Treehouse gives foster kids footing to reach for the stars

In a household bustling with kids, mom Sherry Davis' rules are familiar parental fare.

Keep common areas clean. Bedtime is 9:30 p.m. School is your job.

But when the family is an unconventional mix of foster kids and your own child, additional maxims emerge: Your parents are real people; know them and your siblings. This is your home for as long as you need it. You must attend family meetings. Mom will always love you.

Davis' brood — four, including her biological son — has been with her for years and is a loving, rowdy bunch.

But raising teenagers with troubled histories can make for a combustible mix. Davis, a single parent, showers her kids with love while challenging them to aim high and work hard in education and in life.

It's a mix that works on the good days. When it gets bad, Davis is grateful for Treehouse, one of 13 nonprofits aided by The Seattle Times Fund For The Needy. The agency has become a crucial part of her parenting arsenal, providing a support network when she needs to rely on someone other than herself.

More than 15,000 foster kids in King County are eligible for Treehouse services, founded in 1988 by social-service caseworkers who wanted foster kids to have such normal childhood experiences as birthday cakes, new clothes and summer camp. The agency funds extracurricular programs, grants "Little Wishes," such as piano lessons, and sponsors The Wearhouse, where kids shop for free clothes and school supplies.

The agency's biggest investment, however, is tutoring. Statistics show that fewer than 35 percent of 18-year-old foster kids graduate from high school, and fewer than 10 percent go to college. Foster kids are an average two grade levels behind those kids from more stable households.

Davis, a budget analyst for the city of Seattle, wants her kids to be the exception.

A knack for nurturing

Davis, 49, grew up the eldest of five sisters in a household bubbling over with children from her mother's day-care business. Responsibility and nurturing started early, leading her to an adulthood where she looked out for the less fortunate.

She was in her 20s and volunteering as a tutor when she met a child who needed a place to stay. She has been a foster mother ever since.

Davis, who is unmarried, has taken more than a dozen children into her home over two decades, moving from a two-bedroom place to the current five-bedroom house in South Seattle she bought to accommodate her expanding family.

In 1992 she gave birth to Michael, who has grown up with a merry-go-round of siblings.

Melina Bobbitt, 17, was Davis' first foster baby, a cherubic 3-month-old placed when Davis was just 27. Melina left at 11 months to live with her father but returned years later and joined her brother Forrest Britt Jr., 14, who has been with Davis since he was 2.

Davis embraced another family when she took in Roel "R.J." Williams, now 16, and sister Hatai Williams, now 14, who had lost their mother to cancer. R.J. left after a year, but is a household fixture on weekends.

The precarious work of filling in for a missing parent takes on a new layer of complexity during the teenage years.

So Davis talks to their friends on the phone and checks on them through Myspace.com. She writes long e-mails to their teachers and tracks their grades online. She recently went to school with Melina to clear up a misunderstanding about a couple of missed school days for a family vacation.

Davis has made blunders. Family crises can escalate quickly in foster homes where children can call social workers, and parents can threaten to turn children over to the state. In a moment of anger and frustration, Davis has said that to Hatai and Melina.

She regrets it now. Over time, Davis has learned to keep things at a more even keel with regular family meetings, tips on de-escalation and allowing the children to tell her things they want to change at home.

And she has learned to hear their criticism.

Melina told Davis recently to stop blaming them for her problems. Davis ticks them off: no social life, weight gain, rising blood pressure, burnout.

So with her family in mind, Davis has paid more attention to herself.

Great expectations

When it comes to turmoil at school, however, Davis is firm.

A University of Washington alumna and the first person in her family to attend a four-year college, Davis doesn't want her kids to become the worst kind of foster statistic. So she turns to Treehouse to help prevent it.

Melina, Forrest and Hatai have had problems with math, and Forrest also had trouble with testing. Davis has taken advantage of tutoring, mentoring and the Coaching-to-College program at Treehouse.

With tutoring, Forrest earned A's last year in math. Melina is considering Running Start, a program that would let her earn early credits for college. Hatai still gets help from Treehouse.

"In some ways, they do it for her as opposed to really understanding why [school is] important for them," said Laurie Bohm, the Coaching-To-College middle-school coordinator who has worked with the three. "Over the years, the kids have come to understand why it's important."

Treehouse also helps them explore their non-academic side, funding rock-climbing summer camp for Melina, a national track meet for Hatai and photography classes for Forrest.

"I don't know how I managed years prior to Treehouse," Davis said. "The support, education, resources. It's just amazing what they can provide."

Home sweet home

On a recent Friday afternoon, R.J. shows up for a weekend, fresh off a bus from his group home in Auburn.

"Where's my brother?" he asks as he wanders down the hall looking for Forrest.

In the kitchen, Hatai tilts her head, flashes a sassy smile and snaps a couple pictures of herself with a borrowed cellphone.

Melina appears when her mother arrives home from work. The 17-year-old texts furiously on her new Sidekick and groans when Davis pulls out baby pictures.

After years of not trusting people, Melina has started to let her mom in. Her New Year's resolution this year was to stop lying. She hasn't lied to her mom once, she said.

"She was always there for me," Melina said. "It took me a long time to realize that. I know that now. Better late than never."

Nicole Tsong: 206-464-2150 or ntsong@seattletimes.com