'I FEEL LIKE A BUTTERFLY DRAWN FROM A COCOON'

Recovering Addicts Flourish In Nontraditional Humanities Program

With her voice quavering, Mardi Sines described what her first Stanford
course, taught by instructors Scotty McLennan and Elisabeth Hansot during
Winter Quarter, meant to her.

"I am part of the human race," she said, the realization seeming to come as
a complete surprise. "I have the capabilities of everyone else, if I put my
mind to it. This class really made it come true for me."

Many new Stanford students have their share of insecurities. But Sines -- a
45-year-old recovering alcoholic and drug addict who had a choice of either
taking this class or finishing out a yearlong sentence at San Mateo County
Jail -- isn't a typical student.

For the past quarter, she has joined 15 other women in a Continuing Studies
course on the humanities at Hope House, a residential drug and alcohol
rehabilitation center in Redwood City. Sponsored by the Ethics in Society
Program, Stanford Continuing Studies and the John W. Gardner Center for
Youth and Their Communities, the course's immediate aim is simple: to teach
these nontraditional students about great philosophers such as Plato and
Sophocles. But for many participants, both students and instructors, the
results have been more profound.

For Sines, who never graduated from high school because she was "too busy
getting loaded," the class gave her a newfound sense of self-esteem and
dignity.

"It opened an avenue in my life that I never had before," she said. "I was
always very defensive -- 'You better listen to my opinion.' This really
allowed me to be able to listen to somebody else, and maybe incorporate
that into my own philosophies."

Working For The Miracle

On a shelf in the small living room where the women gather for class each
week sits a small picture frame. Within it are words of encouragement:
"Don't quit before the miracle."

The struggle not to quit is a dominant theme at Hope House, where women
with drug problems in San Mateo County often are sent after finding
themselves in trouble with the law. The nonprofit organization was started
in 1990 in an effort to help decrease the number of women returning to jail
because of drug problems. Up to 16 women at a time -- some with infants in
tow -- stay for a six-month period.

"We really try to teach them abstinence, but we look at the total woman,"
explained Hope House Director Karen Francone. "We teach the women
responsibility, boundaries."

Starting at 6 a.m., each day is filled with chores, 12-step meetings and
mandatory classes such as infant massage, parenting education, anger
management and HIV/AIDS awareness. Last spring, at the urging of philosophy
Associate Professor Debra Satz and Rob Reich, assistant professor of
political science, Stanford offered to add its Hope House Scholars course
to the load.

"This is pretty unique," Francone said, explaining that even though the
course is conducted on a college level, some women have only an eighth
grade education. The women meet with the instructors, who rotate every
quarter, once a week and with student tutors on one other day. It is the
only course at Hope House for which they are given additional time for
homework.

"Stanford has really challenged them to look inside and see the big
picture," Francone said. "Recovery is a lot about choices. Staying clean
and sober can be gone in a second if you don't make the right choice. I
kind of look at what they learn in this class as helping them make overall
choices."

The fact that the coursework isn't softened -- students receive 2 units of
credit from Stanford Continuing Studies that can be used toward a degree at
Canada College -- also benefits the participants, Francone said.

"They never thought they could take a Stanford class for credit," she
explained. "When they see they can do something they didn't think they
could do before, it gives them kind of concrete evidence that they can do
other things, like stay clean and sober."

Even though for most participants taking the Stanford course is obligatory,
many seem enthusiastic about it. Several students even cite the class with
helping motivate them to pursue goals beyond staying sober.

"I tell pretty much everybody that I meet about this class," said Kathirene
Soriano, a 30-year-old single mother of four and recovering crack addict.
"This past weekend what made me feel good was writing my final paper. It
was the highlight of my week."

Having suffered through "every type of abuse" as a child and an adult,
Soriano was involved with gangs and drugs from a young age. She had been to
prison four times and has been trying to get sober since 1995. Hope House
was her 10th program, and at one point she contemplated dropping out. But
thinking about what she had accomplished during her stay and how much she
enjoyed the class helped her to stick with the program, she said. Last
month she celebrated one year of sobriety. Although she completed the Hope
House program before the course ended, Soriano voluntarily returned every
week to participate in the discussions.

In addition to college credit, each student is awarded a voucher to take
another Continuing Studies course -- this time on campus. Soriano said she
will use hers, but she also has bigger plans. Within the next year, she
hopes to enroll at the College of San Mateo to work toward a certificate in
Alcohol and Other Drug Studies. With that certification, she can become a
drug counselor and help "give back," she said.

"This class gave me an opportunity to find out how college was," she said.
"It gave me a whole lot inside. Those are opportunities that I would never
have gotten."

An Impractical Idea

Stanford has taught the Hope House Scholars course for three quarters now,
but it wasn't the first institution to sponsor such an endeavor. The idea
was hatched in New York City in 1995 by novelist and journalist Earl
Shorris. Enlisting the help of Bard College, a liberal arts college in
upstate New York, he began the Clemente Course in the Humanities. Described
as an "experiment in education," his theory was that self-reflection
through studying the humanities could help the long-term poor step out of
poverty.

It started with 30 students recruited from settlement houses, drug
rehabilitation centers and neighborhood centers. Several were homeless or
had been to prison. One student died from AIDS before the first course was
completed.

"Most people who heard about the experiment thought it was foolish,"
Shorris wrote in an article for the online humanities magazine PORT. "They
considered it impractical. The rule for the poor, as for most of the rest
of America, was to be educated in practical things."

But giving people training without a foundation in the humanities is like
building a house of cards, he believes; without the ability to think
reflectively, people will remain in poverty.

Of the first class, 17 students finished and 14 earned college credit. Of
those students, Shorris reported several years later, nine went on to
enroll in four-year colleges and one entered nursing school.

"Education was to teach the students in the Clemente Course to use their
rational powers to think, to enjoy beauty," Shorris wrote. "The purpose of
the humanities for them, as for anyone else, was to bring out their innate
humanity."

More than a dozen Clemente Courses have spread to Washington, Florida and
Alaska, as have spinoffs such as the Hope House Scholars.

Teaching the teacher

On a Thursday morning in February, instructors Scotty McLennan and
Elisabeth Hansot read aloud an excerpt of Sophocles' Antigone. In a gender
reversal, McLennan, dean for religious life, read the part of Antigone,
while Hansot, senior lecturer emerita in political science, read the part
of Creon.

When they were finished, the transfixed class offered a spontaneous round
of applause. After the class, both instructors smiled as they recalled the
moment. In the course of teaching the class, both say they have noticed an
"eagerness to learn" and "excitement about the learning process" that
transcends that of the average undergraduate classroom.

"I think these students are extraordinarily generous," Hansot said. "There
is a welcome and an energy there that is energizing." The fact that several
students, like Soriano, have returned to the class voluntarily even though
their stay at Hope House has ended, only adds to that claim, Hansot added.
"That's like having your students say, 'Hey, can we have an extra session?'"

In addition to Hansot, McLennan, Reich and Satz, others who have taught the
class have been Krista Lawlor, assistant professor of philosophy, and
Suzanne Greenberg, a lecturer in the Program in Structured Liberal
Education. The course has been a learning experience for the instructors as
well as the students, Hansot and McLennan agreed.

"The perspectives are so different than what you'd get in a normal Stanford
classroom," McLennan said. "It really enlarges your understanding of the
text and its relevance to real life."

For example, when the class studied the classic ethics question, "Should
one person be sacrificed for the good of the many?" the students
immediately identified with the one who would be sacrificed.

"There are two texts used in the class -- the text we bring and the texts
of their lives," Hansot said. "The intersection of the two is what makes
this class so unique."

Another benefit is the satisfaction gained from volunteering outside the
confines of campus. "It's important to have Stanford go out into the
community and not wait for the community to come in," Hansot said.

"That's what a university should be," McLennan agreed.

After three successful quarters, the program has a fairly long list of
instructors signed up to volunteer with the course. Some, like Hansot, plan
to repeat their involvement. But as the program continues to be molded, it
will need other help as well, she stressed.

At the graduation banquet last month, both she and McLennan offered to
personally mentor any student who decides to take more courses. "I feel
strongly that they need that support," Hansot said, explaining that she is
pushing for the program to formally incorporate mentoring for students who
continue their education. "The responsible thing to do is to make funding
available so that student tutors can follow up with the Hope House
students, but I worry that funding may not be available."

Before the program can expand, however, it first must grapple with more
basic needs. Right now it has no budget and no secure funding set for next
year, said program director Nicole Sanchez. "We are rather worried about
its existence," she admitted.

Beyond a dream

Sines, whose voice shakes when she describes her pride at passing a
Stanford course, is one of those women who wants to continue her education
past Hope House. That's saying a lot, considering what her outlook was
before taking the class.

Growing up in what she describes as an abusive family with an addict
mother, she became one herself at a very young age as a way to escape. "I
just stayed medicated my whole life," she explained. Then, last year, she
was sent to San Mateo County Jail for possession of heroin; there she
eventually was given the option of finishing her sentence at Hope House.

"I had no idea what it was going to be like," she said of learning she
would be enrolled in the Stanford course. "But I didn't think anyone [at
Hope House] was capable of doing that."

Since then, Sines' viewpoint has changed. She hopes Hansot will be her
mentor as she explores education outside of Hope House.

"It gave me a whole new outlook on the capability of humankind and the
inner struggle of human beings," she said. "[It showed me] how much I
limited my perceptions. It was exhilarating and exciting. I can see a
future now.

"It's beyond a dream come true. I feel like a butterfly drawn from a cocoon."

Those who wish to donate to or volunteer with the Hope House Scholars
program should contact Nicole Sanchez at (650) 723-0855.