Case management sounds like paperwork. Some of it is. Most of it is one person refusing to let another person fall through a crack. Here is a composite of an ordinary Tuesday, with names and details changed.

8:15 a.m. The whiteboard

Carla starts at the whiteboard with coffee. Twenty two names, each with one next step. Not a life plan. One step. Replace an ID. Call a landlord back. Get to an interview by 2.

9:00 a.m. A birth certificate

A man who has been with us nine days needs a state ID to start a warehouse job. The ID needs a birth certificate from another state. Carla has ordered a hundred of these. She knows which office answers the phone and which one still wants a fax.

10:30 a.m. Two landlords

One call is a reference for a resident who is ready to move. The other is a landlord who has never rented to someone leaving a shelter. Carla does not sell. She explains the twelve months of aftercare, gives her direct number, and offers to walk the unit with him.

1:00 p.m. Homework club runs long

A mom's interview runs over. Her kids stay at the homework table an extra forty minutes, and nobody makes it a problem.

3:30 p.m. Keys

A resident who came to us in the fall signs a lease. Carla takes the picture: the keys, held up, in front of a plain door. It goes on the wall by the whiteboard with the others.

5:45 p.m. The whiteboard again

One name comes off. A new one goes on. Twenty two names, each with one next step.

This is what your gift funds. Not a program so much as a person, paying attention, every day. You can fund a case manager's work or come help at the homework table.

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