JBER Public Affairs
5/15/2014 - JOINT BASE ELMENDORF-RICHARDSON, Alaska -- They look like Soldiers, running to and fro, marching in formations, shouting cadences. They eat like Soldiers, in a chow hall, three times per day. They live on a military installation, JBER, in Camp Carroll, on the Richardson side. They live in a basic-training type environment; high-stress, and high-focus.
It's the Alaska Military Youth Academy, part of the National Guard Youth Challenge program. AMYA is for at-risk teens who have dropped out of school.
"If you talk to them, they may let you know they've left school because they became disinterested, dissatisfied; there were other things going on in their lives that made it difficult for them to balance it," said Dr. James Jones, deputy director of AMYA.
"For instance, you get a kid who comes because he's dealing with family dynamics that are seemingly insurmountable, and those family dynamics keep them from focusing on their school work."
The reasons the kids dropped out are legion, but the way they end up here is singular - they all volunteered.
No one can force them to attend the academy, and no one can force them to stay.
The term "troubled teens" or "at-risk" is frequently associated with juvenile delinquency, but that's not the case with these students.
In fact, it is a prerequisite they have no current troubles with the law, and they are not convicted felons.
They cannot be court-ordered to attend the academy; they come for the discipline to finish the very education they walked away from.
The success rate for academy students finishing school with a diploma, GED or school credit recovery is 85 to 92 percent.
After they graduate, approximately 38 percent enlist in the military, 12 to 14 percent go to college. Jones said less than one-half of one percent get into trouble with the law within five to 10 years after graduating.
Success isn't cheap; failure is worse Between federal and state money, the spending per AMYA student is $31,000. This is roughly twice the funding (federal and state) for Alaska public school students.
The requirement is around $17,000 total, with the state contributing only $4,300; Alaska invests approximately $14,000 more per student than required by the Challenge program in order to allow for state-specific requirements.
On the face of it, the program is comparatively expensive.
However, when the poverty rate and societal costs associated with a dropout are taken into account, along with the costs of possible incarceration, the price is much lower over the long run.
By comparison, incarceration can cost between $59,000 and $79,000 per person per year in Alaska.
According to a study by Northeastern University, incarceration rates among dropouts are three times higher than high school graduates, and 63 times higher than college graduates - not 63 percent, but 6,300 percent.
According to the study, a dropout will cost taxpayers $292,000 over their lifetime through lost tax revenue, higher cash in-kind transfer costs and incarceration. This makes the Academy a comparative bargain.
Rough life Jones said 15 to 25 percent of the kids come from a broken home; still others are dealing with peer pressure and the related fallout.
But there is a common theme with the current generation of students that also plays a role.
"There's an entitlement mentality - they want something but don't necessarily want to work for it," Jones said, "So that's where the change takes place in this environment, because we let them know that everything they receive here, they have to earn."
That includes beds.
"They call it 'Hell Week,' but it's two weeks long," said Austin McIlrath, an AMYA graduate from Eagle River. "You're sleeping in a bed roll on the ground with a sleeping bag, waking up at about six in the morning doing a bunch of [physical training] for two weeks straight.
"After that, you go from a 'candidate' to a 'cadet.' When you get that cadet status is when you get the privilege of sleeping on a bed, sitting down to eat, standing at parade rest instead of attention - you get more relaxed."
They also run everywhere, side-step in the chow line, and they have to ask for permission to do anything.
"We let them know, we're not trying to make them robotic," Jones said. "What we're trying to help them understand is these are just parts of the process to get them into the structure and discipline of regimentation so that now - without the distractions of social media - iPads and iPods, they now have an opportunity to be a teenager and do some things that will advance their life."
"I didn't like it at all," said Brandon Pete, cadet platoon sergeant from Glenallen.
Pete dropped out of high school when he was 16.
Like so many of his peers, he had trouble with authority and was dealing with anger problems.
"I dropped out of school because I was an outcast, I was always put down, I was being told I wasn't going to be anything - teachers were telling me that, so there was a point where I gave up," Pete said.
He said his goal now is to return to high school and earn his diploma, perhaps even join the Army.
"Since I've been here, I've felt that I have a purpose, I'm worth something more than what everyone else is telling me,"
Pete said. "Before I [arrived at AMYA], people we telling me I wouldn't make it
past the first two weeks. Me being here 31 days now, I've started to realize I'm not what people say I am."
It doesn't happen in a vacuum The majority of applicants come because of word of mouth, or seeing the results in other kids.
Austin McIlrath had fallen behind in school credits. They tried home schooling, but it didn't work as planned. He had to do something.
"He came to me and wanted to go," said Lisa Hodge, Austin's mom. "When his brother graduated from the program in 2006, [Austin] wanted to go. He's always been military-minded. He couldn't go until he was a certain age, and when he was that age, he went."
Mentors make all the difference "Before I came here, I was trying to find a mentor," said Pete. "No one would do it. I went to my uncles, no one would do it. I went to people I thought would, like teachers who said they would help me out, but they didn't do it."
Then a family friend came into his life and took the role. This friend fostered some of Brandon's siblings and has been faithful to his word.
"It means a lot, personally," said Pete. "I've never had a father figure in my life."
The instructors also play a major role in his development and outlook.
"It makes me feel like someone cares about me," said Pete. "In my life I haven't really had people there, except mom, but she only talked to me when she wanted to, and she wasn't always there to talk to me.
So, having team leaders [similar to drill instructors] invest their time in me helping me get to where I need to go, it feels really good, keeps me motivated to carry on."
Camaraderie builds a sense of kinship and belonging; it's why the military seeks to develop it in units. The bonds from this kind of instruction can last for years.
Leonard Bundridge has been an instructor for 20 years at the academy, and spent a combined 23 years in both active-duty Army and Air National Guard.
"One time I was in Afghanistan, and ran into a former cadet," said Bundridge. "It was a pretty proud moment, because the young man was being successful and doing what he had to do."
He said he's taught more than 5,000 students over his career, and can't go anywhere without running into a former student.
"Last night I saw a cadet from 1996, hadn't seen him since '96. We talked for 15 minutes. He's in his 30s and the last time I saw him he was 16," said Bundridge.
Volunteers have a tremendous effect "I think they have a positive effect due to the fact the kids get a chance to talk to someone who is not a staff member and can speak freely. I think the mentors bridge that gap between the rigid life and when they eventually cross over to post-graduation life.
"Sometimes, we [staff and volunteers] may be some of the first positive role models these young men and women see. Some of them come from abusive backgrounds, or there may be drug use and things like that. For them to see that we're not trying to take advantage of them in any way, we don't want anything from them and we want them to succeed, I think that makes a huge difference," Bundridge said.
Volunteer mentors are people from the community, both civilian and military, who come in regularly to sit down with the students and help them through some tough questions and issues, as well as letting them vent.
As Brandon Pete pointed out, the students may have been looking for a father or mother figure for a long time, and a mentor might be exactly what they need.
Success stories abound "I was just talking about one the other day, his name is John Briody," Jones said. "John has been active-duty in the Navy since about 1997. He came here because of some traumatic events in his life. He graduated from here when he was 17. His dad was Air Force, and he wanted to go Air Force, but they wouldn't accept him, so he went into the Navy. And this year John is likely to be one of the youngest [senior chief petty officers] in the Navy. He's married, has two children and is stationed in Italy."
There are many other success stories the staff and relatives talked about, when lives were put back on track because someone cared enough to work with them.
AMYA demonstrates a large social investment into kids who would statistically have a bleak future without the intervention.
It's largely a cooperation between state and federal agencies, but the effort also benefits greatly from community involvement.
So the next time there's a red school bus in the area with some young people in uniforms, or they're cleaning up around the building, standing in formation or simply walking by, a simple pat on the back or a smile could be another step in the advancement of these young people's lives.
To become a mentor, contact the AMYA Recruiting, Placement and Mentoring section at 384-6120 for more information.
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