Astor Home: A Childhood for Every Child
by Frances Sandiford

For almost 100 years the Astor Home for Children has coexisted with the village of Rhinebeck. Located right in the heart of the community, it has maintained all the necessary components of a good working relationship with local residents, many of whom are listed as "donors" in its annual report. Others attend its St. Nicholas Craft Fair, which features handmade articles by the children and staff. But despite this connection, few people who don't work at Astor know very much about its programs and services. On a recent morning, I drove south through the village to the Home's red brick buildings, where I met Executive Vice-President Sonia Barnes-Moorehead for a behind-the-scenes tour.

The Home was first opened in 1914 as Holiday Farm, a convalescent rest home for New York City's "waifs" by 23-year-old Vincent Astor — businessman, philanthropist, and heir to the Astor family fortune. After World War II Mr. Astor entrusted the operation to the Archdiocese of New York and in 1953 it changed its focus from being a refuge for sick children to a mental health center for the emotionally-disturbed, and received its current name (although still connected with Catholic charities, the Home is now largely financed by government grants and private donations). Captain Astor's widow, the charismatic Brooke Astor, who died only this past August, continued to donate to the Home through the Astor Foundation and to serve as one of its trustees for much of her long life.

Many conceptual changes in how to care for the needy have taken place over the past century, making the Home very different now than at its founding. One reminder of the Home's history, however, is the delightful little pony cart in the lounge of the main building, exquisitely designed and colorfully painted (I like to think it once belonged to the Astor family.)

Ms. Morehead explained that Astor serves 6,000 children in 25 sites in Dutchess County and the Bronx. The Astor Home in Rhinebeck, however, is the only residential treatment program. It handles emotionally disturbed, abused, and behavior-disordered boys and girls, ages five to twelve. These children have had such disastrous early lives that they are unable to cope with a regular school atmosphere, or even their own homes. They are referred to Astor by their schools, or local offices of mental health.

Once at Astor, the children start a two-pronged program: an intensive support and supervision routine, and an individualized academic course of study. It is not a quick fix. Children remain at Astor for several years before they can adapt to the world outside. The process is similar to nourishing a garden, Ms. Morehead stressed. Progress takes time and a gradual awakening of the child's own inner strength. To illustrate her point, Ms. Morehead told me about two alumnae, Susan and June.

Susan came to the residential program at Astor when she was 11 years old and in great emotional pain. The abuse she had undergone had been so pervasive that, although she had been temporarily adopted by the grandmother of one of her half siblings, she still could not manage her own behavior. The staff at Astor worked with Susan using counseling, academics and a generous dollop of tender loving care. At first, she resisted help, but gradually turned around. After two years of intensive intervention Susan was able to leave the residential program, and is now living with a foster family who plan to adopt her.

Seven-year-old June arrived for Astor's residential program with severe problems, like Susan's the result of abuse sustained at the hands of her own family. June appeared to be mentally retarded. She was also aggressive and unable to communicate with other children, teachers or staff. Normally Astor would not have accepted into its program a child with such severe mental illness as June; however, June and her brother were already in one of Astor's Foster Care Homes, and Astor's staff felt they should try to do whatever they could to keep the two children connected. June's rehabilitation took much longer than Susan's, but like Susan, she is now with a foster family who will likely adopt both her and her brother.

Besides the psychological counseling, Astor offers an academic program that would be the envy of most public schools. Classes are small, geared to children with disabilities. Expectations are modified, and teachers use hugs as well as verbal instruction. I was particularly impressed with the art classes. The walls of the building where the classes are held are covered with murals made by the students: freewheeling, colorful renditions of children, animals and buildings. On the day that I visited, the children were making pueblo huts of clay and learning about the people who lived in them. From time to time, a student would approach a teacher or aide for a reassuring hug, then go back to the work he or she had left.

Astor is recognized as a National School of Excellence by the U.S. Department of Education. Its program is forever expanding. This past May, the Dyson Foundation gave a grant of $120,000 to the Home's Early Childhood Coordinated Services Initiative program to hire a bilingual parent infant educator. The new educator, however, will not work as part of the residential program, but will be at other Dutchess Country locations.

Ms. Morehead, however much an enthusiastic promoter of Astor's services, would not let me go without saying that, as good as the program may look today, there are always glitches. The children are often hard to handle, progress is often accompanied by setbacks. How does a staff member keep working with a student like Susan or June who constantly resists the interaction? Astor's solution is "Sanctuary," a program intended to protect staff from burnout over the obstacles they face on a day-to-day basis. meets on a regular basis with staff to deal with problem issues. "Did I do the wrong thing? Why can't I get close to this child?" a counselor may ask. Discussions follow, suggestions are made, and most important, support is offered.

Overcoming horrific family histories and difficult obstacles is part and parcel of Astor's mission. Ms Morehead quoted to me her Executive Director James McGuirk, who wrote in a recent Astor newsletter, "What is important isn't their [the children's] stories, but their resiliency and the fact that they can grow and be kids." From everything I had seen, I could see that the Home deserves its motto: "Astor Home for Children…Because Every Child Deserves a Childhood." Leaving Astor by the lounge where I had come in, I saw the pony cart still holding its cheerful pride of place.