Home on the Ranch

A faded yellow school bus pulls off the main road and a lively bunch of teenage boys files out the door. Many of them pull off their shirts and turn away from the hot dust clouds kicked up as the bus pulls away.

Clad in jeans and untied high-top court shoes, burdened by backpacks crammed with textbooks, they trudge along a gravel road. They kick stones and bicker about who has the toughest teachers. Huge power lines sizzle above them, and ravens swoop and caw over the vineyards and groves of pistachio trees on either side of the road.

A mile ahead, a large sign reads, “Valley Teen Ranch,” a place these boys have learned—at least for now—to call home. For teenagers whose childhoods are scarred battlefields, this ten-bed group home in Madera, California, is a place of healing.

They pass under the sign and drop down into an 80-acre valley of sloping, rural farmland baked a warm brown under the San Joaquin Valley sun. Cattle and horses graze in large pens, and a sprinkler system waters a few acres of wheat, a project that defrays some of the home’s expenses. The tranquility of the valley contrasts with the tumultuous character of the boys’ lives before moving to the ranch.

Many, in fact, still bear the raw welts of emotional, physical, or sexual abuse. They do not trust their parents; they do not trust their teachers; and they hate authority. They are themselves the brunt of jokes among peers. Their typical responses to tension and conflict are simple: run, hide, escape.

“They’ve had no family structure,” said Connie Clendenan, development director of the home. “We’re trying to build a relationship of trust and show them that we can be counted on. In the past, they’ve only seen adults abuse them and lie to them. We’re trying to get through their hard crusts by giving them a family atmosphere.”

Because the boys, ages 11 to 17, were placed on the ranch by local juvenile halls and social-service or mental-health agencies, they do not always appear enthusiastic about their new home. “None of the kids wants to be here, even though they’ve been abused by their parents. But they learn to adjust to the structure and rules,” said Clendenan, an easygoing woman dressed in loosely fitting slacks and a T-shirt emblazoned with colorful lettering.

The boys are responding. The five who have completed the ranch’s live-in program no longer run away from home, miss school, or have brushes with the law—the three social goals of Valley Teen Ranch. All five are nearing completion of their high school diplomas. A few will even be entering college.

Full-time houseparents Ron and Wisti Rosenthal shoulder the bulk of responsibility for the boys. The Rosenthals, with their two children, live with them around the clock five days a week, creating an atmosphere permeated with family values and belief in a God who answers prayer. They emphasize work and responsibility, but not to the exclusion of good times and fun.

Parents In Every Way

Because it is Friday, the boys reach the group home only to dash to their rooms. They peel off their clothes, don swimming trunks, and rush off to the pool where they yell and splash and try halfgainers off the diving board.

Two privileged boys, however, have paying jobs on the ranch, above and beyond the standard chores. Instead of swimming trunks, they pull on large rubber boots and head out to the fields. They disconnect the sprinkler pipes and haul them a short way up the rows. They sweat under the hot sun and wear gloves so their hands won’t burn on the scalding pipe, which has baked all day in the sun.

In the kitchen, 29-year-old Wisti, eight-and-a-half months pregnant, coordinates dinner duties. Two boys set out dishes on the huge round table. Another boy cuts up cabbage and slices tomatoes.

While they work, the kids tell Wisti about their day at school. They are quick to obey when she asks them to do something. “It’s not always this easy,” she said, plopping into a chair for a moment of rest. Her four-year-old daughter, in a damp bathing suit, reaches out for Mom. Wisti lifts Lindsay onto her lap and the girl lightly pats her mom’s large belly.

“It was an adjustment at first when we moved here two years ago, but it’s been good for us and the kids,” said Wisti, who met her husband at Christ for the Nations Bible College in Dallas, Texas.

Meanwhile, 35-year-old Ron Rosenthal, a former carpenter who helped in the construction of the ranch, does lifeguard duty around the pool. He wears jeans and western boots, and his stern, bearded face supports his strong presence and voice. He smiles at the boys’ splash fights and at his son, Daniel, 7, swimming with a diving mask. When he tells the boys swim time is over, there is no dawdling.

“We do everything here together. We work around the ranch and go places for vacation, take them to church. We treat them pretty much the way we treat our own children.” The Rosenthals try to be parents in every way.

A typical day for houseparents and boys alike includes rising at 5:15 A.M. for before-school chores such as vacuuming the house, cleaning the bathrooms, and washing breakfast dishes. Once home from school, the boys spend an hour studying before dinner. During evenings, they work on personal projects, such as putting together a model, reading for 30 minutes, or fixing a piece of electronic equipment. Watching television is not allowed, but the boys enjoy games like Foosball, or Nintendo played on a large-screen television. By 9 P.M., the kids are in bed.

Family routine also includes church. On Sundays, the Rosenthals give the boys a choice about attending. “We don’t force them, but so far they don’t mind going,” said Ron, who attends Valley Christian Center in Fresno.

The religious flavor is evident in other ways. “The staff meet every morning to talk about how the kids are doing and to pray for them. We also pray for strength and wisdom for each other,” said Clendenan. Affiliated with Youth for Christ/USA, the home is modeled after Michigan Teen Ranch in Marlette, Michigan, started 25 years ago by Clendenan’s father, Ray.

The Fruit Of Hard Labor

The staff face daunting responsibilities; the boys’ problems are many and varied. One 15-year-old boy was raised by a schizophrenic mother who wanted to keep her son a baby. For years he was kept inside and made to wear diapers. Another boy came to the group home weighing 248 pounds. His main diet was Hostess Ding Dongs and soft drinks. In the past six months, he has lost 46 pounds.

“Mr. Rosenthal can be tough,” he says, laughing. “But when I leave, I’m sure I’ll come by a lot.”

“We could fill the house every day with the calls we get from parents and organizations,” said Clendenan. Such success has allowed the ranch to make plans for a second building and a sports field. Materials and labor have already been donated by church and civic organizations.

But despite the home’s intense screening process (where staff evaluate a potential resident by meeting with the boy’s caseworker and family), problems sometimes arise. “We’ve had some run away, and we notify the schools and the police,” says Clendenan. “If they haven’t broken the law, they’re usually allowed back. Most stay.” If all goes as planned, the boys are ready to leave the ranch and return to the mainstream within 12 to 18 months.

Then other boys will take their places, and the work will go on. Like any other ranch, there are always horses to feed, sprinklers to switch, fences to repair, and trees to be planted. But with persistence, the fruit of their labor will come.

The ranch staff and counselors work with that knowledge, convinced that by sowing good seeds in one season, they are preparing for a harvest to come.

By Jeffery Williams, a religion writer for the Merced Sun-Star and free-lance writer living in Fresno, California.

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