Sometimes,
late in the afternoon, when hours of washing dishes or stuffing
envelopes seem to drag on forever, Nichole Fisher imagines what life
would be like if she had a more fulfilling job in the community.
Fisher,
who has spent much of the past decade in workplaces for people with
disabilities, pictures herself as a nursing assistant or preschool
teacher, and saving enough money to go on a vacation — perhaps to Disney
World — with her two teenage children.
“I’m ready to make a fresh start,” said Fisher, a resident of West St. Paul who has a mental disability.
Like
dozens of her co-workers, Fisher may finally get that opportunity. In
recent weeks, state and county workforce officials have quietly
introduced an ambitious new project — modeled after a highly successful
program in Ohio — to give people with disabilities an alternative to
working in “sheltered workshops,” cloistered workplaces that pay as
little as $2 an hour for mundane jobs such as packing boxes, shredding
paper and collecting trash.
The
program tests the assumption that people with developmental disabilities
prefer the safety and routine of segregated workshops to better-paying
jobs in the competitive workplace. If broadened statewide, the program
could mark a fundamental shift in Minnesota, giving those who yearn for
integrated employment far more control over their lives and career
choices.
The
voluntary initiative, known as “Way to Work,” is driven by a simple
concept: That people with disabilities are more likely to find jobs in
the general workforce if trained counselors talk to them openly and
regularly about their ambitions.
In just
six weeks, one in three people who labor at an Eagan workshop operated
by ProAct Inc., one of the state’s largest workshop operators, have
indicated they want jobs in the regular workforce for competitive pay.
They are now working with state and county social workers to make that
dream a reality.
“This is
remarkable,” said Megan Zeilinger, an employment planner at Dakota
County. “It shows that there are probably hundreds of people at
workshops across this state who want jobs in the community, but no one
has ever bothered to talk to them.”
The
project is part of a broader effort by the state to break down barriers
to integration for people with disabilities. Once considered a leader in
the push for disability rights, Minnesota now has one of the lowest
rates of integrated employment in the nation for people with
developmental disabilities. An estimated 12,000 Minnesotans with
disabilities spend their days in heavily-subsidized and largely
segregated workshops, which take advantage of a loophole in federal law
that allows them to pay piecework wages that often amount to just
pennies an hour.
A Star
Tribune investigation last fall found that people in these workshops
often long for mainstream jobs and competitive pay, but lack the
transportation and other support services that would make that possible.
That could
soon change. The U.S. Justice Department has sued two states, Oregon
and Rhode Island, for their reliance on segregated workshops. In
addition, federal regulators have warned that they may withhold funding
from states that fail to move away from shelter-based employment.
‘We can do this here’
Recognizing
this shift, Minnesota officials have been exploring ways to reduce the
state’s reliance on workshops, while preserving individual choice and
acknowledging that many people in workshops prefer segregated work to
mainstream jobs.
“We knew
change was coming and that we needed to act quickly,” said Kim Peck of
the state Department of Employment and Economic Development (DEED).
In
October, the search for alternatives brought state and county officials
to the Buckeye State, home to one of the nation’s most far-reaching
initiatives to desegregate employment for people with disabilities.
Three
years ago, Gov. John Kasich ordered that community employment be the
“preferred outcome” for all working-age Ohioans with disabilities. Since
then, the state has sent two dozen job counselors into sheltered
workshops all over the state to engage individual workers in
conversations about the transition to competitive work. The state has
also redirected millions of Medicaid dollars toward job coaching,
transportation, and other work supports.
So far,
650 Ohioans with disabilities have found jobs in the regular workforce,
while another 2,200 have crafted individual plans for moving into
mainstream work. Ohio now boasts one of the highest rates of integrated
employment, with 24 percent of adults who receive state services working
in the community. By comparison, Minnesota’s rate of integrated
employment has hovered around 13 percent, among the nation’s lowest.
At a
racetrack and casino on the edge of Columbus, the Minnesota officials
met with several workers with disabilities who had moved from segregated
facilities to regular jobs as cooks and servers, including one employee
who bought a home and got engaged.
“We came
back from [Ohio] very, very excited and said, `We can do this here,’ ”
said Abbie Wells-Herzog, a vocational rehab specialist with DEED.
Minnesota
officials decided to start modestly, working with Dakota County and
embedding two full-time vocational counselors at ProAct’s expansive
facility in Eagan. As of Friday, about 50 of the 150 people who work in
ProAct’s workshop in Eagan and mobile work crews have expressed interest
in finding work outside the facility.
“Our hope is this program can be done on a large scale,” said Steve Ditschler, ProAct’s president and chief executive.
Now comes
the hard part: Finding these workers actual jobs and lining up services
so they can succeed. That requires creative thinking and employers
willing to focus on workers’ “strengths, abilities and interests, and
not just their deficits,” Wells-Herzog said.
Fisher is
hopeful. In her nearly 10 years at ProAct, she has performed just about
every job imaginable, from packaging fishing lures to operating a
shrink-wrap machine. Most days, she busses tables and washes dishes at a
local Panera Bread restaurant as part of a mobile work crew. On the
long bus ride home, she scans the scenery outside her window for “help
wanted” signs.
“I can do
it all,” Fisher said, grinning widely as she waited for her bus. “It’s a
challenge, really, to take what comes your way, and I’m always up for
new challenges.”
Twitter: @chrisserres
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