Big Bets and the Honor Roll
What we can learn from those we’re trying to help.
Several years ago, one of my clients asked me to join a board supporting Epworth Children’s Home. I didn’t have time. And I’m bad at saying no. The ask was from a client. You can see where this is headed. Me, scrambling to attend monthly board meetings, running five minutes late if I was lucky.
I knew nothing about children’s homes.
My first meeting began with a tour of the wooded 32-acre campus. There are 25 buildings in all: girls’ and boys’ cottages for different age groups, a dining hall, athletic facilities and a church that looks right out of a Christmas movie set in New England. It was less than a mile from my house. I’d driven past the entrance hundreds of times, but I never thought a thing about it.
Epworth’s low profile is by design, as being obscure is a security measure of sorts. The children there are victims of abuse and neglect, and some residents have been removed from their homes by the Department of Social Services. As a result, they need privacy, and in some cases, protection.
The director of development attended every board meeting, and the president often dropped by. They thanked us for our service and shared stories. One I’ll never forget is about three brothers. The oldest was around 11. A neighbor called the police explaining that she had seen the boys coming and going, but not their mother. Authorities learned that the mom had moved out of town with her boyfriend, leaving behind the 11-year-old to care for himself and both of his younger siblings.
A triage of sorts begins when new residents arrive. They‘re taken shopping for clothes and toiletries, for some a first-time experience. Medical and dental care are provided as well as an assessment of educational achievement. New residents frequently aren’t performing academically at their grade-level, and tutors are assigned. There are also counselors and specialists that help children work through the trauma of abuse.
There’s a certain amount of guilt that comes with facing the need for this type of intervention. And that guilt is compounded by an understanding of how much you’ve taken for granted. And it grows again when you realize that you’ll never be able to comprehend what these children have endured. Then it gets worse. There was a persistent thought I couldn’t stop from repeating.
No one can ever recover from this.
That demoralizing refrain was the result of my day job, and it was based on research. Just prior to joining the board, I completed a branding assignment for a national chain of child development centers (CDCs). The project included both secret shoppers and individual interviews with CDC directors. My first key takeaway was that a CDC director’s base salary should dwarf that of any Fortune 500 CEO.
The directors possessed endless depths of compassion and patience, along with a certainty that they were making a profound difference in children’s lives. Each director I interviewed stressed the importance of early education, explaining that problem solving, communication and interpersonal skills are formed early. I was told that if these critical skills weren’t fully developed by age five, remediation was impossible.
I don’t doubt this is true. It’s just not always true.
I served on the Friends of Epworth board for six years, and during that time my perspective expanded. The best part was seeing that Epworth does everything possible to make being there a blessing. The children have a beach trip every summer, a first for many. They attend both college and professional sporting events complete with courtside seats, locker room tours and visits with the athletes. And Christmas at Epworth is a made-for-TV moment.
Other moments are more mundane, but warm in the way that routines comfort us. The high school girls watched Grey’s Anatomy together every Thursday night. The kids love when the staff opens the gym after hours for pick-up basketball games and weightlifting. The campus has a girls’ side and a boys’ side, but there’s one small playground in between where girls and boys can visit one another.
There is happiness, and there are smiles despite pasts I can’t fathom. There’s also achievement. For 11 years, 100 percent of high school seniors living at Epworth have graduated or earned their GED, and most have gone on to attend college.
Epworth taught me that there are no lost causes.
There’s been no more valuable lesson for someone devoted to the business of marketing for behavioral change. The issues you and I face are vulnerable to negative assumptions. And that has informed how we communicate, both to the people we’re trying to serve and to the people whose support we need to do the work. I want to change that. And I’m not alone.
Last month, Canadian nonprofit Foundations for Social Change released a peer-reviewed study endorsed by Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences (PNAS). In 2018, the study identified 50 people in Vancouver without severe mental health or substance abuse issues who had been homeless for less than two years. The participants were given a lump sum of $7,500 to spend however they wanted. Researchers followed recipients for a year to see how they spent the money and the impact it had on their lives. Participants’ outcomes were compared with a control group of 65 homeless people who received no money. Both groups received access to workshops and life skills coaching.
Meanwhile, the study queried 1,100 people on how a group of homeless people would spend an unconditional $7,500 compared to a group of housed people. Respondents predicted that homeless recipients would spend 81 percent more on “temptation goods” such as alcohol, drugs and tobacco, than their housed counterparts. Just like my inner voice, the respondents were wrong.
Homeless recipients didn’t spend more on drugs and alcohol. They spent money on clothes, food and rent, and moved into stable housing. Beyond confirming the fallacy of many stereotypes about homeless people, we can also learn from some of the behavioral science at work in this experiment.
Making a $350,000 bet.
Foundations for Social Change didn’t skimp on the intervention. Giving $7,500 to 50 people is a big risk. But the amount is key. Homeless and other under resourced individuals live with a scarcity mindset, putting them in perpetual survival mode.
Survival mode is no place for Daniel Kahneman’s System 2 thinking. System 2 uses the rational problem-solving areas of our brains. In replacing scarcity with a large lump sum, the intervention allowed recipients to think more deliberately, rationally and long term.
Epworth views its support of young residents as more of an investment than a gamble. That’s a good thing because their work is even more resource intensive. And Epworth kids are living proof that you can only expect a return on investment if you’ve gone all-in when making it.
In addition to being pulled out of scarcity mindset by the support they’re shown, the kids also benefit from the psychological principal of social proof. As Jonah Berger explains in his book Contagious, we’re wired to conform to the behaviors around us. We imitate one another, dressing like our friends and dining in crowded restaurants. We rise to meet the expectations and confidence instilled in us. That’s why bartenders prime their tip jars and book covers boast best-seller status.
The final year that I was on the board, the entire high school girls’ cottage made the honor roll. Then they challenged the boy’s high school cottage to do the same. I hope you’ll be as inspired as I am by that. And that you’ll challenge yourself to consider ways to invest more in your audience. Can your intervention empower beneficiaries by offering greater opportunities? More choice? Ancillary services? Whatever the possibilities, remember that the people you help can't thrive on small bets. And the more they succeed, the better we all do.
With gratitude,
Kevin
