PSU Magazine Fall 1995

dining expert, market ing specialist, and Los Angeles author. All Enviro orps members get health insurance and a minimum wage. Those complet ing the program also get an add itional perk-money to be app lied toward co ll ege tuition or financial aid loans. During the pa t year, 10 full-time members each logged 1,700 hours earn– ing $7,600 in wages plus an educational award of $4,725. Some of these people were fresh out of high school and others had already gained college degrees. Another 10 members, currently enrolled at colleges and universities in the Portland area, worked part time during the school year. (Five were from PSU.) They each earned $4,023 in wages, plus an additional $2,363 t ward their schooling. The crew went to a full-time schedule over the . ummer. As with any first-year program, not all went moothly for EnviroCorps. Some members, ays Dunas, were fru s– trated that their expertise wasn't used more fully. And, at times, projects unfolded on a piecemea l basis because of bureaucratic nafus, lack of supplie or logist ic problem . But many EnviroCorps members came out with a new appreciation for teamwork, and several emerged with a new under– stand ing of their urban community. "I'd never heard of the olumbia lough and Smith and Bybee lakes before I started this program," says 25-year-old Tamra Cochran, who grew up in northeast Portland and graduated in 1993 with a B.A. degree in psychol– ogy from Lewis & Clark Coll ege. Cochran erved as one of two EnviroCorps team leade rs. She'd already worked several years in socia l work, as a counselor and coach for Self Enhancement Inc., a social service agency. Smith , a graduate of Portland's Jefferson High School and a surv ivor of years of gang life, al o came into the program with limited knowledge about the environment. "When I stepped in, my under– standing of vegetation was trees, flow– ers, grass, and bushes. Now I can walk through the forest and say, That' a cottonwood. That's a dogwood,"' he says. "Knowledge is something that can be used forever. It's all about knowing how things tie in together." But EnviroCorps has meant more to mith than learning about the env ironment or developing a resume. This summer, he and 15 other EnviroCorps member worked one-on– one with high school students hired through the Private Industry Council, a Portland-area organizat ion that helps youths build career opportunitie . The teens worked side by sid e with EnviroCorp · membe rs at the work sires, planting vegetation, removi ng weeds, building trails, and lea rning about the educational options avai l– able to them. Erik Steffens enjoyed the one-on· one work with youth in the EnviroCorps programs. "[ watched some of my friends and peers die in gangs," says Smith. "The gang world is a private world. This was an opportunity to ay to some of them, 'Hey stupid, wake up.' They're going to need to know there's something 1nore." EnviroCorps members toiled on about two dozen long-term environ- ment enhancement projects. Most work invo lved assi ting other agencie in cleaning up the Columbi a lough, a premier wetland habitat that has se rved as an industrial dumping ground in recent decades. Some day , EnviroCorps crews visited north Portland' Whitaker Ponds, planting hrub and removing junk to help prepare an urban natu re preserve that will eventually be open to the public. Another day, they worked along Gresham's Fairview Creek, stabi– lizing the stream bank. In Parkrose, they helped local homeowners make their yards more nature-friendly through a "Naturescape" program. Working in concert with such groups as the Nature onservancy, Friends of Tree , Metro Parks and Greenspaces Program, an I Portland Parks and Recreation Bureau, EnviroCorps crews worked on projects at the Tualatin Hills Nature Park, southeast Portland' Beggar -tick mmsh, and West Linn's Camas ia Natural Area. The physical work was rough. Workers found themselves wading in wetland for hours on damp February days, or struggling through thorn- FALL 1995 rsu MAGAZINE 9