hadn’t really liked school. Since I had gone to a Catholic girls high school in Philadelphia, I thought I would apply to a Catholic university; I picked LaSalle. My mother said, `Girl, you have lost what’s left of your mind. It’s been almost 11 years since you were in high school. You were almost last in your class then.’ “
When the acceptance letter arrived from LaSalle, no one was more surprised than Oakman.
“I’d been fired years before from the only job I ever had. At that point, an older woman I knew told me I’d better go on welfare, so I would be sure my children had medical coverage. I was scared and naive; no one else showed me other options.
“By the time I heard from LaSalle, I’d been on public assistance from 1976 to 1982, which gave me an income of less than $4,500 a year. I had four sons at the time, and the five of us were living in an apartment owned by a slumlord. This place had no heat, no hot water. There was raw sewage coming up out of the toilet into the bathtub and holes in the floor. When the bus went by on 15th Street, the windows would rattle. I was depressed. My self-esteem had dropped and my weight had increased.
“That’s when I had the conversation with this lawyer I knew, the one who asked me to just consider the possibility of going back to school. He must have seen something inside me I wasn’t aware of at the time. His challenge became my impetus to change.
“Being accepted to college was just amazing. That was my first thought: This is amazing! It boosted my self-esteem so much.”
Enough so that Oakman felt confident declining LaSalle and applying to Philadelphia Community College.
“I had first applied to LaSalle because all my education up to that point had been in the Catholic school system. But by the time I started considering the reality of LaSalle, I had to face the fact that I’d become disillusioned with the Catholic Church. So I chose community college. Mind you, I had no idea how I was going to pay for this.
“I went to the college and told them I wanted to go to school in the fall of 1983. I said, `I don’t know what to do or how to do it. I need you to tell me.’
“The admissions counselor gave me all sorts of applications, including grant applications, and he told me to fill them out. Between federal grants and a student loan, it took care of my tuition and books, plus it gave me enough for child care.”
While it was still a struggle financially, Oakman said, “we weren’t starving. I would spend my money on my kids. It was hard to get things for me, but as long as my kids were OK, I was OK.”
When it came to academics, Oakman, who had ranked 363rd out of 365 in her high school class, excelled in college.
“I actually made the dean’s list in my second semester. I loved college! I was like a sponge, and everything they taught me, I was soaking up. It was exhilarating to see I could actually do college-level work. It was so wonderful to discover that I was a much better student at 25 than I was at 16 or 17.
“I had believed I was just like the welfare stereotype–lazy, shiftless and stupid–and I began to see that just wasn’t true. I had never understood the options that existed for me. The welfare system just isn’t designed to help people become self-sufficient. Case workers were definitely not dream-makers. They were not interested in assessing my skills or interests or my potential; all they cared about was getting food stamps and rent. I needed more, something that would carry me through my life. I needed a career.”
In Oakman’s first year, she did begin to feel overwhelmed and scared.
“Then one of my professors, a man who became my mentor, told me, `Hannah, forget where you came from. Just focus on where you’re going.’ Those words motivated me to keep going; those words became my walking shoes.
“I tried to get involved in the school as much as I could. I was part of the honor society and vice president of the criminal justice club.”
These activities were like therapy for Oakman when her mother was diagnosed with cancer and in failing health.
“I wanted to stay as busy as I possibly could. By then, my mom realized I had finally gotten to where I needed to be, and in January of my last year at Community, she died. That was the first semester I got anything below a B. After she passed, I made all the funeral arrangements and everything. Because I was the first one in my family who went to college, everyone turned to me. I was learning to be self-sufficient; I was learning I could do anything.”
A week before she graduated with a degree in criminal justice, Oakman received the school’s In Spite of the Odds Award, which included a $1,000 scholarship for paralegal training at Widener University.
“I also graduated from there with honors. I was moving so fast. From there, I got a job as a deputy clerk with the 3rd Circuit Court of Appeals. I was making $14,000, and even with all my children, that was a lot of money. I felt like I had made it. Ironically, I only stayed at the job six months because I decided it wasn’t challenging enough for me.”
A month later, Oakman had a job as a paralegal working with a Philadelphia Bar Association program to help get legal services to the poor.
“This was the beginning of my feeling totally empowered. I wrote a booklet for single mothers about my experiences of getting off welfare titled, `How to Become Self-sufficient.’
“I also started an organization to work with single mothers called Personal Empowerment Now. I developed the program in 1988 to help women get the mentoring people gave me. It’s been pretty successful. Women have gone to college or remained in college because they had support. A lot of these women don’t recognize the skills they already have.”
Oakman said this reaching out to others was part of her growing faith.
“In 1988, after years of struggle with the Catholic Church, I got involved with the Baptist Church and really began to grow spiritually. Soon, I began to realize I was supposed to be doing things for God, not just for myself. All these years, I had this hole inside. I kept trying to fill it with husbands or more children. I finally began to realize only God could fill that hole. I learned how to be humble; I learned how to submit my will.
“Now, when things go crazy, I don’t immediately think, How is this going to affect me? I just pray, `God, what is it you want me to learn? How can you use me?’ “
Oakman’s talents as a speaker and community organizer have not gone unnoticed. She received a Horn of Plenty grant from Moms Online, an Internet support community.
“And last February,” Oakman said, “I went to the White House to speak with the president and vice president on my experiences doing community services. I was asked to speak at a conference on empowerment zones. I prayed the words would flow. I knew God had chosen me for this because I’d had my trial by fire. I wanted to do a good job. I wanted to carry a message of compassion, hope and hard work. Going from welfare to the White House made my spirit say, `Amen!’ “
Oakman still works to get out her message both through her organization, which she funds herself, and back at the community college, where this single mother of seven now works in the career planning center.
“What I want people to know is that a viable college education coupled with no-nonsense basic training will not only remove people from welfare but will help them sustain their new lives, so they don’t return to the welfare rolls. The current quick and dirty programs that push people into any job no matter what education or skills they lack will only be detrimental to our neighborhoods and cities later. This is about economic empowerment for a lifetime, not temporary fixes.”
