By Marium Zahra for Yes! Media.
Broadcast version by Freda Ross for Texas News Service reporting for the Yes! Media-Public News Service Collaboration

If [students] are being told not only by teachers but by the system and everyone around them that they're 'bad kids,' you're sort of putting them on a path where they have no other choice but [to go] from school to prison," says Judge Michelle Morales, founder of the Teen Court in El Paso, Texas.

A court of teenagers, by teenagers, and for teenagers, Teen Court is exactly what it sounds like: a program giving a new name to justice and serving young people across Texas. The court offers a voluntary alternative from the traditional court system for teens under 17 who commit Class C misdemeanors. Students can avoid a fine and instead receive their penalty in constructive ways such as community service and jury terms in the Teen Court. Once completed, the charge is completely removed from their record.

The program allows young people to plead guilty in front of a student jury that empathizes with their situation and asks them questions about circumstances-their background, home situation, economic status, and what led them to commit the offense. Rather than face a punitive system, teens can avoid unpleasant experiences with law enforcement and move through an alternative criminal justice system that values them.

Student attorney Alex Gonzalez, who is from El Paso, says the program is a way to avoid pigeonholing teens. "The program shifts the focus from labeling students as 'offenders' or 'juveniles' in a negative light to seeing them as people who made a mistake and are now learning from it," she says.

The goal of the court and the student jury is to set teens up for success by making sure the penalty is feasible for each person. In Teen Court, what counts as community service isn't strictly limited to volunteering; it's any self-improvement action, such as going to counseling, achieving a higher grade in a class, or joining an extracurricular class.

Sophia Garza, the juvenile case manager and director of El Paso's Teen Court program explains how community service is defined broadly to accommodate all students. "I have kids that live on the other side, in Mexico, but they attend school in El Paso. ... But as long as they're doing anything that betters themselves or betters their community, I will take it as community service," she says.

Sherry Maximoff, Williamson County attorney and Teen Court supervisor, says the volunteer hours also work as constructive punishment for teens because it encourages them to take care of a community they have served. "If you are taught to give back to your community and to volunteer, it gives you a sense of ownership and responsibility over your community. This is my community, and I'm going to clean up those streets, then why would I commit criminal mischief or litter?" she says.

In recent years, Texas has increased criminalization and policing of teens, especially those of color. The state has intensified the number of law enforcement officers on K-12 campuses with larger populations of Latinx and Black students. This has resulted in Black students in particular being overrepresented in arrests, court referrals, and use-of-force incidents. With students of color across the state saying they fear the increasing number of officers on campuses, Teen Court allows them to avoid traumatizing experiences with law enforcement and have their stories heard without judgment from people within the system.

"[Students are] not dealing with anyone who they identify as law enforcement. That's the whole point of positive peer pressure, that it is their peers who stand in judgment of them, not law enforcement, not the system," explains Morales about how the program is a part of the justice system that veers heavily away from criminalizing students of color.

Garza also says that she notices teens feeling more comfortable once they see other teens on the jury. "When I sit with the youth I can see some are being very cautious. I do see the youth open up more, share a little bit more with their peers, maybe because they feel like if they're going to be judged, their peers are going to understand their situation a little bit better," she explains.

As a state that eschews gun regulation, Texas has also used the overpolicing of schools as a temporary "solution" for gun violence. At a time when students are being criminalized at such a high rate, Teen Court programs allow students from marginalized communities to have their stories heard. This is especially important because students going through the system are often dealing with issues far too serious for their age bracket and sometimes beyond their control.

Williamson County Teen Court volunteer Audrey Seigman talks about a case in which a teen was involved in an accident while driving their siblings to school. "This person was put in a very difficult position. Their parents made them drive their siblings because they were busy with jobs. The accident wasn't their fault, but the police found out they weren't qualified to be driving and cited them," she says.

Other student attorneys say that they've seen similar cases with teens who struggle with issues beyond their control because they come from first-generation families. "[There was] a case involving a student who didn't speak English. He was charged with theft, but it became clear that he didn't fully understand what was happening or how the legal system worked. His family had recently immigrated and there was a huge language barrier," says Gargi Singh, a student attorney with the Williamson Teen Court program.

Gonzalez says that declining mental health is common among teens who enter the program. "Cases involve students dealing with emotional or psychological issues such as depression, anxiety, or trauma. A student might engage in risky behavior as a coping mechanism for their mental health struggles."

In recent years, there has been a resurgence in "tough on crime" approaches to the justice system, including proposed legislation and harsh political commentary from the right. The conservative federal policy agenda Project 2025 seeks to increase criminalization and policing by eliminating training for federal law enforcement. Former President Donald Trump has promised he would increase the militarization of police and expand incarceration and the death penalty if elected. In such a context, Teen Court programs are more important than ever, offering a crucial opportunity for teens to bypass the school-to-prison pipeline. Students are more likely to avoid entering the system later in their lives because Teen Court embodies a form of restorative justice that doesn't use law enforcement or incarceration for discipline.

"At the very lowest level, where the consequences are least impactful, we give them a positive experience with the criminal justice system. You interrupt that pipeline there, both with the way the child begins to define themselves and by actually physically dismissing the ticket," says Morales about how Teen Court directly curbs the school-to-prison pipeline. "We have defendants who have gone through the program and have had such a positive experience at the end that they have chosen to become volunteers," she adds.

Judge Elaine Marshall from Houston, Texas, talks about her Teen Court program and how it has discouraged recidivism among teens in her community. "I started my Teen Court in 2000. From those years I have had no repeat offenders. It says a lot that we've had students who come through as offenders wanting to join the program."

For student volunteers, the program is also a unique way to learn about the legal system and restorative justice. Especially in a state like Texas, which censors students from learning about historical injustices, Teen Court gives students a hands-on opportunity to learn about nuances within the criminal justice system.

"[The program] is not about branding students as 'criminals' but about showing them that they're capable of growth. It has shown me how crucial empathy and understanding are in fostering real change," says Singh.

Teen Court is creating a generation of students who know that reform in the criminal justice system is both necessary and possible. The program bridges gaps between teens and builds community and empathy, giving students the confidence to fight for change.


Marium Zahra wrote this article for Yes! Media.

Two youth-focused nonprofits in Pennsylvania are expanding enrichment and mentoring programs, thanks to $500,000 in grants benefiting hundreds of kids in Chester City and Philadelphia.

The funding comes from Power Home Remodeling's employee-led Circle for Good initiative, part of an over $3 million national effort with partner organization Philanthropy Together.

Jim Myers - director of community impact with Power Home Remodeling - said his company aims to unlock untapped potential by improving schools, and is choosing to support Big Brothers Big Sisters Independence Region to meet their goal.

"The $200,000 grant went towards their Power UP program," said Myers, "and this whole effort is centered around school-based mentorship, and so we're helping engage educators and students and families, and creating environments where all youth can feel valued and connected."

Myers pointed out that around 98% of youth served by Big Brothers Big Sisters Independence Region graduate at higher rates, avoid substance use, and build strong social skills.

He added that their mission aligns perfectly with the company's values, making this partnership a natural fit.

Tyeshia Wilson, senior director of community with Philanthropy Together, said 21 giving circles consisting of over 500 people helped select the 21 grassroots nonprofits that received grant funding.

Wilson explained why the Boys and Girls Club in Chester City was chosen.

"They wanted an organization that was in alignment with their values, and that also was within their particular focus area of like youth mentorship, empowerment," said Wilson. "The end result was them choosing the Boys and Girls Club - because that organization, to them, was in alignment with the values that they chose as a group."

Wilson said the Boys and Girls Club of Chester got $300,000 through the grant program.

She noted that there are over 4,000 giving circles nationwide that support nonprofits in Chicago, Austin, Houston, Tampa Bay, Denver, and San Antonio.



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A new public service announcement spotlights a Michigan teen, in and out of foster homes, who was adopted after a holiday visit turned into a permanent stay.

The PSA is part of a national campaign by the Dave Thomas Foundation, focusing on what it is like to bounce between foster homes, to finally finding a place to belong.

Almost three years ago, Bridgett, 15, faced losing her foster home at Christmas until her high school principal, Jeremy Wright and his wife Jenny, who already had a son, offered her a temporary stay. The visit ultimately became a permanent, loving home. Together, Jeremy, Jenny and Bridgett shared highlights of their adoption journey.

"There's a bunch of kids out there that need structure and need a family, and it's kind of sad but it's also rewarding and challenging," Jeremy said.

"When I look back now on the journey that we've had the past two and a half years, I'm so much better for it," Jenny recounted.

"It feels good to be adopted," Bridgett added.

About 3,000 children in Michigan are in foster care and legally available for adoption. Nearly 300 do not have an identified adoptive family and are actively waiting for a permanent home.

Wendy's founder Dave Thomas, who was adopted himself, became a vocal adoption advocate, testifying before Congress, expanding efforts to Canada, helping launch the U.S. adoption stamp in 2000 and appearing in PSAs.

Rita Soronen, president and CEO of the foundation, emphasized how their PSAs continue to play a vital role in raising awareness.

"It just opens people's eyes, I think, to the fact that it's an absolute human right to have a family, and to have a safe and loving family," Soronen explained.

The foundation focuses on helping children who are, on average, around 14 years old, and about 87% of them have a diagnosed special need, such as ADHD or the effects of trauma.

By Enrique Saenz for Mirror Indy.
Broadcast version by Terri Dee for Indiana News Service reporting for the Mirror Indy-Free Press Indiana-Public News Service Collaboration.

For more than seven decades, the Wilbur Shaw Memorial Soap Box Derby Hill has served as a place for Indianapolis families with the need for speed to get their thrills.

The 1,000-foot hill on West 20th Street near Marian University is the country’s longest track. At the city park, drivers climb into aerodynamic fiberglass cars on top of the hill and harness the power of gravity to get to the bottom as fast as possible.

Indianapolis Soap Box Derby racers go downhill at speeds of more than 30 miles per hour — fast enough to get a speeding ticket in some parts of the city.

Racers meet at the hill several times a year for races. They accrue points at the events that allow some to compete at the national level — the Soap Box Derby World Championships in Akron, Ohio.

For 13-year old Shelton Taylor, soap box racing is in his blood. His great uncle was a soap box racer, but Taylor didn’t become involved in the sport until a fateful drive past the Wilbur Shaw Hill.

“Me and my mom were driving past the track, and we saw a whole bunch of people just coming down the track. She asked me if I wanted to do it. I said, ‘Yeah,’ so she did a U-turn to the top of the gate,” Taylor said.

Taylor signed up, learned how to race and a few years later became the Indianapolis 2024 All American Super Stock Challenge champion, the first African American to do so.

His father, Marvin Taylor, sees soap box derby racing as a family sport.

“It’s a good sport for young kids to get involved in,” Marvin Taylor said. “It’s something different than basketball or soccer. It’s just like the Indy 500 without an engine.”

It’s not just Indianapolis families that come to the hill. Families from around the Midwest and the South make the trip to Indianapolis’ west side to compete.

The Weaver family makes the trek from Owensboro, Kentucky several times a year.

The kids, 12-year-old Melanie and 13-year-old Brandon, drive the cars — and parents Eddie and Effie act as the pit crew.

“We quickly realized it’s a family sport. It’s one of the only sports where parent involvement is critical. It’s like you’re a team with your child,” said Effie Weaver.

For the driver, racing is a thrill. They go down the hill with their heads tucked in to increase speed. They control the car through a pulley system found inside the frame. Drivers only expose a small bit of their face to reduce drag. As a result, they can only see a small portion of track ahead of them and must plan their moves ahead of time.

“At first, I was like, ‘So you’re telling me I’m going down a hill in a plastic car with a wood bottom, and you’re expecting me to trust that,’” said Melanie Weaver. “It’s fun, but at the same time it’s a little stressful.”

More experienced racers drive sleek cars, called Masters Cars, where they essentially drive lying on their back. They wear a helmet that reduces wind resistance but leaves only a small crack between the bottom of the helmet and the top of the car frame through which the driver can see.

Haughville resident William Pickens, 16, drives a Masters Car, but his 6-foot, 2-inch tall frame has to slowly squeeze into a car designed for, at most, a 6-foot-tall child.

“My feet do hit the end of the car, but it’s not that bad,” Pickens said.

The sport is open to children and young adults ages 7 to 20. Indianapolis Soap Box Derby director Bob Getts said the association helps families get into the sport by having cars that families can use to start racing.

“We have more cars than kids right now, and we try to make it easy for families to try and see if it’s something for them,” he said. “We get them in one of our cars, let them get the thrill of the hill and see where it goes from there.”

Car prices range from $700 to $1,500, but the association helps racers find sponsors to defray the cost.

The International Soap Box Derby, the Indianapolis association’s parent organization, also has a program for children with disabilities called the Super Kids League. The league uses two-seat, dual-control derby cars that pairs kids with an experienced co-pilot to compete.

To learn more about the Indianapolis Soap Box Derby, head to the association’s website or call 317-446-5462.


Enrique Saenz wrote this article for Mirror Indy.


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