To 10 boys at Mooseheart, she's a teacher, role model and friend
"They're home!" With a smile, Mickey Hogan slid the bowl of strawberries she'd just sliced for their treat across the kitchen counter and turned to greet her boys.
All 10 of them.
"Hi, Mickey," Nathan Hayden said as he led the parade of backpacks and boys into the expansive, airy dining room lined with plants and individually-labeled white plastic bins packed with each boy's supplies.
"Hello, Nathan," she said, smiling as she headed for her spot at one end of the massive table for 10 anchoring the room. "Look!" one young man said, eagerly pushing the papers in front of her as his "brothers" dropped their backpacks, grabbed library books, homework, or those crucial "buck sheets" that would ultimately decide if they could go out and play. Quietly, orderly, some found their spots around the large wooden table. Several gathered around Mickey, eagerly sharing their day.
Soon a steady stream of questions and chatter filled the room.
"Can you get two small spoons?" Hogan asked. "David, can you go get some bowls out, please?"
"What are we having today?" he asked.
"Yogurt and strawberries," she replied, simultaneously looking at two different offerings as the young men scrambled for her attention.
"Sounds good," he said with a grin en route to getting the bowls.
Welcome to life in the Ontario house on the campus of Mooseheart Child City & School, where Michaeleen "Mickey" Hogan is known officially as a Family Teacher. Unofficially, even though no one calls her it and she's certainly not their biological mother, she's the "mom" for 10 young men whose own moms are unable to give them what they need right now.
"She's a mother figure for them," said Scott Hart, Mooseheart's executive director. "When they skin their knee, who do they want a hug from? It's Mickey. When they have a bad day, who do they want? Mickey. To her ... they are her boys ..."
They sure are.
Some, like Zachary Rice-Scotti, have always lived at Mooseheart, which is home to about 230 children living in about 30 homes, each with family teachers like Hogan living on site. They serve as mentors, guides and counselors, helping children whose own guardians are no longer able to care for them.
Zachary, an 11-year-old avid Pokemon fan, had just checked in with Hogan after getting home from school. She, by the way, "is a really good football player," he said.
Yes she is, agreed Tarry Johnson, 10, who said Hogan helps him with his homework. And "she's helped me learn stuff, like staying on task."
He said he couldn't do that when he first arrived a year or so ago. He was mad at first, he acknowledges with a shrug and swift smile. But now it's OK, he says.
That's largely because of Hogan, a single woman who turned her life over to Mooseheart and her boys several years ago. "It's just really rewarding," she said as half of her Mooseheart family tossed a football outside and the other half worked on homework with her fellow family teachers Bridgett Soto and Grace Gregory.
"You have to dedicate yourself to it," she added. "It's not a job. It's a lifestyle."
It's one that wrapped around her heart.
"You can see it when she's interacting with the kids," Soto said of Hogan. "She's very good at seeing what each needs and giving it to them. She's a wonderful, warm role model."
"They know why they're here," Hogan said of the boys. "And every kid is here for a different reason."
Styles Redmond will soon be 9. David Serrano is 12. He just celebrated his birthday. Jacob Stone is 9 and has been there six years. Jon Williams is the oldest at 12. He's been there one year.
Nathan Hayden, Joey Leitner, Skyler Hodges, Tarry Johnson and Zachary Rice-Scotti are Group 1. David Serrano, Jacob Stone, Joe Williams, Jonathan Serrano and Styles Redmond are Group 2. They alternate who studies and who plays after school. Each has chores. Each is learning to become himself in a safe environment where they learn structure, responsibility, and a respect that was not part of their lives before.
Easing their confusion and sense of abandonment is vital, Hogan said. She's glad when they can see their natural-born parents or guardians and she is glad for them when they are able to return home. But if there's any question of safety or security, they've got Hogan for backup. "We're here to protect the child," she said.
Sometimes, that means she can't protect her own heart.
It had been a bad day at school for one young man. As she talked to him about accepting responsibility and changing his behavior, the little boy began to cry. "Deep breaths," she said gently, outwardly calm and soothing. "Just try and do better."
After his timeout and quick regroup, he was back smiling, quietly accepting the loss of a "buck" marking the reward points that would grant him outside play or TV time.
Inside, Hogan was near tears as well. "I was about to cry," she said as she watched him play a bit later with other young boys who have also seen difficult days. "His crying is a pretty big deal. He couldn't do that before. It was either anger or acting out. I was really proud of him."
Just like a mom would be.
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