Day of the Dad

The non-profit program is tailored to the particular needs of fathers who are not only confronting the challenges of parenthood, but are still passing through puberty, attending school and sorting out their own identities. And so it mixes life skills, job preparation and decision-making instruction with lessons in basic parenting. The young men, many of them Latino or African-American and almost all poor, learn how to write cover letters, bathe newborns, balance checkbooks, communicate with women, channel aggressive impulses and navigate family court. And if they need it, the center helps them find affordable housing and jobs.

"A lot of these guys are going from boyhood to manhood to fatherhood all in a short period of time," says Matthew Sena, a school-based coordinator. "So we help them to conceptualize what that means. We help empower them financially and emotionally. We help them with whatever challenges they're trying to overcome in being good, responsible, nurturing fathers."

On this morning, Sanchez hopes to offer them something more: a window into their soul. "You've all got fathers inside you," he says. "Tell me what that is."

One young man places a pacifier in the mouth of his four-month-old daughter. Another folds his hands behind his head. A third drains a cup of warm lemonade. Martín shields his paper and begins to write. He's seventeen, the second oldest of four children. He's living in Denver with his older sister while the rest of his family is back in El Paso. He's bright, determined and confident, sporting a buzz cut, two silver earrings and a boxing-gym swagger. Some of the young men were referred to Florence Crittenton by teachers, others by social workers, and a few by their own parents. A couple, Martín included, heard about the program after getting into trouble with the law. But he had no problem with coming to a program for fathers, he says: When his daughter was born four months ago, he was so moved that he "just started crying."

Parenthood is definitely an adjustment, but Martín shrugs off any questions about the pressures of being a young dad. All fathers face challenges. He and his girlfriend are doing fine. He's graduated from high school and has enrolled at the Community College of Denver. He's even thinking about starting his own landscaping business. "When I turn 25," he says, "who knows where I might be?"

He's here for one reason: He doesn't want his daughter to grow up "with issues." He wants her to have the financial stability, emotional support and guidance often missing from his own childhood. The fatherhood program keeps him focused, helps him weigh decisions. "It's getting better every day," he says.

Sanchez, wearing a black beret and suspenders, paces the room. While the young men work, he offers encouragement, personal anecdotes and nuggets of wisdom: "Love is more than passion, more than sex..." He reads from a list of characteristics they've used to describe a man, including "strong," "takes care of business" and "does what he has to do." Then he contrasts that with the list they've used to define fathers: "responsible," "available," "be a role model." He asks them to examine where the words came from, and why.

"Sometimes we become fathers before we become men," Sanchez says. "When we do this, we learn about each other and ourselves."

One young man stares out the window. Another scans the posters hanging in the room: "Six ways to soothe a crying baby," "Recognize red flag warnings," "Pride makes us do things well. Love makes us do things to perfection."

"How do you spell sober?" someone asks.

"Can we grab some pizza?"

Seventeen-year-old Charles Little John composes his rhyme out loud: "Love is a gamble, love is a game. Three hours of pleasure, nine months of pain. When you came to me and said, 'Why have I been born?' I said, 'You wouldn't have been, if the rubber had not torn....'"

Everyone laughs except Martín. He furiously erases a phrase, then continues writing.

Sanchez asks if anyone would like to share his work. After more groans, Little John volunteers to read his completed "Love Is a Gamble." It ends with this: "You think it's fun, like that's what it's all about, but if you don't be there, your kids will hate you without a doubt."

Finally, Martín speaks up. "My poem is called 'Drunk Dad,'" he says. "That's what my dad is, an alcoholic. I never want to be like that." Then he reads:

Inside what I feel is foul.

Feelings I have for you are down.

Determined to be better for my girls and myself.

How I wish you could have been a better man of the house.

Drinkin' your life away, slowly killin' yourself.

Seeing us with pain

Takin' it day by day.

Pray that today is not the day. That god takes you away

In my heart, there are silent cries

That want to be loved and tended to instead of a brew and bitches

Con mucho cariño

My dad knows I love him

He needs to stop and think