Welfare Rules Pushing Some Right to the Limit

Terell and Teron are sprawled under white sheets, sleeping soundly on the living room floor. It’s 11 a.m., but the sunlight is blocked by yellowing newspapers that cover the windows, and the boys don’t wake up.

Their mother, barely awake herself, explains how she lost her most recent job, how her phone and utilities were cut off, how she drinks too much, how she might not make it to her next birthday and how her children sleep on the floor because they don’t have beds.

In March, Angela Vaugh ran out of time on welfare.

Under time limits, one of the central features of the 1996 welfare overhaul, even the poorest families must leave welfare after a set period of time, whether or not they have a job or a plan to support their families.

Federal law sets the maximum period for receiving benefits at five years, but 21 states including Ohio have shorter time limits that have begun to kick in. As of this spring, about 125,000 families had run out of time and lost their checks, an Associated Press survey found.

That’s a fraction of the total number who have left the rolls. The strong economy has helped many find jobs well before their benefits expired. Others were cut off because they failed to comply with new rules. And with welfare rolls way down, most states are making exceptions to keep benefits flowing to those who have hit time limits.

But beginning this fall, the story line is set to change, as the federal limits hit in the remaining states. Federal law caps the number of people who may be excused from the five-year limit, and most of the upcoming states have much stricter extension policies.

“A lot of states are going to say ‘That’s it,’ and not think about hardship,” said Jack Tweedie, a welfare expert at the National Conference of State Legislators. “A significant number of families are going to be affected.”

Research suggests that the families affected by time limits are some of the most vulnerable.

“Our population is fragile,” says Diane Merriweather, who visits Cleveland families who have been cut off welfare to try to connect them with other services and emergency assistance. “These problems didn’t happen overnight. It’s years and years of problems.”

Vaugh was on welfare for 36 months before being cut off. Slumping on her couch, she answers Merriweather’s questions.

Yes, she drinks too much, a point made by the empty whiskey bottle sitting on the mantle.

No, she doesn’t have any income. She worked as a housekeeper at a nursing home but was fired after an argument with a co-worker. “It’s like I can’t keep no job,” she sighs.

No, she hasn’t paid rent for nine months. The two-bedroom house where she and her four children live was foreclosed upon and sold at sheriff’s sale. Soon, the new owner is likely to evict them if she doesn’t start paying.

It’s a fragile life lived on the edge, the type of family critics of the 1996 welfare bill worried about as they argued against time limits.

Supporters said welfare should be a temporary way station, not a way of life. Opponents said it’s wrong to deny help to someone just because they still need it.

Five years later, time limits have yet to make a massive impact. Specifically, the AP survey found:

* In Oregon and Nebraska, two-year time limits are on the books, but almost no one has been affected. Those who follow rules that require work or job search automatically get extensions.

* Fewer than 10 Delaware families have reached the time limit and been cut off, compared with more than 2,100 families who lost benefits because they didn’t follow the rules.

* Barely half of the families in Indiana are subject to time limits. Among those excused right off: Full-time students, anyone over 60, people who live too far from available jobs, those caring for sick family members, pregnant women and mothers with babies under age 1.

* In Arkansas, Texas, Utah and Tennessee, about half the people who hit the limit each month receive extensions.

* In Massachusetts, a two-year limit applies only to able-bodied adults who don’t have children under 2, meaning just 25% of all families are potentially affected. The state will give an unlimited number of extensions to those who run out of time if they promise to follow the rules. More than 14,000 families have run out of time, but only about 4,500 have been cut off.

“If you haven’t done a thing for 23 months and come to us and say, ‘I’ve seen the light and I’m willing to take part in a structured job program,’ in all likelihood, we will give you a three-month extension,” said Dick Powers, spokesman for the Massachusetts program.

A few states are tougher.

Just 10% of extension requests in Arizona have been granted. Nearly 12,000 families have been cut, although they only lose the adult portion of the welfare check. In Virginia, about 7,100 families have hit a two-year time limit and lost their checks. But recipients can come back after two years.

States where time limits are coming up will be far more unyielding.

The five-year limits that begin expiring in October are for life, and a review of state policies shows that few of the upcoming states plan to exempt large numbers of people or offer many extensions.

These states may wind up looking more like Ohio, where very few extensions are granted. In Cuyahoga County, which includes Cleveland, more than 5,000 families were cut off during the first seven months. By comparison, it’s taken three years to cut off 5,000 families in all of Florida.

Most of these Cleveland families are not as shaky as the Vaughs. Marquita Chisholm, 27, may be more typical. She was working at McDonald’s when she was cut off welfare last fall but left her job when she had her third child. Now she wants to go back to work--and McDonald’s wants her back--but her child care fell through.

“My biggest fear is not being able to make it with my kids,” she says, her voice cracking.

And she’s angry that no one at the county welfare department ever suggested that she voluntarily leave welfare while she was working and bank her time for an emergency.

“Naturally, if I could have saved it, I would have. That’s common sense,” says Chisholm.

Research suggests that families who leave welfare due to time limits are worse off than others who have left the rolls.

A Utah survey found that 77% of families who left welfare due to increased income were working three to six months later, versus just 43% of those who hit time limits. And 73% of time-limited families were living below the poverty line versus 32% of those who left welfare on their own.

In South Carolina, 50% of time-limited families were working a year after being kicked off the rolls, versus 74% of those who left due to increased income.

In Cuyahoga County, home visitors found that 35% of families cut off due to time limits were at “significant risk” of not finding enough money to replace their welfare checks. About 18% were in questionable or unsafe housing. Only half had sufficient clothing.

Vaugh almost didn’t show up in the statistics, which are gathered by home visitors like Diane Merriweather. Merriweather tried three times to talk with Vaugh before finally catching her at home one morning.

On the way out, Merriweather contemplates whether to call in child protective services. Vaugh seems like a caring mother, but with no phone, no income and soon no place to live, her children--one baby, one toddler and two in elementary school--may be at risk of neglect.

She decides to take a stab at helping Vaugh get into public housing and find a new job before sending out county workers.

Merriweather gives long hugs to Vaugh and 3-year-old Siara, and promises to check back in a few days. The boys, Terell and Teron, are still sound asleep on the living room floor.