Plant City Observer

A Chance to Change

The phosphate mine glowed ominously when Cindy Churchill and her family drove by it more than three decades ago. But, it was the stench of sulfur Churchill remembers the most.

“I thought they were taking me to hell,” Churchill says.

With the exception of rural farm houses, there was nothing around for miles. Churchill hated instantly the desolate roads that twisted and turned deeper into the sprawling country.

It was 9 p.m., and she would have rather been drinking with her friends. Churchill was from Fort Lauderdale and had grown accustomed to the lifestyle it offered — days at the beach, nights spent partying.

The problem was Churchill was only 14 years old.

Things spiraled out of control quickly. By the sixth grade, Churchill began drinking. Alcohol led to drugs. But she was sneaky, concealing her behavior as much as she could, until her parents finally realized she wasn’t just having a casual drink at a high school party.

When they decided to send her to a voluntary program, she ran. It took a month — and assistance from a private investigator — to find the rebellious teen.

“I really didn’t care about my family at that point,” Churchill says. “It was all about my friends.”

To combat her destructive behavior, Churchill was court-ordered to Steppin’ Stone Farm. The farm, just south of Plant City, is a Christian home for at-risk teenage girls.

When Churchill stepped out of the car, an excited dachshund dashed to her. Louise Keiser wasn’t far behind the loving critter. Louise, along with her husband, Ed, started the farm in 1973. They were known affectionately around the farm as “Grandma” and “Grandpa.”

Churchill was scared and sullen. But, Louise tried to melt Churchill’s icy disposition with kindness.

“I remember Grandma Keiser being real friendly,” Churchill says. “This place isn’t authoritarian.

“The dog settles you down, too,” Churchill says. “He was really friendly, with his wagging tail.”

Churchill successfully completed the program. And not only has her life turned around, but also, she never left the farm. When Louise died in 1991, Churchill assumed the role as executive director.

And the dachshund has a successor, too, a basset hound named Lady who greets the many girls who have come after Churchill.

LAY OF THE LAND

Steppin’ Stone Farm has changed significantly since Churchill’s time as a girl there.

The resident trailers have been replaced with three homes, named Love, Faith and Hope. The homes are nestled among 86.5 acres of lush green landscaping and walking paths. They can accommodate up to 27 girls. The farm usually averages about 24.

There’s a chapel, office and dining hall situated at the entrance. In the back sits a school, guest house, apartment for staff training, duplexes for live-in staff and a modest house for Churchill and her husband.

Six horses trot in an adjacent field. The girls also take care of chickens, four pigs, a donkey and goats. Every year, the girls raise two steers for the Florida Strawberry Festival.

Although the phosphate mine is no longer nearby, many of the girls feel the same sense of isolation Churchill did. Most of the girls are local, but some come from neighboring cities such as Orlando and Tampa.

The scenic drive that dips around freshly planted fields, rustic barns and humble homes is unnerving.

“You’re frightened,” Churchill says. “I wasn’t used to working, to structure. There’s all those same thoughts from them.”

But, it’s not all work. The girls also get a chance to play volleyball, basketball, sing in choir and participate in other extracurricular activities.

EXPECTATIONS

Respect is the most important tenant the 12-member staff teaches.

Respect means no fights. Or else physical restraint will be used. Respect means saying “yes ma’am” and “yes sir.” Respect means helping your peers.

The girls’ level of respect and behavior is acknowledged through merits and demerits. Too many demerits means a girl can’t go to visit her family during one of the four home-stays for the year. Merits allow girls to move up levels, which gives them more responsibilities.

Lauren Schorejs, 16, has been faring well in the program. She has moved up in the levels and is part of leadership where she helps work in the kitchen.

“You’re given more opportunities and responsibilities to prove yourself,” Schorejs says.

Before coming to the farm, many of the girls had issues with running away. If a girl runs away from the farm, she won’t be kicked out of the program. Instead, an additional six months will be tacked onto her yearlong sentence.

As far as schooling is concerned, there is no such thing as a “D” in the grading system. The girls are expected to get a 75% to pass a class, which is taught by on-site teachers.

The girls attend chapel every Sunday, but Christian teachings aren’t forced.

“We give them a choice to decide,” Churchill says. “It takes the fake-ness out of it.”

Since the farm opened 40 years ago, about 800 girls have come through the program.

“We’re talking about girls who have been here in-depth, for an average of 15 months,” Churchill says. “It really gives them a chance to change their lives.”

Contact Amber Jurgensen at ajurgensen@plantcityobserver.com.

MEET SOME OF THE GIRLS AT STEPPIN’ STONE FARM

Lauren Schorejs, 16

Since she was 12, Lauren had been through three different help programs. She had started abusing prescription drugs, had relationships with a chain of bad boyfriends and a negative outlook.

“I just really didn’t care about anything,” Lauren says. “I really didn’t know what to do.”

So at 14, she came to Steppin’ Stone Farm. Her mother had been a girl at the farm, as well.

“I thought it’d be like every other program,” Lauren says. “I would show them what they wanted, and then I’d be out of here.”

But instead, Lauren has excelled. She is part of leadership and finally will be able to go home to Orlando.

“This is the only thing that really worked for me,” Lauren says. “The only one that showed me I could be more.”

Taylor Mallory, 17

Taylor and her sister always had depended on each other. Their mother had been in and out of their life, because of her drug abuse. The duo wasn’t particularly close with their father, either.

So, when Taylor’s mother died when she was only 13, she fell apart. Her sister left the house shortly after. Alone, Taylor rebelled against her father.

“I mainly used my mom’s death to define me,” Taylor says. “I used it against people.”

At the farm, Taylor has become involved with the 4-H. She loves animals and it shows. The Lakeland local also has successfully completed her junior year of school.

“It’s made me a happier person,” Taylor says. “I can just be myself, respect myself more and others.”

Hana Alsamman, 17

Hana was raised in a Christian home and given all the tools to succeed. But, when she grew apart from her mother, she started hanging out with the wrong crowd. She began drinking and sneaking out with boys.

She was told five minutes before the family left to drop her off at the farm where she was going. Hana blasted her music through her headphones.

“I hated it,” Hana says about first coming to the farm. “I thought I didn’t need to change. I thought I was perfect.”

But Hana became successful in the program. Soon, she will return to Winter Park and will be a senior in school.

“I see amazing changes, not only in myself but (also) in relationships with my mom, family and God,” she says.

Emma Strayer-Ellis, 15

Adopted from Nicaragua, Emma had been raised by her single mother for 14 years. As an only child, Emma was shy and was used to her mother doing things for her. When her mother married, Emma’s lack of communication worsened.

She had a boyfriend her parents didn’t like, and her grades slipped.

Emma had no idea she was being sent to the farm until she arrived. Her mother told her she was going on vacation.

“I did not like it here,” Emma says. “I did not talk at all for the first two months, except for saying, ‘yes ma’am’ and ‘no ma’am.’”

But since then, the shy girl has become a friendly young woman.

“My communication with my family is so much better and even with the staff,” the Sarasota local says. “I don’t feel like I have to hide or be judged.”

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