When Breaking Chains Academy executive director Luis Granados was 19, he was staring down a 15-year prison sentence. A high school dropout, Granados said that he “had one foot in and one foot out” of the gangs he’d been trying to separate himself from for most of his youth.
In court, the judge looked at Granados’s education, work experience, and strong support system and determined that he could become a productive member of his community—she gave him a second chance. “It was surprising,” he said. “Often, when we think about the criminal justice system, when we think about law enforcement agencies—a narrative of us versus them. It can feel like we fall victim to this system, but going through that experience and being in that courtroom and having a judge that showed me compassion showed me that that wasn’t always that way. I did a year and got out on ten years of supervision, and the first place I came back to was this program.”
Granados is himself a graduate of Breaking Chains, which he joined at age 14 for work skills training, and later, to complete his GED. Eventually, when he was 24, Granados was invited to work as a tutor and mentor, and though he doubted himself, executive director Steve Toronto knew he was the right person for the job. Just five years later, Granados became the executive director.
Breaking Chains Academy provides at-risk youth with the tools and resources to successfully transition into adulthood through education, mentorship, and job skills training, at least on paper. In practice, it is so much more. “We also provide daily breakfast and lunch, and meals to take home if they need it. We have a hygiene closet, diapers, connections to mental health and victim services as well. Sometimes it’s the things not in our job description that really get the job done,” said Granados, who also helps provide rides, letters of support, and whatever else their students might need.
The demand for services is at an all time high, and Granados said that it continues to increase. Presently, there are 34 students sharing 690 square feet of classroom space meant for 26 students at one time. Education services typically run Monday through Friday from 9:30 a.m. until 12:30 p.m., but they’ve extended hours for students into the afternoon. “We’re adapting,” he explained.
Every kid in the Education Services program has been expelled or dropped out of high school—many of them have been through a number of alternative schools. The demand for services is so high that Breaking Chains no longer actively recruits in the community, instead focusing on providing more services to more students—there is no cost to them for meals, hygiene items, tutoring, testing, and even commencement costs.
“It’s not only what we do here, it’s who we do it with,” he explained. “We’re helping the highest-risk youth, those with a higher risk of relapsing, offending, or completely dropping out. When you start from there, everything after is easy, right?” he said, describing the atmosphere as a kind of family with shared community and culture.
Named to honor the act of ending the cycles of poverty, trauma, bad habits, and destructive behaviors, Breaking Chains seeks to eliminate obstacles for students in a nontraditional school setting. The people who work and volunteer are professionals, but they’ve also got lived experience, which Granados said builds trust.
The impacts of the program are exponential, but Granados pointed to Jose Hernandez as an example of success. “He was 14, and in a fist fight in the park behind our building when I introduced myself and told him to come see us if he needed anything,” said Granados. A year or so later, Hernandez started education services, though he still struggled with gang affiliations. Eventually, he was shot three times and nearly died. “But 11 days later, he came back to the classroom,” said Granados. “He wanted to get his GED and go to barber school.” Granados worked with Boise Barber College, who offered a full scholarship. At only 19, Hernandez became the owner of his own barbershop in Nampa.
Granados said that his goal is to show the community that these kids are not lost. “I want to break down the harmful narratives. “This isn’t about us versus them or them versus us. This is about us as a community and as a community, it is our obligation to take care of ourselves and to take care of each other,” he said.
He explained that a lot of the kids he works with are paying the price for something that isn’t their fault. There are hard days—kids who relapse or offend, mugshots in the newspaper that garner all means of commentary. “But for me, it’s somebody’s life. These are kids I’ve shared space with, time, hugs and laughter, and tears. I’ve had 13 kids pass away that were graduates or current students. And we have to remind ourselves that there is still a classroom full of kids that need us to show up,” Granados said.
Some days are harder than others—Granados recalls a recently circulating mugshot of a student that stopped coming in, which generated a lot of cruel commentary on social media. “What those people don’t know is that when he was eight years old, his mom chose drugs over him and his dad went to prison. He would stand by the door and wait for them to come pick him up, and nobody ever came. You can’t hate a kid like that, all that adversity—you want to hug him. 99% of us wouldn’t even survive that. There’s hurt and trauma he never got to heal,” he said.
Granados is himself a father, and said that he had to deal with the difficult reality that his job sometimes requires more time than he has to give. Now, his daughter is supportive, but it wasn’t always easy for her. “That was hard to hear, but I have embraced the sacrifice because I know there’s something bigger than me that needs attention,” said Granados, who never dreamed his life would be what it is today, which he attributes to meaningful support.
“Someone once told me that ‘you can’t save them all.’ But we’re going to try, and we’re going to love them all in the process. It’s an honor, honestly, to be able to share our life with them.” Granados said. “This is not only a safety net, it is a springboard to what’s next.”
