Joann Woodhull grew up in Boulder City, but she knew it as hell. Woodhull began running away at age 13 to escape an alcoholic household and abusive stepfather. By 14, she was drinking and getting high (speed was her favorite drug). The first of five marriages came at 15. The next 25 years were spent in a drug-addled delirium—prostitution and alcoholism, drug addiction and dope peddling, dodging police and serving time (for selling to an undercover cop, 10 times). While incarcerated, she met Kyle, a counselor at "the Center" at UNLV. He helped her with sobriety, getting into college and, after she was paroled for good behavior in 2001, finding an apartment. Clean for five years and nine credits away from an associates' degree in general studies, Woodhull, 42, plans to transfer to the University of Wisconsin to major in addiction studies, on the way to becoming a substance-abuse counselor for wayward Native-Americans teens, "to show them that if I can make it," she says, "anyone can."
You've probably never heard of the Center for Academic Enrichment and Outreach. No wonder. It's never marketed itself until now—25 years after its creation. Not that university officials tried back then—they didn't even have a temperature on the program.
All's it done since is become one of the university's most successful programs—and one of the best in the nation targeted at helping low-income students.
And technically, it's not even on campus.
Headquarters are around the block, on Tamarus—east of the Liberace Museum, south of a violent neighborhood, north of a two-story, black-windowed office complex and cloistered in a cul-de-sac of buildings with dirt-brown facades. Contagious energy emanates from the busybodies inside—many are youngish; current and former UNLV students—who run dozens of programs that service 18,000 high-schoolers and collegians, making it the largest federally funded education support program in the nation. Without its tutorial, counseling and support offerings, our bottom-dwelling, underfinanced education system might be worse than it is. Every offering is free. Recently, it's become the envy of universities nationwide, some 350 academicians from around the country coming here to study, learn and mimic.
On this day, the center's young-looking, bespectacled executive director, Tracy Cotton, is bouncing from meeting to meeting. He has a doctoral degree, slim build, brainy countenance and small, Marley-ish locks. And talk of "intrusive services," "academic interventions" and "holistic educational approaches" pepper his speech. Cotton can rattle off data with statistician's aplomb and talk of its emotional impact on students. (Not only he is the head guy, he's an alum, too).
"The program's a tribute to the work we do," he says. "Ninety-nine percent of center users graduate from high school; 94 percent go to college immediately after high school; 75 percent graduate college within five years. By comparison, 39 percent of UNLV students graduate within six years."
UNLV President Carol Harter gushed about the center in Inside UNLV, a faculty publication: "The center's common-sense approach involves offering students in-class instruction, workshops and tutoring, all with the goal of keeping them on track in their academic pursuits."
Incarnated in 1979 by then-director William Sullivan as the Department for Academic Enrichment, the program worked to ease low-income students into college life. Back then, there were no federal funds and no grand plans, thus no hint about its future. University officials didn't even know how to promote it. It was one step above being a black sheep. Today, the center offers a gaggle of services, almost mind-numbing in number. Standardized test preparation. Help with graduate school admission. Leadership development. Career exploration. Along with programs that boost graduation rates, give prepsters college credit and prepare middle-schoolers for high school.
For all its triumphs, the center has remained largely anonymous, though the PR push, which features ads in local media, hopes to change that. The story Cotton hopes to tell is of a program that's been vitally integral to local education and helped adults get high school diplomas, and those like Woodhull get their lives on track; there are 3,500 in adult services programming.
"We focus on academic growth and social growth—interventions, field trips, etiquette classes, involving families, addressing home-life issues," Cotton says. "If a parent can't feed a kid, how can you expect them to do well in school? We deal with those types of things."
The center is many things to different people. For UNLV sophomore Shanthi Sannar, the priority registration, where she meets with advisors who plan her schedule and input it online, was a huge carrot. The 18-year-old is an amputee who lost her arms in a childhood train accident in Calcutta, India. "Everyone has worked to make it easy on me," she says, noting that a counselor also helped her get a job.
Mark Darnell appreciates all the attentive ears, the people who've guided him toward stability, the counselors who game-planned his future. Darnell moved here to stay with his uncle after learning, on his 18th birthday, that his mom was leaving Columbus, Ohio. Without him. "She told me I was able to care for myself."
His uncle suggested he attend UNLV, but Darnell hadn't a clue about how to register and pick classes, much less an idea about selecting a major. His main career caveat: Whatever he did, it had to make him rich. He figured on career in graphic technology. Wrong move.
"My counselor told me there was no demand for it," says Darnell, who's now majoring in the high-demand field of computer information technology. "Everyone needs someone who can fix computers."
Another center user, Brandi Powell, is making waves nationally as an MTV Choose or Lose voting correspondent. Before that, she interned with a local news station, going out with reporters and learning to investigate, write and construct stories. This summer, she's interning with Dateline NBC. Not bad for someone who discovered the center almost by accident.
"Everyone there has been so supportive and helpful, not only with academic support but emotional support," she says. "They are very good at checking up with us."
It's these stories and more—the center has run a series of ads in local papers touting some of its more notable alumni, including Rep. Shelley Berkley and County Commissioner Yvonne Atkinson Gates—that form the basis of the PR plug. The goal, Cotton says, is to let philanthropists know the center is a worthwhile organization to donate to. The current budget is $13 million, much of which is procured through winning competitive grants.
Sydni Long is in Rancho High's library, going over the intricacies of the center's Early Studies program, which allows high schoolers to get college credit. Over two hours, she'll talk to nearly 30 students (of 159 under her watch), many of whom were recruited by the Center when they were in junior high. Ariece Perkins is among them. Prior to joining the center, the Rancho High sophomore had a two-track mind—video games and rap videos. What he was going to do on the weekend concerned him more than schoolwork. And homework? Yeah, right. Easy as it sounds, he says, the 15-year-old improved his grades by taking sensible advice from tutors—turn off the television and video games, avoid the radio and stay away from food.
Says Perkins: "They gave me a reason to really care about doing well in school."